The Sinking of the Eastland: America's Forgotten Tragedy 0806526289

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NG OF THE

AMERICA'S FORGOTTEN TRAGEDY

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JAY

BONANSING

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ISBN 0-8065-2628-9

U.S. $21 .95

CAN

$29.95

like many other summer Saturdays. Over 2,000 Western Electric

Chicago, July 24, 1915: The day began carefree

employees and

dressed

their families,

in

their finest,

arrived early at the riverfront to board the Eastland, a

bold and breathtaking steamship. That morning the boat

was scheduled to ferry its passengers to the annual company picnic in Michigan City. Suddenly as it sat in port, the Eastland began to list. While thousands of people watched in horror the ship rolled to its side and silently capsized, killing a staggering 844 people. .

.

Unlike the fabled sinking of the 7/fa^/c three years before,

somehow been lost within the Now award-winning

the Eastland disaster has

annals of recent American history. writer

and Chicagoan Jay Bonansinga has set out

discover details

why— and

the result

real-life

drama with

a

suspense

is

to

a historical thriller that

excitement and

the

all

that a remarkable storyteller can deliver.

Using eyewitness narratives, rare archival materials, and touching first-hand accounts from those with their

story of the sinking of the Eastland

devoted to the to

life

all

the

who escaped

Bonansinga pieces together the untold

lives,

human drama and

sights

in

of the

sounds

the only book ever subject. of

Bringing

1915 Chicago,

Bonansinga recounts minute by minute the extraordinary events of that fateful day. He explores the secrets behind

why the catastrophe could how safety measures taken in

the Eastland's troubled past,

have been predicted, and the

wake

of the

Titanic disaster ironically contributed to

the Eastland's demise.

You'll

meet the master

of the

Eastland, Captain Harry

Pederson. whose behavior before, during, and after the accident would be scrutinized for years to come; the Eastland's crew,

some

of

of the wreck: both lucky

a thirteen-year-old

a

girl

whom became

helpless victims

and unlucky passengers, including

faced with the fight of her

young mechanic who became one

of the day's

life:

and

unsung

heroes. At once riveting and poignant, The Sinking of the

Eastland honors the forgotten victims of this tragedy, while bringing to

life

a haunting,

bygone

era.

977.311041 BONANSINGA 2004 Bonansinga, Jay R. The sinKing of the Eastland

31111019452646

BEL-TIB

DATE DUE MAR

2 2003

jEsmm^

Brodan Co.

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#55

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THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND

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steamer Eastland

THE

INKING OF THE EASTLAND Americans Forgotten Tragedy

Jay

Bonansinga

n CITADEL PRESS Kensington Publishing Corp.

www.kensingtonbooks.com

CITADEL PRESS BOOKS

are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.

850 Third Avenue York, NY 10022

New

Copyright

©

2004 Jay Bonansinga

All rights reserved.

No

part of this

book may be reproduced

in

any form or

by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

"Lost" by Carl Sandburg,

©

1916, Henry Holt and Company; from

Chicago Poems, Dover Edition, All

Kensington

titles,

imprints,

©

1994; used by permission.

and distributed

lines are available at special

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book excerpts or

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For

cus-

details, write

or phone the office of the Kensington special sales manager: Kensington

Publishing Corp., 850 Third Avenue, Sales

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NY

CITADEL PRESS and Jacket photo credit:

the Citadel logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. &:

attn: Special

First printing:

9

Printed

8

in

7

October 2004 6

TM

DN-0064949, Chicago Daily News (Chicago

Society)

10

10022,

Department; phone 1-800-221-2647.

5

4

2

3

the United States of

Library of Congress (Control

ISBN 0-8065-2628-9

1

America

Number: 200410601

Off.

Historical

Dedicated to the 844

Digitized by tlie Internet Archive in

2011

http://www.archive.org/details/sinl" "Western the

Electric, the

Hawthorne works,

A on the a

this

scene, this

direction.

One

ambulance was

model A-style

chassis, with

cab. In the time before sirens lation red cross

on the

morning! From

the picnickers!"

motorized ambulance came screaming

from the opposite

on

group going out

of the

first

down Lake

Street

emergency vehicles

a plain box-type trailer carried

shaded windows and an open

and chaser

lights, the

simple regu-

vehicle's side told bystanders everything

they needed to know.

87

BONANSINGA

JAY

The cop waved Repa.

No

the

ambulance

how

record exists of

It is

on the narrow running board as Hilton has suggested

The ambulance

may have hopped onto

rest of the

arrived at the

and seven-forty,

capsizing.

Repa hopped

down

more

likely,

much

step,"

way.

minutes after the

five to ten

off the running

the weather-beaten steps, her heart

couldn't see

the

dock sometime between seven-

mere

a

at

though, that she rode

—or perhaps even the "back

—the

thirty-five

motioning wildly

the nurse rode the remaining

single city block to the wharf. She

attendant's seat in the cab.

over,

board and hastened

drumming. She

still

over the sea of straw hats and derbies swarm-

Hausman

ing the pier in front of the

slowed to a miserable gray

The nurse pressed just then shambling

Building.

The

rain

had

veil.

against the flow of survivors,

away from

who were

the fallen boat like waterlogged

zombies, their ashen faces scanning the wharf as though unable

awaken from

to fully

a nightmare.

Repa pushed her way

to the

edge of the dock where she could see the torn piling lying bent

and ragged near Clark

Street, pointing like

toward the wreck. The ship

an accusatory finger

lay roughly twenty feet away.

Ranks of people stood on

the Eastland's exposed hull,

drenched and stunned and looking around, trying

in vain to

absorb the cataclysm. The noise on the water wrenched Nurse Repa's attention away. "I

shall never be able to forget

reported. "People were struggling

what

I

saw," she later

in the water, clustered so

thickly that they literally covered the surface of the river.

were swimming; the to a

life raft

that

they could reach

rest

at bits of

other, pulling each other

was

the

most horrible of

Repa got

to

few

were floundering about, some clinging

had floated

—

A

free,

wood,

others clutching at anything at

each other, grabbing each

down, and screaming! The screaming all."

work immediately.

— THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND

Forty miles

to the west, in Lockport, Illinois,

sizing sizzled

Bear Trap

Dam. They sprang from

dam. With

of the cap-

through telegraph wires, alerting engineers

at the

and morning

their card tables

and rushed to the massive switch

coffee,

word

levers overlooking the

a great,

heaving effort they yanked the corroded

down

the drainage canal and stopping the flow of

levers, closing

the river's current.

At the ACCIDENT

SITE,

from the starboard

the last few unfortunates

railing,

beyond the reach of those on the swallowed by the

into the water, their screams

river.

woman from

"I

A

still

body. Several

lifeless

child

far

let

go of

spent agonizing minutes trying to

from her arms.

saw strong men turn

Babcock reported.

men

few

the river

clutching a baby that had already expired. She refused to

pry the

hull,

most of them launched from the Roosevelt, arrived

too late for many. Rescuers pulled one

the tiny,

hanging

Mostly women, they began to plunge, one by one,

lost their grips.

lifeboats,

who were

"I

their eyes

saw others

away and groan and weep,"

stagger

and

faint.

I

heard

women

ashore shriek out hysterically and saw them swoon. Others ran

screaming from the mind-racking scene and were swallowed up the

fast-gathering,

Thrilling

panicky,

shouting,

wild-eyed

in

multitude.

and heartbreaking incidents happened so rapidly

as to be

kaleidoscopic."

Help eventually came,

albeit slowly,

and often

in

an unor-

ganized, ill-advised fashion.

Many

of the riverfront businesses had private telephone

and the wires seethed with fumbled

at rotary dials

for doctors

from nearby

anybody who had the

lines,

distress calls, as trembling fingers

on candlestick phones. Calls went out hospitals, for nurses,

and

slightest skill to contribute.

89

for firemen

JAY

BONANSINGA

EMTs, and paramedics, much of the emergency response became mired in nineteenth-century techIn a time before 911,

nology

—the kind that steams and huffs and clops and defecates

in the street.

Chicago's

fire

department was not yet motorized.

Their sluggish, primitive horse-drawn wagons, on

proved

ill-suited to

wooden

wheels,

meet a disaster the magnitude of the Eastland

capsizing.

