The Storm of 1912

The Great Storm of 1912

      “The storm that struck this shore Saturday afternoon [November 23, 1912] proved one of the nastiest on the lake that boatmen have experienced in a long time. It came up almost without warning and lashed the lake into a fury before small crafts had time to get to safe harbor.”

                                                                                                           Ludington Chronicle
                                                                                                           November 27, 1912

 

     “Captain Hans Hermanson says it was the worst storm he has experienced in twenty years of service on the Great Lakes and that for the first time in his life he put on a life preserver.”

                                     Saginaw Courier Herald

                                     November 28, 1912

 

 

            The year was 1912. The month, November. Autumn had fallen asleep in northern Michigan, and winter was rising. It would rise first on land, and then move to the waters, freezing them solid.

There was still time for Captain Herman Schuenemann to make his last sail of the season, but he needed to hurry if he didn’t want to meet Old Man Winter, face-to-face, in the worst possible place – on the open lake.

A storm was poised and ready to strike. Ominous clouds hung low on the horizon. Yet Captain Schuenemann believed that if he hurried, he could get his ship ahead of the storm.

On November 22, 1912, he gave the order to sail. It was a fatal decision, and the lives of everyone on board were hinged to it.

Old Man Winter was challenging Captain Schuenemann to a race down the lake. One of them would reach Chicago by the following day, and the other not at all.

Captain Schuenemann knew the dangers of sailing in November - the most treacherous month of the year - as well as anyone could have. After all, he had been delivering his Christmas trees across these stormy waters for nearly a quarter of a century by this time. Most captains refused to sail in this feared month, and saw to it that their vessels were off the Great Lakes by the end of October. However, this was not an option a Christmas tree merchant had the luxury of exercising.

Late afternoon on November 22, 1912, the aging schooner Rouse Simmons, fully loaded with evergreens, departed Thompson, Michigan, for its final voyage. The barometer was falling and the winds were rising - a deadly combination. If Captain Schuenemann had any question about his ability to navigate his vessel safely to Chicago, his question would be answered before the sun set on a single day more.

          The “Big Storm” of 1912 hit in full force sometime during the late evening hours of November 22^nd and the very early morning hours of November 23, 1912. Temperatures plummeted. Heavy rains turned to swirling snow. Winds intensified. The heartbeat of the storm pounded faster and louder.

It wasn’t long before the hypnotic rhythm of the waves was broken, and the convulsing waters were heaving like an earthquake. Great walls of water were being thrown at the Simmons. The storm seemed to be closing in on Captain Schuenemann from every direction of the compass, and he and his crew were in serious trouble.

Captain Schuenemann was no stranger to bad weather. He had fought his way through more than one severe storm in his day. According to the Milwaukee Journal of December 8, 1992, Schuenemann was “an experienced sailor who had come through a fierce season of gales unscathed” during one particularly rough autumn “when dozens of other vessels had been destroyed.”

Captain Schuenemann knew the risks of being in the middle of the lake when the mood of the waters turned ugly. But did he know he would soon suffer the same fate as the brother he once loved? 

          Captain August Schuenemann, Captain Herman’s oldest brother, had lost both his ship and his life during a violent November storm in 1898, fourteen years earlier. Ironically, August, too, was hauling a load of Christmas trees to Chicago when his ship, the S. Thal, went down just north of the city on November 9, 1898. Everyone on board perished.

          The January 1935 issue of The Chicagoan included an article regarding the tragedy of the S. Thal. It was written by an eyewitness journalist who was on the scene shortly after the S. Thal was lost. The journalist referred to the sinking as “the pitiful tale of a little schooner laden with Christmas trees from the north woods, foundering with all on board when fairly within sight of its holiday market.” The article continued: “The lake gave up its dead, tardily, but for many days the tragedy of the skipper and his little ship left its impress upon the Chicago public. Chests, doors, pieces of rail, broken timbers showing rot where bolts had gone through, and the sternpiece bearing ‘S. Thal of Sturgeon Bay,’ with the young evergreens ashore, indicated the utter breaking up of the craft.”

          The deadly storm of 1898 in which Captain August lost his life was, in many respects, as severe as the storm of 1912 that claimed the life of August’s younger brother, Herman...

