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REMEMBER THIS? The last voyage of the SS Myron

This week, we learn the first part of two parts to a story about the demise of a steamer on Lake Superior in November 1919

From the archives of the Sault Ste. Marie Public Library:

The Gales of November may be irrevocably linked with the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald, but they have marked the end of many other ships throughout Lake Superior’s history. One such ship was the SS Myron, an American steamship built in 1888.

The ship, originally known as the Mark Hopkins, had a fraught history: sinking, being raised and rebuilt, and running aground. She also underwent a name change, becoming known as the Myron. A lumber hooker, the Myron would carry materials and tow barges.

In the early morning hours of November 22, 1919, the Myron left on her final trip, under the guidance of Captain Walter Neal. Neither the captain nor the 17 other crew members aboard were aware of what was to come. She was loaded down with lumber — hemlock to be specific — and towing the Miztec, a schooner barge also carrying lumber. The Myron and the Miztec departed Munising, Michigan, bound for Buffalo, New York.

It had already been a bad month for shipwrecks. Within the previous two weeks alone, the lake had swallowed up the H. E. Runnels and the John Owen; all 22 crew aboard the John Owen had perished.

As for the Myron, a couple of hours into her journey, she faced gales of close to 100 km/h, and wintery conditions. The waves were high, and the snow was heavy. Covered in a thick layer of ice and with pumps unable to keep up with the water coming in, she crawled along. Fearing what would come next, the captain dropped the Miztec off in the area of Vermilion Point, where she would be picked up safely days later, and then continued onwards.

Much like the Edmund Fitzgerald, the captain of the Myron wanted to make it to Whitefish Bay. And, also like the Fitzgerald, things were about to go from bad to worse.

Another steamer, the Adriatic was also on the water. She was larger and made of steel, unlike the wooden Myron, making her more apt to withstand the storm. For a while, she sheltered the Myron, and the two made their way, side by side, towards Whitefish Bay.

It was around 5 p.m. on November 22. After a day of gruelling conditions on the water, the Myron was less than three kilometres away from the relative safety of Whitefish Bay. But the water below deck proved to be too much. Her boilers went out, and she foundered and sank in mere minutes. The only chance of survival rested in her two lifeboats, which were described as the “unsinkable type” … and in her pilothouse, which the wind ripped off of the ship with the captain still inside.

The Adriatic attempted to stay and rescue any survivors among the debris. He reported seeing two lifeboats and trying to throw lines to the survivors. But the risk of foundering herself was too great. After touching bottom twice, she gave up and moved on.

As the Captain of the Adriatic was quoted in the Globe: “We circled around the steamer several times, hoping to get a line to the crew. We could see about fifteen men in lifeboats and a few more on wreckage. We stayed by until my steamer struck bottom at four fathoms, when I was compelled to put out and leave… As we saw the Myron was going to pieces, we tried to do our best to save her crew.”

As the Globe reported, another nearby steel steamer, the H.P. McIntosh, also attempted to rescue the survivors. From on the ship, “the crew… heard the sailors begging for aid. Several were clinging to a cabin. One man had a flashlight, by aid of which the McIntosh could see the terrible scene between little flashes.” The crew of the McIntosh got close enough to throw ropes, but by that point, the castaways’ hands had been so numbed by the cold, or they were too afraid to lose their grip on the wreckage keeping them afloat, that they could not hold the lines to be pulled to safety. The H.P. McIntosh too, at risk of destruction from the waves, pulled away.

A lifesaving crew from Vermilion, following the ship for some time, also hoped to reach the crew. The debris proved too much to get through. And while they guessed at where the lifeboats might be washed, nothing turned up. Injured themselves and exhausted, they gave up the search.

Check back next week for the conclusion of this watery tale!

Each week, the Sault Ste. Marie Public Library and its Archives provide SooToday readers with a glimpse of the city’s past.

Find out more of what the Public Library has to offer at www.ssmpl.ca and look for more "Remember This?" columns here.



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