The at

closest firehouse

was only

a block or so away: Station 13

209 North Dearborn, between South Water and Lake

The

air instantly filled

Street.

with the trademark clanging of

fire

gongs. Although hand-cranked sirens were being used in other

metropolitan areas (such as

employed these massive horses.

Mounted on

New

bells in

York), Chicago firemen

still

order to avoid spooking the

the side of each pumper, the gongs were

operated by foot pedal. During a rare multi-alarm event such as the Eastland catastrophe, the dissonant ringing of gongs told

all

within earshot that help was on the way. Unfortunately, the enor-

mity of the Eastland disaster had a strange kind of mortifying effect

on many of the emergency workers,

The cops tocol.

at the scene

They pushed back

members. They shoved

did

more "I

Amid

their heels into the vagaries of pro-

the onrush.

at hysterical

children. Reinforcements

beat-walks.

dug

especially the police.

They halted

women

frantic family

calling out for errant

were rushing to the wreck from nearby

the frenzy,

many

bystanders

to hinder than to help during those early

saw

at least

twenty expert swimmers

sonally take off their coats and the river to rescue struggling

Coe, a welder

who had

whom

beg the police to

the officers

felt,

let

men and women,"

moments. I

know

per-

them dive

in

recalled A. D.

hurried to the scene with his acetylene

torch and three of his men. "The police obdurately refused but did nothing themselves to help."

A

named E G. Hubwelder minutes earlier. Hubbard was a

fast-thinking Western Electric employee

bard had

summoned

the

90

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND master mechanic at the Hawthorne works, and chances are, he

had taken one look the dock

and

at the fallen

boat from his vantage point on

instantly understood that the only chance to save

hundreds trapped below-decks was to burn holes

in the

damn

thing.

"We had

five burners,"

Coe marveled

largest in the United States.

later,

"one of them the

But the police wouldn't

let

us

through."

The only thing burning at a

at that point

premium.

91

was

time,

and time was

CHAPTER NINE

Daredevil

and the

"A

BIG boat's

Human

gone down on the

At approximately

Rex Frog

river!"

seven-forty-five, while

Western

Electric pic-

nickers fought for their lives eight miles to the south, a shrill cry

pierced the placid air outside a small repair garage at Springfield Avenue. sat

on a

The

garage, a

sleepy, tree-shaded

filthy, cluttered,

3812 North

two-horse

affair,

neighborhood of Old Irving Park.

A

pair of hyperactive teenage brothers were huddled in this glorified

shed, occupying themselves with a jumble of greasy, dismantled

motorcycles.

The wiping

eldest

his

boy

hands

in

set

an

down

oily rag.

his

massive wrench and stood,

He cocked

his

handsome head

though trying to reckon whether or not he had

just

heard what

he thought he had heard. The voice rang out again. The door, daughter of well-to-do family that had their

as

own

girl

next

telephone,

kept squawking something about a ship turning over in the

Chicago

River.

The two boys looked It is

at

each other.

highly probable that something unspoken yet powerful

92

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND passed between the two Bowles brothers

Berwyn, the younger boy, standing engulfed in shadows,

The

knew

exactly

in

moment.

that

in the rear of the garage,

what was about

to happen.

older boy, Charles, stood in the open doorway, silhouetted in

the overcast light.

moment with

A

boat's

He became

very

still.

His eyes flared for a

and

a mixture of excitement, tension

gone down on the

fearlessness.

river^

Like a bird dog suddenly on the scent, the elder Bowles

scooped up the wrench and lunged across the garage to the nearest intact

motorbike. Quickly tightening a few bolts, he hopped on

board and kicked

it

into

The engine

life.

sputtered and barked.

Gears crunched, then engaged, and the tailpipe plumed black exhaust across the garage.

Charles Bowles yanked the throttle and roared out of the

shadows of the garage, and reached the end of seconds.

Head lowered

man must have

his block within

into the wind, eyes narrowed, the

looked to a casual observer

like

young

an avenging

angel as his motorbike screeched around the corner of Springfield

toward Elston. The bike

bel-

rattled over the brick composite.

The

and Waveland, then headed lowed and complained as

machine needed about

its

a

new

it

east

bearing,

and the boy wasn't too sure

engine, but that mattered

styled daredevil in

little.

This boy was a

an era when the word daredevil

still

self-

meant

something.

Eyes fixed on the gray horizon, back hunched over the battered gas tank, the

young man focused on the mission.

"I'm burning to death! I'M

BURNING TO DEATH!!"

The muffled, tortured sound of

a man's death cries seeped

through the iron wall and bounced around the flooded chamber of the Eastland's 'tween deck as Bobbie Aanstad paddled furiously, trying to

line

and ignore

away, her mother had

somehow

keep her chin above the

the horrible screams.

Ten

feet

93

rising

water

JAY

managed wreckage

on some mangled

to keep a tenuous, slippery grip

—

perhaps a broken banister, perhaps a bench damaged

in the capsizing

—while she simultaneously clutched

But Marianne looked

Twenty ing

BONANSINGA

feet

tired,

and her grip was

away, Uncle Olaf tried

in

little

Solveig.

faltering.

vain to save a drown-

woman. For nearly a half hour the Aanstads had been trapped inside

the overturned boat,

and Bobbie had been treading water

most of that time. Every bone and tendon

pound body ached. to hold onto.

Earlier she

The water had

had searched

that

in vain for

floor.

for the

weary Marianne, and

three of

all

rheum. They had no

into the filthy

life

now were

and

would be too

them would sink

Not even

preservers.

stray piece of bread or biscuit to laugh at.

floated by

something

Bobbie worried

she grabbed hold of her mother, the weight

if

much

in her lithe, eighty-

risen over the other balustrades,

nothing else protruded from the ceiling or

for

The only

a

things that

bodies.

Don't think about them, don't even look at them^ Bobbie silently told herself,

slamming her eyes

shut. There's nothing

you

can do for them. They're just tissue and cloth now. Just dead

and soaking wet

tissue

cloth.

Bobbie shuddered. She opened her eyes and glanced up

at

that wafer of gray sky barely visible in the gap above her. Pain

stabbed her neck. She looked back

water

in front of her.

A woman,

down

face

at the surface of the

down,

floated nearby, her

dress clinging to her twisted, pale body, followed by a

young

man

skinny

much

not

arms splayed

older than Bobbie, also face

tried to fix her

his

withered branches. They probably had per-

like

ished in the crush

down,

on the

stairs

and had since slipped

free.

Bobbie

gaze on Marianne and Solveig in order to focus

her thoughts. "All sister,"

I

wanted

to

do was keep my eyes on

Bobbie recalled

later.

"It

about the others." 94

was

my mother and my

survival.

I

couldn't care

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND

The pocket

pale bodies continued floating lazily in the enclosed air

don't

self,

A

broken driftwood. Please God, Bobbie prayed to her-

like

let

them touch me.

sudden cracking noise made Bobbie

jerk in the water, a

muffled, rending sound that vibrated the hull like a kettle drum.

Somewhere

An

animal.

on

a

man burned

to death,

awful acrid odor

like the smell of

mingled with the river

a stove

rot.

remembered the time she had been while her mother was left

had

downtown

left in

the two-flat. Uncle Olaf

like a

skinned

something burning

Bobbie's

mind

raced. She

charge of the family

cleaning offices. Bobbie had

on the stove too long that

the potatoes filled

howling

night,

and the stench

had come home from work

and had gotten so angry he had chased Bobbie through the

early

house with a broom.

A thing

realization suddenly jolted through

—

a

sledgehammer or an axe or a crow bar

Somebody was

the outer shell of the boat!

poor burning man. And they would

Oh

Bobbie Aanstad: some-

come

please,

if

—was

striking

trying to save that

they were trying to save him.,

maybe

for the Aanstads.

God,

please, please, please

make

the rescuers

come.

Tearing down the rutted macadam on bike, the misty

the

first

wind

his

ramshackle motor-

tossing his sandy hair, the Bowles

signs of upheaval.

He zoomed toward

bridge, about a mile northwest of the accident

soot-stained span reaching across the flurry of activity streets.

brown

both on the river and

Ohio

site, its

waters.

