"River On Fire" - Adam Again, 1992 (alternative)

What would you say if you knew what I was thinking?

Maybe you do, but you know not to dig too deep
What if i knew what you needed for sure?
I've seen in your eyes you need more, much more
And I could be happy, and you could be miserable
I'll grab a metaphor out of the air
The Cuyahoga River on fire
What can you say? The impossible happens
What can you settle for?
What can you live without?
I remember the night I first darkened your door
And I swore that I loved you
My heart was pure
You could be happy, and I could be miserable
My open window, a dream in the dark
My fingers, your face
A spark, a trace
I know a lot about the history of Cleveland, Ohio
Disasters that have happened there
Like the Cuyahoga River on fire

Even though this is more of a love song bearing only a couple references to an actual historic event, mushy ballad or not, it did exactly what the title of this blog says - it remembers, or rather, causes someone else to remember or to become intrigued about its lyrics and learn something academic. I first this song when I was a kid, and this was the first time I'd heard anything about the Cuyahoga River catching on fire, and since this river was right in my back yard, I trotted myself up to the library to find out more.

It would be one thing if we could say that the Cuyahoga River fire was a freak accident, we learned from it, and it never happened again. However, it didn't happen just once - it happened in 1868, 1883, 1887, 1912, 1922, 1936, 1941, 1948, 1952, and 1969. And when they say that the river caught on fire all those times, it doesn't mean that many vessels had to be put out or that there were many fires along its banks. When they say that the river caught fire, they mean the actual river, itself, went up in blazes causing $1.5 million in 1952 alone. The last fire on June 22, 1969 lasted 30 minutes, and even though it only caused $50,000 in damages (mainly from damage to overpassing railroad bridges), it was enough to create national awareness to the environmental problems in Ohio, and "sparked" a national movement to improve water pollution control activities, including the creation of both the Federal and Ohio Environmental Protection Agencies.

The 100 mile Cuyahoga is also one of the main watersheds in NE Ohio, collecting waste and runoff water of an area of 813 square miles, and from as far south as Akron.The City of Cleveland was founded at the mouth of the Cuyahoga River when General Moses Cleveland of the Connecticut Land Company surveyed the company's holdings. The city became the capital of the Connecticut Western Reserve, being the obvious choice once the founders saw how much the area was fit for commerce. Cleveland, of course, is located on the shores of Lake Erie, which is also connected to the other four Great Lakes and the Atlantic Ocean via the St. Lawrence Seaway. At the time of the city's birth, the Cuyahoga was a popular waterway for American Indians and fur traders and was well-known for it's many trading posts along its course, which were the first forms of commerce and industry along the river. However, this is considered to also be a key factor in its demise. The Cuyahoga meanders too much and is too unpredictable for long-distance travel, however moving goods a short distance was still possible, and as the City of Cleveland continued to grow, more and more businesses and factories began springing up on its banks to take advantage of the river's water in one way or another.

As the City of Cleveland continued to grow, it attract more commerce along the river and along the shores of Lake Erie, into which the river empties. While Lake Erie is the source of the city's drinking water, Cleveland also became known for its pollution. In the early 1800s, there were very few governmental controls to limit how businesses functioned within the environment. More businesses attracted more people, who built more cities and towns around them. Continued population grown in the area continued to spur not only the release of factory waste products into the river, but added to that were increased urban runoff, non-point pollution, and later combined sewer overflows. As a result of the pouring in of contaminants, the Cuyahoga soon developed a layer of film on its surface, and this is what would burn whenever ignited.

On August 1, 1969, Time magazine reported: "Some River! Chocolate-brown, oily, bubbling with subsurface gases, it oozes rather than flows. 'Anyone who falls into the Cuyahoga does not drown' Cleveland's citizens joke grimly. 'He decays'. . . The Federal Water Pollution Control Administration dryly notes: 'The lower Cuyahoga has no visible signs of life, not even low forms such as leeches and sludge worms that usually thrive on wastes.' It is also -- literally -- a fire hazard." And, in fact, they were correct on more than one account. At this time, the entire length of the river that flowed between Akron and Cleveland was nearly completely devoid of fish and other aquatic life, and as was observed by a Kent State University symposium, the sledge on the surface of the water could be seen for miles and miles, with oil traveling in slicks sometimes several inches thick.

Since the 1970s, water quality has greatly improved. The mouth of the river used to be a swampy marshland, where water would slow down as it reached the lake. This would cause the drainage to back up and cause more pollution problems up river. As a result, the mouth of the Cuyahoga was moved about 4,000 feet from it's original marshy mouth and a man-made mouth was created. The Army Corps of Engineers maintains the depth of the river mouth by dredging, it to a depth of 27 feet. In addition, the banks have been straightened and turning basins widened, which help keep the water moving. Of course, the best improvement came in the form of the Clean Water Act and the Great Lakes Water Quality Agreement. While the river and the subsequent lake issues are still being addressed, life has returned to and the waters are once again safe to enjoy recreationally.










