Storm of 1913

breakwall

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I was looking over my Grandfather's journals recently. He was born in the late 1890s and fought in the first World War. From the time he was about 12 he kept a journal. He collected them all and kept a faithful correspondance to them until he met my grandmother, wherupon he began writing his thoughts to her in letters and less to the journal.

My family has always concentrated on the slim beige-coloured, much abused and marked volume of his journal that details his tour in WWI. It has been the one most copied and preserved, while the others have been perused but only at leisure.

Today I read over my Grandfather's accounts of the Storm of 1913. He worked part time at the harbour in his Lake Huron hometown and was very affected by what happened over the three days that the Big Blow ravaged the Great Lakes.

Just an excerpt.

"Reports flying in from all over. As boats moor, crew jumps off to tell us the terror on the lake. One man from the "Stoddard" tells of waves so high they shatter the glass in the pilothouse.

"The waves have swamped the pier. The wall of rocks now barely pokes above the water. The wind has whipped the water and snow into a biting mist and flung it straight at us. (Harbourmaster)Capt. Stevens has taken all his papers off the desk in the office because the windows are leaking.

"We've heard reports that distress signals are coming in all up and down the lakes. I've heard three familiar ships named who have crew aboard from the town. I pray for them and their families."


November 7th, 1913, two converging storm cells met over the Great Lakes creating one of the worst storm events in shipping history. Over the course of three days, the storm pounded the lakes with winds over 60 mph, and gusts up to 90 mph, that shifted constantly as it spun across the region. Waves were recorded at 35 feet high and blinding snow dropped visibility to zero.

When the skies cleared on the 11th, 19 ships were sunk, 19 or more damaged or stranded and a total of over 250 sailors lost. In the weeks and months to follow, bodies and debris would wash up on shores.

It took years for the Great Lakes shipping business to recover it's losses. The personal toll was one that many would never recover from. One particular family in Owen Sound, Ontario lost 6 members. Two brothers and their sons all were lost.


A few sidenotes:

Historically, storms of such magnitude and with such high velocities haven't lasted more than four or five hours. This storm, however, raged at an average speed of 60 mph (100 km/h) for over sixteen hours, with frequent bursts of over 70 mph (110 km/h). It crippled traffic on the lakes and throughout the Great Lakes basin region.

In the late afternoon of November 10, an unknown vessel was spotted floating upside-down in about sixty feet of water on the eastern coast of Michigan, within sight of Huronia Beach and the mouth of the St. Clair River. Determining the identity of this "mystery ship" became of regional interest, resulting in daily front page newspaper articles. The ship eventually sank to the bottom, and it was not until early Saturday morning, November 15, that it was finally identified as Charles S. Price.


It's interesting to me, anyway.
 
That is interesting. You're fortunate to have that kind of record in the family.
 
I love finding stuff like that, you're extremely lucky to have a family that has kept track of that stuff. It's fascinating.
 
Lavared said:
That is interesting. You're fortunate to have that kind of record in the family.

We are. The journals are a real glimpse into turn of the century living in what was still considered a 'frontier' area somewhat. Where he lived, the area had only recently been opened by road and rail.

But the storm fascinates me. So much power and fury. My father was a sailor on Lake Erie during Hurricane Hazel and even though I've heard him tell of it of a hundred times, I never get tired of it.
 
I was recently looking over my uncles daily journal from his last stint in rehab.

Here's an excerpt.

"I go to all the trouble of smuggling in a bottle of vicodin and wouldn't you know they go and change policy from the last time I was here. Fucking randoms!"
 
An account from Capt. Lyons of the JH Sheadle.

The bell rang for supper at 5:45 p.m., which was prepared and the tables set, when a gigantic sea mounted our stern, flooding the fantail, sending torrents of water through the passageways on each side of the cabin, concaving the cabin, breaking the windows in the after cabin, washing our provisions out of the refrigerator and practically destroying them all, leaving us with one ham and a few potatoes. We had no tea or coffee. Our flour was turned into dough. The supper was swept off the tables and all the dishes smashed.

Volumes of water came down on the engine through the upper skylights, and at all times there were from 4 to 6 feet of water in the cabin. Considerable damage was done to the interior of the cabin and fixtures. The after steel bulkhead of the cabin was buckled. All the skylights and windows were broken in. A small working boat on the top of the after cabin and mate's chadburn were washed away.

Immediately after the first sea swept over our stern, I ordered the boatswain to take sufficient men and shutters to close all windows in the after cabin. The forced their way aft, braving the wind, sleet and seas, one hand grasping the life rail and the other the shutters. Reaching the after cabin in safety, they began securing the shutters, when another tremendous sea swept over the vessel, carrying away the shutters. The men were forced to cling to whatever was nearest them to keep from being washed overboard; immediately a third sea, equally as severe, boarded the vessel, flooding the fantail and hurricane deck.

The men attempted to reach the crews dining room, but could not make it, and only saved themselves by gripping the nearest object they could reach, indeed one of the wheelsmen was only saved from going over by accidentally falling as he endeavored to grope his way to the rail, his foot catching in one of the bulkwark braces, preventing him from being swept off. Another monster sea boarded the boat, tearing the man loose from the brace and landing him in the tow line, which had been washed from its after rack and was fouled on the deck.


When you consider that the water was ice-cold and that with every wave you would be plunged deeper into hypothermia, what these men went through was excrutiating.

I worked for a time aboard a charter boat in Lake Huron and I got caught in a few severe summer storms. It's a constant fight against panic as you watch these house-sized swells pick you up and toss you around. But it's summer, I can swim, and my lifejacket is on tight. Most sailors were farm-boys who couldn't swim a stroke and if they wore lifevests at all, they were not very effective, and wouldn't do much to save a life in frigid November water.
 
kobalt.9 said:
I was recently looking over my uncles daily journal from his last stint in rehab.

Here's an excerpt.

"I go to all the trouble of smuggling in a bottle of vicodin and wouldn't you know they go and change policy from the last time I was here. Fucking randoms!"

We all have uncles like that. I have an uncle who thinks he's a meerkat.
 
I love family treasures like that one. Thanks for sharing it.

It's very nice and comforting, I think, to have a sense of continuity with those who came before us (and to think about the ones that will come after us). Gives your life a sense of perspective.

In other words, we're just links in a long chain of biological bratwurst.
 
Oliver Clozoff said:
I love family treasures like that one. Thanks for sharing it.

It's very nice and comforting, I think, to have a sense of continuity with those who came before us (and to think about the ones that will come after us). Gives your life a sense of perspective.

In other words, we're just links in a long chain of biological bratwurst.

I'd like to thank my forefathers and their DNA for providing me with a biologically impressive bratwurst.
 
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