Street

massive,

He saw

the

along the adjacent city

Tugs and Coast Guard boats churned through the cur-

heading southward, engines grinding,

rents,

the

boy saw

men on

the docks

hollering, pointing, onlookers rushing eastward along the pedestrian

walks and side

lances

and

fire

gongs clanging

streets.

A

regiment of horse-drawn ambu-

trucks clamored toward the Clark Street Bridge, like

broken church 95

bells.

JAY

BONANSINGA

According to Bowles family

young

the

rider that

morning

history, very

few people noticed

as he lowered his

across the bridge like a missile. But one thing

is

head and shot

certain: he cut

an

imposing figure on that hurling motorbike. His

full

name was Charles

R. E. Bowles, but he went by the

G (as in reggae). The soft G would have been

nickname Reggie, pronounced with a hard pronunciation seemed apt, as though a

an affront to

this

young man's

with perpetually tousled

masculinity.

Wiry and compact,

he had a movie-star face: high

hair,

cheekbones, wide-set eyes, aquiline nose, and delicate, almost feminine

lips.

appearance

But a certain leathery aspect to Reggie Bowles's

—the way

suggested a boy

Born ical

in

his ears jutted,

who had

and the workman's tan

weathered tough times.

Chicago on April 29, 1897, Reggie showed a mechan-

He

aptitude from an early age.

liked to take things apart

and

put them back together. Growing up on the sparsely populated north

side, the eldest of five kids,

he proved a handful for his

overwhelmed parents. He continually got

into trouble,

and

rela-

tionships were exceedingly strained around the Bowles house.

This was not a happy home.

At a certain point, Reggie's mother gave up trying to pline her eldest son

regularly

—who had

—and sent him to

live

been running away from home with a couple of maiden aunts in

Uniontown, Pennsylvania, possibly ity

would rub

off

on the

outfits

in the

hope that

their gentil-

child.

The women doted on Lord Fauntleroy

disci-

the

young boy, dressing him

in Little

and parading him around town. These

women, both Daughters of the American Revolution, put on airs that their mysterious ward was a descendant of royalty. Before long the headstrong Reggie extricated himself from the ridiculous situation in

Uniontown and returned

He went back

to school but found

after the sixth grade.

to Chicago. it

stifling,

and dropped out

At age eleven he learned to swim. Appar-

96

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND ently he learned the lessons well, as he

neighborhood kids as

a

human

became known among the

tadpole.

He worked

a series of

menial jobs, his mechanical aptitude blossoming, and

when he

was fourteen he managed to build a couple of primitive aeroplanes in his parents' backyard. At the time, the aircraft was a

young American boy's fantasy

staple of a different.

He

joined aeroclubs, read

all

magazines, and conducted makeshift

life,

and Reggie was no

the journals, pulps,

test flights

with

and than

less

spectacular results.

During one experiment, he hitched a horse to sent

galloping

it

down

and

a plane

a nearby lane. His ersatz aircraft threat-

ened to take off for a moment, but then slammed into a fence, resulting in a sible brain

broken nose and fractured

leg for

Reggie (and pos-

damage). But the boy remained unfazed.

He

hated his

troubled home, and regularly dreamed of "flying out of there."

He

work on motors, electrical and left home in April 1914 to

started doing freelance repair

wiring, and acetylene welders,

work

full

time as a journeyman mechanic and electrician. But

the fires in Reggie's belly place.

He

made

it

hard for him to stay

fancied himself a risk-taker.

in

one

However much he saw

himself as a flying ace, a romantic figure of adventure stories, a

man

of action, he never dreamed he

would

see the kind of action

he was about to encounter on the Chicago River.

A

FEW MINUTES before

eight, the

the intersection of the north

Lake Michigan more than

waters boiled with

and south branches,

activity,

to the

from

mouth

of

a mile away. In addition to the other

steamships that had been preparing to launch Western Electric pic-

—the Roosevelt, the Petoskey, the Racine, and the Maywood— the Dunham Towing and Wrecking Com-

nickers that

pany had

morning

a virtual

armada of boats now responding with

fierce

purpose.

"Dunham's

tugs

Waukegan, Indiana, and Rita McDonald

97

BONANSINGA

JAY

"The

shortly responded," wrote Hilton.

city of

Chicago also

responded with the fireboat D.J. Swenie, the tug Chicago Harbor #4, and the police patrol vessel Carter H. Harrison, which

became the efforts.

The

city's central

authority for direction of the rescue

Erie Railroad's harbor tug Alice Stafford proved

of the most useful vessels

Company's Commerce Fire

.

.

.

one

[and] the Merchant's Lighterage

also assisted in the rescue."

departments mobilized with amazing speed, considering

the level of technology at their disposal. Horse-drawn patrol cars

and ambulance teams from

several different hospitals

made

the riverfront in record time. Firemen hurried to the axes, ropes, spike poles,

life

it

to

with

site

preservers, tarps, blankets, gurneys,

carbide lamps, and cutting torches. But regardless of

how

wide-

spread and responsive the rescue efforts became, the disaster had a

mind of

its

own. between seven-fifty and

In those horrible, critical minutes

and action from anyone within

eight-ten, every decision, gesture,

shouting distance of the accident

carried with

site,

it

the pro-

found weight of life-and-death consequences. Reggie Bowles seemed to understand

this

on

a primal level as

he sped across the Clark Street Bridge in a thunderhead of black

exhaust from the motorbike's failing engine, weaving along the edges of the crowd. Bystanders, too stunned even to notice him,

blocked his path. steered the bike

He wove between

knots of onlookers and

toward the southeast corner of the bridge.

he yanked the hand brake, the motorcycle went

Somehow

nearly slid out from under him.

When

into a skid

and

managed

the boy

to

hold on and not hurt anybody in his path.

The bike slammed and Reggie right ized

hand

into a brick rampart.

sat there for

something then. Something that

ment, he had forgotten to release

instant, staring

startled him. In

his grip

98

died,

down at his echoed around him. He real-

one frenzied

as the chorus of screams

The machine

on

the

all

the excite-

wrench he'd been

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND

working with;

it

was

still

clutched in his white-knuckled right

hand.

Over the roar of the crowd Reggie heard horrible banging noises like pistol shots.

He

had

the ground where

it

the ocean of hats.

Out on

ship teemed with victims

climbed off the bike, letting

stalled,

it fall

to

then craned his neck to see over

the river the massive spine of the fallen

and

rescuers.

It

looked

like a prehistoric

creature, a dead dinosaur covered with parasites. The river

around

seethed with bodies and objects.

it

Adrenaline spurted through the boy's innards. the wrench. Instead he tightened his grip

down

started

the steps, pushing his

on

it

He

didn't

drop

like a vice.

way through

He

the crush of

frantic bystanders.

"That's as far as ya go, son!"

A

beefy patrolman at the bottom of the steps blocked Reggie's

path: a giant,

immovable object dressed

trademark navy-

in the

blue woolen coat of the Chicago Police Department with brass buttons

"Lemme

and

its

huge

silver star the size of a crabapple.

through!" Reggie shoved at the big man, "I'm an

expert swimmer!"

"No

ya don't," the officer growled and shoved him back

hard enough to practically

lift

the skinny kid out of his boots.

Reggie stumbled into a group of men, and as anger coursed

through the young man's veins, he straightened up and fixed gaze on the

The cop had turned the

his

officer.

crowd along

his attentions elsewhere.

the edge of South

Water

He was

scanning

Street, squinting against

the drizzle.

"HEY!" Reggie lunged. The officer had no time to react. Reggie

swung

his

The

wrench.

tool

slammed hard

against the cop's big, blocky head

and regulation square-brimmed cap.

99

It

made

a dull

thwacking

BONANSINGA

JAY

on

noise, like a cricket bat

The cop sHpped on

ger sideways.

and made the

a sandbag,

officer stag-

the wet planks and

went

sprawling to the dock, nearly knocking over a couple of his fellow officers like so

many bowling

the jumble of confused cops,

pins.

Reggie slipped past

and vaulted

off the edge of the

dock, splashing into the cold water, the wrench

still

in his

hand.

Captain Pedersen stood on the prow of the Eastland, watching his

world unravel. The screams and splashing noises and whet-

stone sounds of axes striking metal gian's ears. In the

had struck

his

moments

filled

the

paunchy Norwe-

before the ship tipped over, Pedersen

head on the pilot house

and now

rail,

throbbed. But shame overrode any queasy feeling.