"River On Fire" - Adam Again, alternative (1992)


~information from:
http://www.ohiohistorycentral.org/entry.php?rec=1642
http://www.grc.nasa.gov/WWW/k-12/fenlewis/History.html

"The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" - Gordon Lightfoot, 1976 (ballad)

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitchee Gumee
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy.

With a load of iron ore - 26,000 tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early

The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconson
As the big freighters go it was bigger than most
With a crew and the Captain well seasoned.

Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ships bell rang
Could it be the North Wind they'd been feeling.

The wind in the wires made a tattletale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the Captain did, too,
T'was the witch of November come stealing.

The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashing
When afternoon came it was freezing rain
In the face of a hurricane West Wind

When supper time came the old cook came on deck
Saying fellows it's too rough to feed ya
At 7 pm a main hatchway caved in
He said fellas it's been good to know ya.

The Captain wired in he had water coming in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went out of sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does anyone know where the love of God goes
When the words turn the minutes to hours
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd fifteen more miles behind her.

They might have split up or they might have capsized
They may have broke deep and took water
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the ruins of her ice water mansion
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams,
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.

And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral
The church bell chimed, 'til it rang 29 times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Well, it's November and we haven't wrecked anything this month, so I figured today was a good time. How about a boat...a really big one that sank on November 10, 1975? Happy (or not) belated sinking anniversary. The wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald is more highly acclaimed by only one other shipwreck in history - the Titanic. That being said, however, it is THE most mysterious and most controversial shipwreck of all time, mostly because nearly every theory surrounding its disappearance and why it sank is pure speculation.

"The ship had been christened in 1958 and launched into the Detroit River on June 17. It was named after Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Company of Milwaukee's new board chairman, whose grandfather and five great uncles had been ship captains.

By 1975, the Fitzgerald was showing an average amount of wear for a ship on the Great Lakes. She had passed a rigorous two-month inspection (required yearly) in the spring of 1975, and had passed the Coast Guard out-of-water inspection (necessary every five years) in the spring of 1974. She was certified as seaworthy and safe for operation. An Oct. 31 inspection uncovered routine seasonal damage to the cargo hatches, but the Fitzgerald was granted permission to operate as long as the repairs were complete before the 1976 season.

There were 29 men aboard when the Fitzgerald launched that November. She was captained by Ernest McSorley, 63, of Toledo, Ohio. High water in the lakes since 1969 had prompted the U.S. Coast Guard to allow owners to load their ships to a greater depth and the Fitzgerald was no exception. She was loaded three feet deeper than had been considered safe in 1969, making her deck three feet closer to the water line." - Detroit News

On Nov. 9, gale warnings were issued for Lake Superior. By 2:15 p.m. on Nov. 9th, the giant lakes freighter had filled her cargo hold with 26,116 tons of taconite pellets in Superior, Wis., and was on her way south to Detroit, as an uneventful shipping season ran down.

The Edmund Fitzgerald was lost with her entire crew of 29 men on Lake Superior November 10, 1975, 17 miles north-northwest of Whitefish Point, Michigan. Once under way, the Fitzgerald didn't travel alone. She met up with another ore freighter near Two Harbors, Minnesota - the Arthur Anderson, who's captain was Captain Jesse B. Cooper. Cooper and McSorely maintained radio contact, discussing the storm. Due to the increasing intensity, they agreed to change course and to steer nearer to Lake Superior's north shore. They were hoping that by keeping close to the shores of Canada they'd be somewhat protected from the storm. The two ships weathered it together, maintaining radio contact and a distance of only 16 miles between each other.

The storm worsened. Not uncommon on and around the Great Lakes, it began snowing heavily, blurring all visibility. As if that wasn't enough, the waves grew steadliy to 12-16 feet. Winds gusted at 90 mph. The Soo Locks, where the Fitzgerald was due, were closed. The Coast Guard issued a warning that all ships were to find safe harbor until the storm subsided. By 6 pm on November 10, the crashing waves towered a hulking 25 feet over the vessels.

The crashing waves knocked out the ship's radar; so, Captain McSorely let the Anderson catch up and help him navigate the now treacherous waters. At 7:10 pm, Captain Cooper radioed Captain McSorely to warn him that they were approaching another vessel 9 miles ahead. However, Captain Cooper also a ssured Captain McSorely that upon their present course, the ship would pass to their west. The first mate of the Arthur Anderson signed off by asking, "How are you making out with your problem?" The Fitzgerald replied: "We are holding our own."

That was the last anyone ever heard from Captain McSorely or any of the 29 crew aboard the Edmund Fitzgerald. The 729-foot behemouth had vanished in the blink of an eye. On November 10, 1975, the Edmund Fitzgerald was lost at sea with all hands. An extensive search was launched to find or recover the lost vessel, but not a single trace of her was to be found: there were no bodies, no debris...nothing. As the song says, in Detroit, Michigan, the bell at the Mariner's Church rang 29 times - once for each of the crew. On November 14, she was located. They were found 530 feet below the surface of Lake Superior, just 17 miles from their safe harbor of Whitefish Point.

