Most of you have heard the haunting lyrics of Gordon Lightfoot’s ballad, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Last week saw the 35th anniversary of the ship’s sinking on 10 November 1975. Though many questions about the wreck have been answered, many others remain unanswered. Right now, the favored explanation suggests a rogue wave some fifty-feet high swamped what was once the largest ship on the Great Lakes. As the ballad reports, Captain Ernest McSorley and his crew of 28 were all lost.
Last week, as I was reading the many stories recalling the wreck, I came across a feature of the story I had somehow missed before. The Fitz was travelling with another ship, the smaller, slower SS Arthur M Anderson, under Captain Jessie Cooper. When the storm broke on November 10th, Captain McSorley radioed Cooper that it was the biggest storm he had ever seen. Later, McSorley told Cooper that “they had water coming in,” their radar was not working, and the pumps were working constantly, but he still held out that they could make it to safety. It was not to be. The last communication between the Anderson and the Fitzgerald took place just after 7:00 pm; then “came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” as the great ship disappeared from the Anderson’s radar.
Captain Cooper reported what had happened to the Coast Guard. The Coast Guard asked Cooper if he would “put about” and search for the Fitzgerald. In other words, they were asking the smaller ship if it would halt its own dash for safety and sail back into the raging storm to try to find whoever may have survived the wreck. Cooper hesitated only a moment before agreeing to head back.
Of course, there were no survivors. But that part of the story reminds me that we should all thank God there are men and women who are willing to risk their lives for the sake of others. We should be grateful there are those who will run into a burning building as everyone else is running out. For that matter, we should be thankful that every day there are teachers who are willing to enter poorly-maintained schools to teach “at-risk” kids the rest of society has given up on. We should be thankful for those nurses who will hold the hand of an infection-riddled patient whose own family is afraid to visit.
Many years ago my pastor told the story of a young boy who drowned in a pond. When the police asked a bystander who could have saved him why he had done nothing he explained, “Well, I didn’t want to spoil my new suit.”
This Thanksgiving, remember to be thankful for those willing to plunge into dangerous situations for the sake of others.