A

his skull

master of

steamships must never lose control. Through the smoke and mist he

now saw pandemonium

raging across the exposed starboard

hull of his beloved vessel.

Lying there on her side

in the

muddy

river,

a stretch of road congested with foot traffic.

the ship resembled

It

wasn't even eight

o'clock yet and already nearly a thousand well-dressed people

stood on her hull, some of them soaked and dazed, some of them crazy with panic,

Rescue workers

some of

lifted

the

them trying desperately

to help.

victims from the water and dragged

them

onto the side of the boat. Some picnickers dropped to their knees

and sobbed impotently their tiny

heads lolling

as

drenched children were fished out,

in death.

Pedersen watched.

He

tried to

He needed

to

maintain some semblance of order

do something,

cop kneeling on the

to react

hull a foot

eighteen-inch-wide porthole

traffic

in

cop reported

through [that porthole]

.

.

.

somehow. He saw

a traffic

away, lowering a rope through an a frantic

trapped and dying out of the death

The

in his brain.

attempt to help the

cells inside the ship.

later:

"We

pulled three

and an elderly

100

woman

women

dressed in

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND

beam under

black was clinging to a

was throwing sank back

in the water.

Her head sank beneath I

was

made

I

and

the water but

dragged her to the porthole but was

horrified to discover that the porthole I

as

the rope through the porthole she lost her grip

one hand seized the rope.

her exit.

same porthole. Just

the

was too small

to permit

three despairing attempts to extricate her but

it

useless."

The cop urged

the heavy-set

until a cutting device

the exhausted

woman

to hold

on to the beam

could be found to widen the porthole. But

woman, numb from

terror

and moaning,

finally let

go and sank into oblivion.

The captain gaped

at the turmoil, paralyzed

bushy mustache twitching,

his eyes stinging

ship needed to be breached.

could not

fit

Those

got one young

girl's

and

let

We

The

drizzle.

alive inside the

wreck

and

cries

vessel agonized the rescuers.

head and arms through a porthole,"

reported another policeman, "then through.

from the

through the tiny portholes. Muffled

pounding sounds from within the

"We

still

with emotion, his

managed

could not go further. Then

to get her shoulders

we put

a rope

around her

her back into the water. Babies could be seen in the hold

of the boat." Finally the police relented

and allowed welders onto the

Pedersen watched as the mechanics

—many

Oxweld Acetylene company, which happened nearby construction

site

and torches across the

—dragged

steel shell

of

them from

the

working

at a

to be

their gas tanks,

of his "Speed

hull.

masks, hoses,

Queen of

the Great

Masks snapped down. Flames spat and people jerked away as sparks leapt

Lakes." Knees hit the iron.

from the tapered nozzles

from the metal

surface.

Pedersen could no longer bear to watch.

The captain pushed

aside a few picnickers, then rushed across

who was just beginning to "Here HERE!" Pedersen yelled.

the wet hull to the closest welder,

touch

his

flame to the ship.

—

101

JAY

BONANSINGA

grabbing the man's arm, jostling the flame and sending sparks off into the

air.

''Stop that!"

The welder

up

flipped

mask, then looked up into the eyes

his

"Who

of the grizzled captain.

the hell might

you be?"

Pedersen identified himself and told him to cease and desist immediately.

"My "Not

orders are to save lives," the angry operator retorted.

to be careful of boats."

The mask went back down. Pedersen saw other sparks blooming in the mist across the length of the hull, and he heard the clang of the

fire

axes piercing

sledgehammers striking weak spots, and crowbars prying

steel,

at steel plates.

He saw

that they were about to cut into the coal

bunker. Anger tightened Pedersen's chest, or perhaps something

beyond

anger. Perhaps madness. Captain

about to

seal his

In front of

own

Harry Pedersen was

fate.

thousands of witnesses, he began to rage uncon-

trollably.

Picnickers stared, aghast at the captain's behavior as he stag-

gered across the slippery hull, moving from worker to worker,

ordering each to stop, claiming he was

crowd soon found without

its

own

the least feeling,"

Pedersen's tirade.

A

still

in charge.

But the

anger. "I could have killed that captain

mused one bystander who witnessed

group of firemen, when told to stop damag-

"He did "when we said to come

ing the boat, responded with a barrage of obscenities.

not take our dare," one fireman recalled,

near and try to stop us."

As quickly

as the Eastland

had gone down, the

emotions turned on the captain. Livid faces aimed him. all

Women

his fault.

shook

their fists

"Drown him!"

fists.

a

woman

their

shrieked.

102

raw

wrath

and swore and sobbed that

Fear transformed to rage. Anguished

him with clenched

tide of

it

at

was

men came

at

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND Pedersen began to back

had made him act

injury

off, stricken

mute.

Maybe

the head

irrationally. In post-disaster hearings,

Pedersen repeatedly mentioned the throbbing pain in his skull as a reason for his less-than-exemplary behavior.

Whatever the cause, he had crossed

A MAN

IN

UNIFORM observed the commotion on the ship from the

edge of the dock. At full

first,

he kept his distance

directing the rescue efforts

a tense

a dangerous Rubicon.

—he had

his

hands

—and he simply lingered there for

moment, looking on with

fleeting interest.

A

sturdy,

barrel-chested fellow^, he w^ore the standard blue v^oolen frock

coat of the police department, albeit w^ith a few^ more stripes and bullion than the subordinates. as thick as a paintbrush

He

sported a handlebar mustache

and was so stocky and robust

in his

bearing as to appear to lack a neck. Standing there, he looked like a hirsute bull, eyes blazing.

Acting Police Chief

Herman

Schuettler

saw anarchy breaking

out across the hull of the overturned ship, and Schuettler loathed anarchy. In his youth he had beaten back the anarchists at

market Square, and

later

had made a name

for himself in the

Chicago Police Department as the architect of the undercover

unit.

Hay-

city's first

But Schuettler's cunning was matched only by

his vigor.

Brought up on the bare-knuckle tler

got himself arrested

streets of the Levee, Schuet-

when he was only

seventeen for fighting

with a teamster, and throughout his meteoric

rise in the

depart-

ment, he continued to hone his toughness. About Schuettler a local historian

once wrote: "Clubs, bricks, and stones were

common weapons them

as he

of offense, and Schuettler

was with

his knuckles."

was

as adept with

But the Eastland disaster

truly tested the man's mettle.

Watching the furious picnickers surround Pedersen, Chief Schuettler

made

a

snap decision.

103

He would

sort out the details

JAY

later.

BONANSINGA

People were dying, and this grizzled old steamship captain

was, rightly or wrongly, about to be lynched. Schuettler whistled at the closest tugboat

which only moments offer assistance. pier,

The

had arrived

earlier

tug's stern

hovered

—the/. W. Taylor—

milling rescuers

like a

to

from the

five or six feet

and Scheuttler made the leap across the gap

Angus, landing on the deck with

bow

at the Eastland's

charging

thump. He hurried past

a

and climbed onto the Eastland's prow. By that

point the enraged picnickers surrounded Pedersen, and Scheuttler

had to push

his

way through throngs

record of their brief conversation exists, but the gist of

up

in several

No

to get to the captain. it

turned

news accounts.

"Excuse me,

sir!" Schuettler said in a

firm voice as he grasped

Pedersen's arm.

"Let go, damnit!" Pedersen tried to pull away. "I'm running this

show!"

"Not anymore." "What.^"

The

chief locked his gaze

you under

arrest,

"You're

sir, if

on Pedersen. "Gonna have

to place

you please."

what— ?!"

Schuettler lowered his voice.

Captain. Your

first

mate, too.

"It's for

Now

your

come

own

protection.

along. Before some-

thing unfortunate happens."

The angry crowd made room across the in a

bow toward

mishmash of

tain a murderer,

the

eastern

waved

/.

as Schuettler ushered Pedersen

W. Taylor. People shouted obscenities

European

their fists

dialects.

They

called the cap-

and gave him the

evil eye.

One

welder, at a certain point, told the captain where he could go. "I told

him

flame," recalled

to J.

go to

a place that

H. Kista.

104

is

hotter than any torch

CHAPTER TEN

In the Grasp of Death

Reggie Bowles burst to the surface of the gasping

air,

chilled, greasy river,

paddling with one arm, holding onto a young

girl

with the other.