           

 

…The losses suffered on the Great Lakes in the 1800’s and early 1900’s during November were hard to swallow. It was a month that claimed more lives than its fair share, despite the fact that there were so few ships left on the open waters…

 

 

…The dangers of shipping were well understood. Whole families living along shorelines were involved in trades linked to the waters. Shipping was the backbone of life during this time, and, thus, every father, husband or son who plied the waters could be the next victim claimed. For this reason, the marine community was as close knit as any other. Persons living along the shores of the Great Lakes looked at any loss as everyone’s loss, a warning of the dangers, a reminder of life’s fragileness…

 

 

…On November 23, 1912, another reminder was on its way. The Rouse Simmons was fighting to free itself from the grip of a terrible storm. It was a struggle the doomed ship was destined to lose.

Winds were howling. Gale force gusts hit 60-80 m.p.h.  Ice was freezing to beards and brows, numbing sailors to the bone. And towering seas were now climbing aboard the Simmons, invading it, penetrating every nook and cranny.

All around the lake, similar battles were being fought by other vessels trying to stay afloat in the brutal storm. Directly across the lake from the Simmons, near Pentwater, Michigan, the ship Two Brothers sunk, and its entire crew was drowned.

To the north of the Simmons’ struggle, the men aboard the Three Sisters were taking their final breaths. By the following morning, their ship, too, would succumb to the waters, and three more men would lay dead.

Lake Superior did not escape the fury unleashed on Lake Michigan that dreadful day, nor the crippling effects the storm left in its wake. The passenger ferry, South Shore, was taken to Superior’s bottom during the same storm of November 22-24, 1912.

On November 25, 1912, the Muskegon News Chronicle, Muskegon, Michigan, released the following report concerning the ferociousness of the storm that struck Lake Superior: “Harrowing stories of the fury of the gale which swept the eastern end of Lake Superior Saturday night [November 23] were told this morning by Captain Massay of the steamer Sullivan…. ‘When we left Duluth,’ he said, ‘the wind was northeast, but in the worst part of the lake it shifted to northwest. The vessel became almost unmanageable as the sea came from all directions. Several of the hatch covers were carried away and heavy plate glass windows in the pilot house were smashed by mountains of sea.’”

Other reports began to surface almost immediately of damage done and lives lost. Terrifying details made headlines. The Ludington Chronicle said the storm was “one of the nastiest on the lake that boatmen have experienced in a long time,” and the Saginaw Courier Herald, another Michigan newspaper, reported the storm was “the worst snow storm this city has experienced at this time of year in many seasons.”  The Sheboygan Press in Wisconsin reported the storm to be “one of the worst on Lake Michigan in three years.” 

Captains also weighed in with comments. Captain Lofesberg of Racine, Wisconsin, was quoted as saying the storm was “the worst experienced in this section for the last two years,” while Captain Hans Hermanson said the storm was the worst he experienced in twenty years of service on the Great Lakes. Captain Martin Kjelson from Sheboygan, Wisconsin, reported that he and his crew thought it was probably the worst storm they had ever experienced…

 

 

…Although several ships were lost in the same storm responsible for the Simmons’ tragedy, only the Rouse Simmons went to the bottom without an eye-witness to its demise. The South Shore shipwreck, as well as the Two Brothers shipwreck, occurred within sight of life saving crews. And although the Three Sisters tragedy took place before a life saving crew arrived, civilians were gathered on shore, attempting to give whatever aid they could to the drowning sailors.

According to the Kewaunee Enterprise of November 29, 1912, the Three Sisters “was sighted at daylight” around 7:00 a.m. on Sunday, November 24, 1912, and the shore was “soon alive with men, women and children.”

The article continued: “Several boats were procured, but every effort the men made to reach the unfortunate sailors was resisted by the heavy sea, and they were forced to turn back to shore. All hope to save the unfortunate sailors was about given up when Reverend Father Melchoir descended to the shore from his church, determined to rescue his drowning fellow men.”

Unfortunately, Reverend Father Melchoir’s brave attempts could not bring life to these dying men, despite a remarkable display of heroism and self-sacrifice which included diving into the icy waters toward one of the sailors who had jumped from the ship.