Even though it was found, the Fitzgerald was never salvaged nor was the remains of the crew ever recovered. It remains in it's finaly resting place even today. However, on July 4, 1995, at the request of the crew's surviving family members, the ship's 200 lb. bronze bell was retrieved by the Great Lakes Shipwreck Historical Society. The endeavor was jointly executed by The National Geographic Society, The Sony Corporation, the Canadian Navy, and Sault Ste. Marie tribe of Chippewa Indians (who maintain the legend, as the song says). The bell is now in the Great Lakes Shipwreck museum as a tribute to her lost crew.

The Crew: Ernest M. McSorley, 63, Captain, Toledo Ohio; John H. McCarthy, 62, Mate, Bay Village, Ohio; James A. Pratt, 44, second mate, Lakewood, Ohio; Michael E. Armagost, 37, third mate, Iron River, Wisconsin; Thomas Bentsen, 23, oiler, St. Joseph, Michigan; Thomas D. Borgeson, 4l, maintenance man, Duluth, Minnesota; John D. Simmons, 60, wheelsman, Ashland, Wisconsin; Eugene W. O'Brien, 50, wheelsman, Toledo, Ohio; John J. Poviatch, 59, wheelsman, Bradenton, Florida; Ranson E. Cundy, 53, watchman, Superior, Wisconsin; William J. Spengler, 59, watchman, Toledo, Ohio; Karl A. Peckol, 20, watchman, Ashtabula, Ohio; Mark A. Thomas, 2l, deck hand, Richmond Heights, Ohio; Paul M. Rippa, 22, deck hand, Ashtabula, Ohio; Bruce L. Hudson, 22, deck hand, North Olmsted, Ohio; David E. Weiss, 22, cadet, Agoura, California; Robert C. Rafferty, 62, steward, Toledo, Ohio; Allen G. Kalmon, 43, second cook, Washburn, Wisconsin; Frederick J. Beetcher, 56, porter, Superior, Wisconsin; Nolan F. Church, 55, porter, Silver Bay, Minnesota; George Holl, 60, chief engineer, Cabot, Pennsylvania; Edward F. Bindon, 47, first assistant engineer, Fairport Harbor, Ohio; Thomas E. Edwards, 50, second assistant engineer, Oregon, Ohio; Russell G. Haskell, 40, second assistant engineer, Millbury, Ohio; Oliver J. Champeau, 4l, third assistant engineer, Milwaukee, Wisconsin; Blaine H. Wilhelm, 52, oiler, Moguah, Wisconsin; Ralph G. Walton, 58, oiler, Fremont, Ohio; Joseph W. Mazes, 59, special maintenance man, Ashland, Wisconsin; Gordon F. MacLellan, 30, wiper, Clearwater, Florida

About the Great Lakes (and why they're so treacherous):

Unless you live here (like I do), you know there really are no words to describe these bodies of water. The term "lake" is the understatement of the year. They're more like inland seas than lakes. The Lakes are actually one giant waterway system, all connected to each other, flowing from west to east, down the St. Lawrence, and out into the Atlantic Ocean. These Lakes are so enormous that they actually create their own weather systems, capable of even creating inland hurricanes. The Lakes make up 22% of the world's fresh water. There is enough water in the Great Lakes to cover the 48 contiguous states with 9.5 feet of water. Even under normal circumstances, when Canadian winds sweep across these Lakes, the winds draw an incredible amount of moisture, but when these winds finally make landfall they cannot hold it any longer and dump that moisture on the surrounding land.

In the summer, the Lakes are fairly calm and precipitation is normal, although because of them we have a saying, "This is Ohio. If you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes." However, winter time is when it really gets going. The "Witch of November" in the song is what us locals know as that cold, hard west wind that just blows incessantly during the month of November. You've probably heard of "The Bible Belt" down South and "the Corn Belt" in the MidWest. Here in NE Ohio, off the shores of Lake Erie, we have "the Snow Belt". Because of the Great Lakes, it is not uncommon for it to snow several feet in a matter of just a couple of hours (from the air that can't hold it's moisture as it rises over the land). And yes, it gets REALLY cold AND snowy here, usually around January and February.

But the intense weather isn't the only reason these Lakes are deadly. Having dived these Lakes, I can personally attest to the fact that these Lakes (at least Lake Erie) can go from having great depths to extremely shallow in a matter of just a few nautical miles. The silt sea bed is always on the move and forever changing shape. Also, because one Lake feeds into another, the water levels go up and down seasonally, as well as the occasional surge or sudden withdrawl of water levels. This can make shipping quite dangerous, as in the case of the Fitzgerald, where they were laden with enough ore to lower their hull significantly, which could have caused the ship to run aground on the many shoals found in each of the Lakes. However, the shape and depth of the shoal can vary a great deal in as little time as a day, making safe navigation a real chore in calm water, let alone during a severe storm. The Lake bottoms are just as unpredictable as the weather above!

"The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald" - Gordon Lightfoot, 1976

~information gathered by "surfing" the internet, specifically the Detroit News