Many

sensations engulfed the wiry eighteen-year-old dare-

devil all at once: the

arhythmic metallic drumming of the

gongs; the dissonant

symphony

fire

of screams from the adjacent

bridges where helpless multitudes looked on; the cool, wet air Reggie's face, blowing the stench of coal his sinuses;

and a disconcerting, coppery

smoke and

fish-rot

on up

taste of adrenaline in his

mouth. In his peripheral vision, Reggie

saw myriad

objects bobbing,

dipping, and lurching. Overturned lifeboats, broken folding chairs,

unoccupied

life

preservers,

and rowboats

filled

with survivors

middle distance, registering

in the

boy's brain in flashes

and hazy shapes, the massive rescue

vessels

and steamships vied

for position in the chaotic currents being

dotted the

stirred

river.

Also

in the

up by conflicting wakes. The Graeme Stewart^ and

lifeboats

from the Roosevelt^

edged their

way toward

like great,

those

who

still

slow-moving leviathans, thrashed on the surface.

Scores of survivors continued to struggle in the water, but their

105

BONANSINGA

JAY

number was dwindling. Far fewer heads bobbed in the currents than when Reggie had first plunged into the river only minutes earlier.

Reggie

summoned

strength, then started

all his

the north side of the dock,

where he could

swimming

see rescue

for

teams gath-

ered in front of a large brick building, beginning to treat victims.

The Reid-Murdoch building played

a key role in the Eastland

drama. One of the most prominent firms Reid,

Murdoch

one of the

&c

Company,

largest structures

windows, and

conies,

in the

immediate area,

a grocery wholesaler,

on the

large service

With

riverfront.

doorways,

worked out of

it

its

offered

many

bal-

numerous

unobstructed views of the disaster, as well as receiving areas for victims.

The Reid, Murdoch workforce happened

that day

on

their

own company

picnic, leaving a "large,

building virtually empty," as Hilton puts

away modern

to be

"immediately across

it,

the river from the wreck."

moved through

Paddling and kicking vigorously, Reggie

water despite the young

cries.

He

set his sights

shrieks of horror

all

heavy, sodden dress, her involun-

girl's

tary wriggling in his arms,

and her

on the

down his own emotions, many times in the past.

It

"He was

David.

was

though he were shut-

fear," recalled his

"He has

ing of physical fear," Reggie's mother

town newspaper. "He learned like a

as

grandson,

pugnacious kid." Other family

a real tough,

this impression.

took to the sport

attempts at garbled

cutting off his fear, as he had done

"Reggie had no relationship to

members shared

pitiful

pier in front of him, ignoring the

around him.

ting

the

to

never

Emma

swim

at

known

the

mean-

once told a Union-

1 1

duck to water; within

years of age and a year he

had

res-

cued two companions from drowning, and a year ago he rescued a

baby from a burning building." At

last

gasping

the boy reached the dock and with great effort lifted the

girl

up

to a nurse

and doctor,

106

who were

diligently pro-

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND cessing the victims. All

vivors out of the river

around the area rescuers kept

fishing sur-

and laying them out on the dock

as quickly

moment,

as possible for treatment. Reggie treaded v^^ater for a

watching a local doctor practice a primitive version of

Thomas the

first

triage.

A. Carter of the Chicago Health Department, one of

physicians

on the

As head ambulance

scene, treated

many

at that early stage.

surgeon for the police department. Carter

was

the city's foremost expert in emergency medical procedures.

But

this

event had already progressed far beyond the scope of

everyday carriage accidents, factory mishaps, or beach drown-

The sheer numbers overwhelmed

ings.

In that first hour, literally hundreds all

manner of

distress.

state of concentration,

the doctor.

emerged from the

river in

Carter went into a sort of hyper-focused

moving from body

to body, kneeling by

each unconscious victim, injecting strychnine into the worst of them. The strychnine acted as a powerful stimulant, as well as a crude antibacterial to fend off the ravages of the pollution. Carter

would

feel

each neck for a pulse.

If

a victim indicated

no

heart-

beat, Carter called out to the attending nurses, raising his voice

enough to be heard above the

just

If

a person

showed

signs of

din:

life,

"Gone."

the doctor called for a lung

motor. Patented by The Life Saving Devices Company, a local firm, these a

mask

machines resembled a large brass bicycle

affixed to one end of the dual hoses.

pump

with

The mask was

down on the victim's air passages and the practitioner vigorously pumped air into the victim's lungs. Once heard, the pressed

noise of the lung

motor

in action

wheezing sound that vibrated the

was skull

unforgettable, a

and

set teeth

on edge.

For a single instant, Reggie Bowles saw Carter apply device to the waterlogged

girl

macabre

he'd rescued. In that brief

this

very

moment,

as he treaded water and watched the medical team minister to the

dying, Reggie Bowles pushed his terror further and further into

some dark place

inside himself.

107

down

BONANSINGA

JAY

He

whirled about

then started

in the water,

swimming back

into the vortex.

In press

coverage following the

disaster, in articles

published

Chicago Daily Tribune and the Fort Dodge Daily Chronicle^

in the

waxing

reporters dragged out their hoariest cliches,

poetically

about Reggie Bowles's heroic deeds. They christened him "The

Human

Frog" and called him a hero. This attention seemed to

have a strangely formative positive.

But

awful

in that

on the young man, not

effect

all

of

it

hour following the Eastland's

first

plunge, no one had time to think about such things as bravery or

heroism.

To

Reggie's

left,

and twenty-five

feet

at the south steps of the

away from

Clark Street bridge

the fallen bow,

more physicians

had arrived with more lung motors. "A score of machines clanked at the

same time,"

words

a

rattling,

a reporter later recalled, attempting to put into

sound that was

virtually indescribable

—

a desperate,

breathy chorus of puffing noises mingling with the

yelling.

A

Red Cross

local

with grappling hooks detritus. Dr.

physician, Dr.

W. A. Evans,

M.

K.

Little,

watched men

bodies from the river like so

fish

the health reporter for the Daily Tri-

bune^ managed to get to the scene early and pitched theless, the influx of

drowned and suffocated

them women and children clad heads hanging loosely, took cles

its toll

men wept

as the bodies of

babies

clutching their

still

catastrophe

in

so

in.

picnickers,

Never-

many

on the

rescuers.

"The

specta-

New

York Times. "Police-

women were

taken out with their

bosoms

in the

many female

grasp of death."

victims defined the Eastland

Women

unexpected ways.

had formed the back-

bone of the Hawthorne works. "Much of the women's work Western

of

saturated finery, their

in their

were harrowing," reported the

The presence of

much

Electric! differed little

|at

from the traditional women's

08

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND

work

in the

Adams and

household," wrote historians Stephen

Orville Butler, "particularly the

more

repetitive tasks such as the

winding, braiding, and sewing of wire." But 1915 was also a time of suffrage and changing attitudes. Illinois tric

had won the

right to vote,

had marched proudly

in the

A

year

earlier,

women

in

and the

ladies of

Western Elec-

parade

at their

annual picnic

with suffragette slogans across their bodices. Throughout the Eastland

behavior of the

disaster, the

women

reflected a society

in transition.

"In the crisis declared. "While

and

men

the

girls, after

women were

the

stronger,"

fought madly for their

the

lives,

the

Tribune

women

panic, quickly recovered. Either they

first

clung patiently to rafts and

bits of

wreckage,

or, if

the hull, they waited calmly for rescue or death."

they were lucky enough to be rescued?

trapped

And what

in if

The Tribune observed

admiringly: "Their thoughts, for the most part, were of those

not so fortunate." "I did

not lose

to a reporter. "I

my

saw

and myself gave him

head

lift

Mrs. John Schlemmer recalled

man was

a fat a

at all,"

sinking and another

woman

out of the water." Mrs. Schlemmer was

badly injured, her head gashed and bleeding, but she refused treatment until she had

made

a frantic search of the hull for her

husband. "I

saw

a

mother floating about with

a

server," reported another picnicker. "I never

tented as that baby was.

baby on

a

life

saw anyone so con-

Only the mother's dark head was

above the water [beside

pre-

visible

She did not struggle; she just

it].

depended upon the corks [preservers] to rescue them both." Even

in the

midst of so

much

concerned with their children's

One

death, the

lives

unfortunate young lady

collapsed into unconsciousness.

than their own.

made

utes after the capsizing, her slender

it

to the

dock only min-

form cold and drenched. She

The doctor

109

women seemed more

tried in vain to revive

JAY

her. Finally the

policemen stoically

covered

stretcher,

BONANSINGA

it

in a blanket,

At the top of the

Street steps.

laid her lifeless

and started toward the Clark

stairs,

horse-drawn patrol cars awaited

form on a

rows of ambulances and

fatalities.