Reverend Melchoir was not alone in his courageous willingness to risk his own life to save another. He was joined by several men on shore who also displayed admirable valor.  Each was later nominated for a Carnegie Heroism Medal, as was reported by the Kewaunee Enterprise of December 13, 1912. The article stated that these men saw the schooner “pounding to pieces and the sailors helpless.”  The men then took boats and “in the face of almost certain death endeavored to reach the drowning men. The seas were rolling high, the weather was biting cold, and still these men ventured in open yawls, at the risk of their lives, to extend a helping hand to the drowning sailors. The fact that several lives were lost was not due to a lack of heroism on the part of Reverend Melchoir, George Debaker, Gould Poutier and F. Delfosse…” 

 

…Several clues emerged in the weeks following the storm to support the theory that the Simmons was in dire need of help in its final hours, as indicated by its distress flags. First, bundles of Christmas trees floated ashore. This meant one of two things: Either the relentless pounding of the waves had washed the trees off the deck, or the trees were intentionally thrown off the ship by the crew when the vessel started taking on water from the waves.

The Milwaukee Sentinel of December 4, 1912, reported: “It is believed that the captain threw the trees overboard to lighten the vessel.”

One week after this statement was published, a bottle was found with a note inside written by Captain Schuenemann. The note, in part, stated: “leaking bad.” This statement would support the theory that the trees were thrown overboard by the crew in an urgent effort to lighten the load. The Simmons was an old ship. If the sea was pounding on it, there is every reason to suppose it was leaking, as the captain said, sinking it lower into the waters.

But the note also included the sentence, “Sea washed over our deckload Thursday.”  If this was the case, then the trees on deck may have gone overboard with the waves. Although we cannot know precisely what happened, what can be known for sure is this: the storm was wreaking havoc on the ship.

In addition to trees going overboard, the Schuenemann note further stated a small boat had been “washed over” along with two crew members. If two men, indeed, were washed over, they would have fallen to an almost certain death.

A second note, found approximately six months later on a beach north of the Simmons’ sinking, seemed to support the idea that one or more of the men aboard the ship may have been lost in raging seas. The note, signed by Captain Charles Nelson, Captain Schuenemann’s partner, was dated November 23, 1912. Captain Nelson wrote: “Schooner Rouse Simmons ready to go down…all hands lashed to one line.” If the accuracy of this letter is relied upon, Captain Nelson tells us an important detail regarding the storm’s severity.

“All hands lashed to one line” meant that every man on board was tied to the other men with a rope linked around each sailor’s waist. The end of the rope would then have been tied to the ship’s mast to prevent the waves from washing crew members overboard.  Sailors “lashed” themselves together only in the most severe storms when the danger of someone being washed overboard was close at hand. If two crew members had already been washed off the ship, as indicated by the Schuenemann note, the remaining men were attempting to make sure this didn’t happen again.

“God help us,” were the words Captain Schuenemann chose to end his note. He was a man of deep faith, and was praying a final, desperate prayer before the end came. Perhaps the others on board were asking God for help also, or perhaps they were simply asking a question that had never been answered: “Where does the love of God go when the gales of November blow?”

Although the bottled notes have been a point of much debate, there is no debate regarding the intensity of the storm that hit November 22-24, 1912. It was remembered as “one of the most terrific storms that ever thrashed Lake Michigan (Manistique Pioneer-Tribune, Manistique, MI, April 17, 1924).” Old Man Winter came calling in November of 1912, but instead of knocking, he kicked in the door.

His fury continued throughout the next couple of weeks, bringing additional treacherous weather to the Great Lakes while search efforts were underway for the missing Rouse Simmons. Despite diligent search through storm-tossed waters, all hope for the ship was finally abandoned shortly before Christmas of 1912.

The Rouse Simmons ended its once-proud days in a hard fought battle against wind and wave, but eventually it became powerless against the storm. Finally, the moment of surrender arrived, and the sea prevailed….

 

     “The list of ships lost in November grows ever longer, but of all of them the questions of why and how are most intriguing with the Rouse Simmons, the Christmas Tree Ship.”

Green Bay Press-Gazette

November 23, 1974