But as the officers trudged across the dock, a voice rang out

behind them.

"I

saw

the

woman's arm move!

She's alive! She's

alive!"

The cops

on the planks and knelt down

laid the stretcher

They pulled the blanket down, and

take a look.

the

to

woman's

eyelids miraculously fluttered.

"My

God, boys!" one of the

They tenderly less

officers cried out.

"She

is

alive!"

raised her to a sitting position, her face blood-

and dazed as she

"What happened? Where

tried to speak.

aml.^"

A crowd

gathered around

"Madam,

her.

you're alive, you are," said the cop, wiping his

moist eyes as the onlookers cheered. Several began to weep. "You're one of the first that's

first,"

the cop informed the

girl,

"one of the

been brought up that was not beyond help."

The woman suddenly jerked with

a terrible realization:

—my baby. My husband. Oh where do you suppose they You don't suppose they were — "Madam, please — no

"Oh, are?!

?!"

babyV The woman yanked herself free and staggered back toward the water. The sad-faced officer held her back, but the tiny woman was inconsolable. "He had the baby! He

"He had

the

had the baby!

Oh why

didn't

I

take the baby instead of carrying

the basket?!"

woman struggled to Finally, the woman extri-

For several agonizing minutes, the young escape the burly arms of the policeman.

cated herself and ran back to the boat as a small body was being

rooted out of a porthole. In a hellish, private a worst-case scenario for

any parent

110

moment

of horror

—the woman grabbed the

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND infant

and

realized at once that the child

Holding the dead baby

in

"She had her baby at

was

hers,

and was gone.

her arms, the mother swooned.

from the

last," a reporter

New

York

Times sadly mused.

Other women, facing certain death, quickly and decisively

made heartrending

"My

husband and

my

caught hold of

son, Harry,

them and kept myself up

husband disappeared. with to

and the children

I

heap," recalled a grieving

in a

to

choices.

my left.

let

I

I

in

woman. and

my

"I

all fell

am

a

little girl,

some way.

held Harry with

seemed to

...

lose all strength

I

into the water

good swimmer.

I

Helen, and clung

don't

know how.

My

my right arm and Helen in my left arm, and I had

go of Helen."

The woman saved her son but

lost

both her daughter and

husband.

Another female victim managed to get her baby on deck chair but found the water too strong to save

a floating

herself.

She

gave the chair a shove. "As the child floated away on the impro-

mother smiled and

vised raft," wrote the Daily Tribune, "the

threw a

Male

kiss at

it.

Then she sank."

passengers, in

many

cases, did not

conduct themselves

much valor. According to many eyewitnesses, some men shoved

with nearly as

weaker

women

in

order to

flee the

aside

death ship. Even children

were trampled by hysterical male passengers. In the aftermath, story after story

surfaced of

remained calm, and even

men

panicking while

after being rescued,

many

women

of these gen-

tlemen stood stunned and helpless at the docks, unable to offer the

most minimal

assistance.

"Women and

children

bitter

crew member.

"I

first?

Not on your

saw men

where they were clinging to

rails

tear

life!"

women and

above the water

111

exclaimed a girls

from

in order to get

JAY

BONANSINGA

to positions of temporary safety. There

The stronger dragged down

was nothing hke

weaker

the

girls

from the shore

jumped

in to

was making to pull I

couldn't

water as

I

remembered

piling,"

grab them. Some for them, too.

them

The

out.

fat

swim with fought.

men and

the

and women."

saw two women come bobbing up

"I

and

into the water

usurped their places, and usually the stronger were

weaker were

chivalry.

He

man,

a riverfront worker. his face green

got hold of the

I

man

the

fat

to the surface not far

held onto the

whole load.

wouldn't

let

go."

I

with terror

women and

women's

"I

started

and

dresses,

yelled at him, treading

One

of these

two women

eventually drowned, as did the fat man. "All three of

veled

later, "if

them might have been saved," the worker mar-

that fella hadn't been scared into a frenzy."

Again and again Olaf Ness proved an exception

among males. He broke through

to the

rampant

panic

the surface of the water inside the prison

of the Eastland, his square,

handsome head drenched with

river-

slime as he gasped for breath, his eyes burning with urgency.

desperately treaded water, his right

arm locked under

of another partially conscious middle-aged the

shadows

for a place to deposit the

The overturned

ship, filled with

scene of rending noises

—

He

the armpits

woman. Ness scanned

poor

soul.

ammonia-laced

air,

was

the

the crack of timbers splitting, rivets

popping, and metal shuddering. The ship seemed to be coming apart.

Solveig

The Aanstad women still

water six

silently

watched, Marianne and

clinging to that angular wreckage sticking out of the

feet

away, while Bobbie perched herself on a

server twelve feet

beyond

that, her slender legs dangling

life

pre-

down

in

the dark, viscous water.

Olaf had located the errant

and had gotten Bobbie on

it

life

preserver only minutes earlier

before the thirteen-year-old suc-

112

I

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND

cumbed

Now

to exhaustion.

Bobbie straddled the thing, holding

onto the wall for balance. She could see very

shadowy

length of the

cell,

little

across the

her eyes stinging from the stench. She

kept her gaze fixed on Olaf, her mother, and her

sister.

Throughout that narrow chamber, victims floated

maca-

like

bre icebergs, only the backs of heads and shoulders showing, a corona of hair floating gracefully like delicate sea

around the

Hats and stray shoes and

closest female corpse.

broken chairs bobbed here and

there.

Olaf attempted to pull the semiconscious tangle of wreckage

jerk.

woman toward

on which Marianne and Solveig

few moments the wreckage shifted

and Solveig

anemones

slightly,

rested.

the

Every

making Marianne

As the big Norwegian man wrestled with the

twitching dowager in his arms, the wreckage shuddered suddenly.

"Olaf!— OLAF!" Bobbie screamed.

A

terrible swishing noise

wreckage gave way. to react.

It

"MOM IS FALLING!"

swallowed Bobbie's cry

as the

happened so quickly that nobody had time

The jumble of wood and

Marianne and Solveig went with

iron slid under the surface, it,

the younger

girl's

and

piercing

squeal swallowed by the cold, black water. Olaf acted instinctively, letting

go of the matron and diving toward

his sister.

Bobbie watched, awestricken, perched on her battered cork ring.

For one terrible instant, the rest of her family vanished

under the water. Silence squeezed the chamber. Then Olaf burst to the surface with

but

alive.

tion. tially

Marianne and Solveig both coughing

fitfully

Olaf managed to get them back to their original posi-

The wreckage had

shifted

under the water but was

still

par-

connected to the boat; Marianne steadied herself on a

jutting rail.

Behind Olaf, the gasping, unfortunate matron sank from view. Bobbie for a

watched

as the air bubbles gathered

on the surface

A

searing agony

moment, then popped out of

twisted inside Bobbie. She turned

113

existence.

away and

tried to will the

BONANSINGA

JAY

repulsion and terror out of her brain by thinking pleasant

down

thoughts. She remembered Ernie Carlson, that cute boy the street

who had

taught her

how

to tread water.

Tears welled in Bobbie's eyes as the arc of her short

many ways

a strange sort of rehearsal for this

life,

in

waking nightmare,

flashed through her brain.

Born on July 28, 1901,

in

Trondheim, Norway, Bobbie had

When

experienced severe respiratory problems as a young child. she

was two years

packed

old, her father

a

few giant trunks and

launched the family on the arduous passage to America, even

though the Norwegian doctors, skeptical that survive the journey,

Bobbie could

little

had strongly advised him against

weeks, Bobbie and her parents huddled

in a dark,

it.

For two

moldering

steer-

age compartment of a giant ship "like animals." Along the way, Bobbie's bronchitis worsened, but Marianne refused to

wrapping the

child

succumb

kets,

and each day taking the child above-decks to breathe the

air.

Thanks

to the illness,

to find work.

year,

He had

Akim Aanstad had come

they

first

They

arrived in Chicago.

The winter of 1911 brought with case of diphtheria.

over to the States

where the family landed

that's

lived in a

Diversey Avenue, and everything had been fine

The house had

found herself huddling

in a

it

—

little

house on

for a while.

young Bobbie's near

to be quarantined,

underwent regular cleansings with girl

salt

secured a job in Logan Square as a tailor

Hart Schaffner and Marx, and

when

ailing toddler in blan-

to Marianne, Bobbie survived.

The previous for

her

let

and Bobbie

disinfectant. Again, the

dark chamber not

fatal

much

little

better

than the mildewed steerage of the ship on which she had emigrated, alone in her

little

sickroom, the windows shrouded by

blankets.

Because of the quarantine at home,

Akim

decided to sleep at

work. For weeks on end, the overworked father

114

slept

on the

cut-

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND ting tables at

Hart Schaffner and Marx, shivering

sewing rooms,

v/hile his

in

unheated

daughter fought to survive at home.

developed a cold, which worsened,

until

pneumonia

Akim

died shortly thereafter, aged thirty-three. Marianne Aanstad,

had already borne a second daughter, Solveig, became mother

in a

hardscrabble

had no income. As

She spoke very

city.

a result,

when Bobbie

quickly. She bore the brunt of the little sister

Even

—landing a job

to help out

English,

at

woman

Western Electric for

—Bobbie held the family

and

housework, and cared for her in various

Uncle Olaf had arrived from

after

a single

recovered, she grew up

while Marianne worked as a cleaning

office buildings.

week

little

He who

set in.

Norway

fifteen dollars a

together.

Such hardships strengthened the young

girl's

resolve.

By the

time she reached adolescence, she was amazingly self-possessed.

Photographs show the eyes.

joie

de vivre on her face, the light in her

Although very few records

exist of her interactions

with

her family during their ordeal inside the Eastland that morning, it is

highly likely that Bobbie shared her courage with her mother,

sister,

and uncle that day, surviving

at all costs.

The trouble was, nobody had any would eventually

how

high those costs

rise.

The Eastland's exposed and dazed survivors, the

hull

swarmed with

latter trying to help

getting in the way. Sparks sites.

idea

firemen, welders,

but more likely just

from arc flames shot up

Ropes buUwhipped across the Eastland's

plunging

down

at

dozens of

steel surface,

portholes and open gangways. Struggling against

the effects of the intermittent drizzle, crews of firemen threw giant tarps across parts of the slippery hull in order to provide traction, while other

exposed areas were strewn with ashes from

the fire boxes of adjacent tugs for the

turned the ash to a gray, mottled gunk.

115

same purpose. The mist

JAY

The

BONANSINGA

rescuers realized that time

was running

out.

The window

of opportunity to save anyone cHnging to Hfe inside the fallen

was

ship

rapidly closing.

wrapped

Stricken survivors off the side of the ship,

two

in city-issued

blankets trudged

abreast, like zombies, onto adjacent

tugs and fireboats positioned around the Eastland. their footsteps in the ash likely that

The crunch of

and cinders made rhythmic

Bobbie Aanstad heard

all this

commotion

tattoos.

It is

vibrating the

dark entrails of the hold.

Along the south dock, between LaSalle and Clark, firemen and volunteer workers

laid

down

makeshift bridges

hewn from

metal pontoons and planking in order to connect the Eastland's starboard hull to the

pier,

making access

easier for the rescue

workers. While water churned and voices penetrated the steam

and smoke, doctors, nurses, reporters, police photographers, coast guard officials, shipping

company

personnel, teamsters,

stevedores, commission house workers, tug boat

crewmen, and

clergymen arrived from neighboring areas and tramped across the creaking,

yawning makeshift bridges and onto the crowded

hull to help in

any way possible. But deaths outpaced the recov-

eries tenfold in

what the Tribune would

later refer to as "a

wholesale slaughter of innocents."

Nearby Clinic at

hospitals such as Henrotin

Wabash and

Franklin dispatched teams and equipment.

O'Connor, the director of the

John

J.

ately

began planning

cian,

Thomas

and the Eye and Ear

relief efforts.

The

local

Red Cross, immedi-

city coroner's

head physi-

Springer, arrived at the scene shortly after eight

and established

a position near the Clark Street steps.

Springer's grim task to quickly

examine

fatalities in

It

was

order to

determine the cause of death. As each pathetic bundle arrived

by tug or across a bridge, and was

laid at Springer's feet, the

doctor knelt and quickly pinched the victim's neck. Suffocation

was

the verdict in

most

cases, either

116

from drowning or from the

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND crush inside the death boat. Then began a somber process that

would

define the rest of the day.

Coroners tagged victims'

toes, then sent the bodies to be

taken to temporary morgues. The compHcated process of

began

fication

Springer ever he

in earnest. Since there

knew

it

was able

would be

difficult.

identi-

was no passenger manifest, But he also rejoiced when-

to revive a person thought to be dead.

A

sort of

jury-rigged "bucket brigade" of stretcher bearers formed along the river to rush those clinging to Ironically, the closest rial

life

to the nearest hospital.

major medical

facility,

Iroquois

Memo-

Street, where many of the injured were taken, name from another famous disaster. On December

on Market

had gotten

its

30, 1903, a few blocks south of the river, a fire broke out backstage at the elegant Iroquois Theatre during a gala production of

Mr. Bluebeard, a popular musical comedy. In a panic, the audience stampeded the exits and found them locked. In half an hour, nearly

600 people

lost their lives.

less

than

For years the

tragedy had stood as Chicago's worst disaster in terms of death toll

.

.

.

until the

By eight-fifteen horror.

A

morning of July 24, 1915. the faces of onlookers began to reflect a deeper

huge percentage of the 2,500-plus passengers had

simply vanished, either swallowed by the river or trapped in the

unseen tomb of the ship.

"As a consequence of the abruptness of the capsizing, there were few examples of laborious or prolonged escapes," Hilton writes.

And even

in those rare instances of

the survivors usually turned out to be

knew what

to

do on

adventurous escapes,

crewmembers. "Sailors

a capsizing ship," Hilton explains, "the pas-

sengers, typically, did not."

Tens of thousands of onlookers pushed forward on LaSalle Street, fighting the police in

the Clark Street Bridge.

order to see, straining the limits of

"The bridges creaked uneasily under the

117

JAY

BONANSINGA

weight," witnessed one reporter, "in spite of the desperate efforts

who

of the cordon of black-rubbered poHcemen,

Moving!'

until they

strain to the

were hoarse

weakened

authority of the

in a frantic

shouted, 'Keep

attempt to adjust the

girders. Clubs, threats,

and the combined

mounted squad had absolutely no

horde of stunned humanity that clung to the guard limpets and peered

On

down from

rails like

every vantage point."

the river, time ran out for many.

Exhausted stragglers bobbed and thrashed one before going under. tic,

on the

effect

Some bystanders

last-ditch attempts to save the

final

time

leapt into the river in fran-

weak and

dying.

A young

watchman on the Petoskey, Peter Boyle, dived into the breach and was not seen alive again. Even an unemployed man who was down by the river that morning, contemplating suicide, suddenly

felt

compelled to join the

Times, this "gloomy"

fray.

man ended up

According to the

New

York

saving nine people, until he

had to be dragged out himself, near dead from exhaustion.

The chaos was insurmountable. There were simply too many victims flailing servers,

and clawing

at the crates

and timbers and

life

pre-

and too many disorganized rescue attempts occurring

once. Workers tossed nets downstream into the channel

at

to catch

victims stolen by the current. Desperate patrols paddled back and forth in rowboats

and dinghies, grasping

at

anything that moved.

By the time the giant clock-hands on the Reid-Murdoch tower reached eight-twenty, a staggering number of

fatalities

mulated, and a sort of mass dread had settled

Amid the pandemonium on land, a cession. let

them pass without

a

over the scene.

the starboard side of the fallen East-

group of black-clad men appeared

They came from the

in

had accu-

in

almost ghostly pro-

steps near LaSalle Street.

word. These men

in

The

police

dark frockcoats

moved

with a somber urgency as they negotiated the pontoon

bridge,

and then staggered across the slimy

118

hull of the

wreck,

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND clutching their rosaries and vials and bibles. Father

mons from Holy Name was

Fitzsim-

Cathedral, the administrator of the arch-

diocese, led the group. Father

parish

P. J.

Thomas

Kelly from Precious Blood

there too, along with Fathers O'Hearn, Wolff,

Dunne,

Mullaley, and O'Callaghan.

The

priests

gave each other

the throngs of victims.

and with the aid of

silent

nods and spread out among

O'Hearn found an opening

a fireman leaned

down

in the hull,

into the darkness.

Witnesses later reported at least a dozen different strangled voices offering whispered confessions. Fathers Wolff

on

and Dunne stood

either side of the procession of victims being hauled away,

anointing foreheads with dabs of holy water and uttering ancient

words under

their breath, barely audible

my heart and soul. assist me in my last agony, may I breathe forth my soul in

Jesus, Mary, Joseph, I give Jesus, Mary, Joseph,

Jesus, Mary, Joseph,

above the uproar:

you

peace with you.

From

O

a sudden

and unprepared

Lord.

119

death, deliver us,

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Too Harrowing for

The cold,

Any Viewer

foul-smelling water pounces on a

like a predator, slashing at the face,

The throat body

closes (a process

seizes up.

known

drowning victim

flooding the nasal passages. as "laryngospasm")

and the

Sounds and sensations become muffled, blurred.

Weight displacement begins, and the victim eventually

slips

beneath the surface.

The oxygen-starved brain begins

hallucinating in the dark,

and involuntary struggling and thrashing only make matters worse. The body sinks further into darkness and oblivion. Death is

imminent.

Without oxygen,

a person

becomes

"clinically

dead" within

four minutes. However, the brain can survive well past this deadline.

At

least

up to

six

minutes beyond

it,

and

to ten. After ten minutes without oxygen, brain certain, but there are exceptions.

Cold water,

in

many

damage

cases is

up

almost

for instance, has a

major impact on the process.

A body

condition

known

as

"hypothermia," or a

loss of inner-core

heat, often precedes death by cold-water drowning. This

120

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND

When

process has hidden benefits. that

is

the face

than 71 degrees Fahrenheit

less

Chicago River

—the so-called

brain. For this reason

submerged

— such

in

water

as that of the

"diving reflex" slow^s the body's

processes so that oxygen-bearing blood

and the

is

many

is

diverted to the heart

of the Eastland victims were

completely revived, without brain damage, as long as 45 minutes after the initial

A

plunge into the water.

TERRIBLE SORT of assembly line had begun on the Eastland's

ash-strewn

hull.

Firemen pulled limp bodies through holes

in the

ship while doctors offered a frenzied sort of triage, sending each its

appropriate station. Policemen became stretcher-

first

bodies were taken by tugs to the S.S. Theodore

victim to bearers.

The

moments following Springer saw the need for

Roosevelt, which had been evacuated in the the capsizing.

Almost immediately

Dr.

morgue space and designated the basement of the Reid-Murdoch building to serve this function. Most DOA's were additional

tagged

as

death-by-asphyxiation,

quickly.

By

eight o'clock a

dozen victims lay strewn across the

floor of that grocer's dark,

scores of

them

damp

lined the planks.

made documentation and

and bodies accumulated

cellar. Fifteen

The

sheer

minutes

volume of

later,

fatalities

identification tremendously difficult.

Confusion gripped the scene. More than one death

certificate

arrived prematurely.

Hypothermic individuals can often appear dead. They turn blue, are cold to the touch,

also exhibit

many

and appear not to be breathing. They

other death-like

pupils, lack of pulse, uncontrolled

symptoms such

erection, lividity, even false rigor mortis. In the as

many

as dilated

bowels or urination, penile

mad

rush to save

passengers as possible, coroners' assistants misidenti-

fied several of the living as corpses.

The psychological

toll

began to

121

set in

among

rescue workers,

JAY

BONANSINGA

especially the police. Notwithstanding their alleged bungling of

crowd control and rescue response, policemen were forced serve multiple functions,

from morgue attendant

to

to medical

Within 45 minutes of the capsizing, they showed signs of

orderly.

mental exhaustion. "Policemen's hands began to swell as they handled scores

and hundreds of the victims of some awful criminal negligence," reported the Daily Tribune. "They worked like automatons,

however, mindful that someone's precious

maw

removed from the At

lifeless

was being

clay

of this death orgy."

his chaotic, bustling

command

post near the Clark Street

gave orders for a second temporary morgue to

steps. Dr. Springer

be established on the water. Within minutes, workers from the

county coroner's erecting tents

on a

floating barge

Ghostly white canvas flapped battlefield

The

tragic brigade of

dead bodies

Somebody had

greatly.

It

a

was now

shifted. Police started haul-

tell

the world

to spread the

news of

what was happening this

grave event.

went out almost immediately over every

medium. Wire country.

wet breezes, resembling

toward the floating morgue, and the crowds

looked on. Somebody had to

Bulletins

in the

side of the river.

eight-thirty.

ing the deceased

here.

on the north

hospice from the previous century.

approaching

and began

office hurriedly gathered materials

services telegraphed the

Facts were

Many

In July 1915,

to bureaus across the

scrambled. Death-toll estimates varied

early accounts

of these calls were

news

available

went out

made by newspaper

via telephones,

and many

reporters.

Chicago had twenty-one newspapers. In addition

—the Daily Tribune, the Herald & Examiner, boasted and the Whip —the the Daily News, the Evening

to the major dailies

Post,

city

publications geared specifically for African-Americans, Bohemians, Italians,

Swedes, Poles, labor, and the bigger metropolitan com-

122

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND munities such as

Hyde Park and Calumet. Each and

some

these organizations covered the Eastland disaster in

Both the Chicago Evening Post and the Daily

much

with a platoon of photographers; survives today

is

more

resources, or responded

power

in

1847

in

more

single organization

quickly, or covered the

Chicago Daily Tribune. 400, the Tribune rose

w^ith a circulation of

tandem with Chicago

no

itself,

alongside the great

Butcher for the World. In 1860, the paper, led by chief,

arrived early

draw^n from this coverage. Bureau chiefs from

disaster in greater depth than the

Begun

News

fashion.

of the visual record that

out-of-tow^n papers rushed to the scene. But invested

every one of

Joseph Medill, virtually engineered

its

in

Hog

charismatic

Abraham

Lincoln's

ascendancy to the White House. The Tribune became the "Voice of the Union," and prompted Medill to quip:

swear at

it,

established

but swear by its

own

it

notwithstanding." The newspaper

paper mill and became the

zation to establish a wire service. printing presses at

By 1915

its

Madison and Dearborn

half-million copies per day.

"A good many

first

giant steam-powered

Streets

Most important,

news organi-

churned out a

the paper excelled at

covering calamities of the scope of the Eastland disaster.

On

the

morning of July 24, 1915, the managing editor was

portly, kind-hearted

for his gentle nature

man named Edward

a

"Scotty" Beck. Admired

and even temper. Beck had made

a

name

for

himself covering the Iroquois Theatre disaster twelve years earlier as city editor.

Beck

When

the

news of the Eastland capsizing reached

at his breakfast table, he instantly

sprang into action, mar-

shalling his considerable news-gathering staff

The

paper's staff set

up extra phones

and resources.

at the paper's

head-

quarters, as well as extra shifts of operators. Every available

employee came to work that day to

assist in giving

out informa-

Down at the docks. Beck convinced a owner, J. C. Oram of Oram Printing, to hand

tion to panicked citizens. riverfront business

over his building to the squad of Tribune reporters already at

123

JAY

Next door

the scene.

to

BONANSINGA

Oram,

the travel agent for the Chicago

and South Haven Steamship Company ceded to facihtate transmissions of the latest

By

eight-thirty, Beck's

trunk phone Unes

his

news from

local hospitals.

people arrived at the side of the fallen

steamship, installing phone lines so that a direct connection could

made between the paper's headquarters and the site of the wreck. The city's telephone and telegraph lines were taxed to capacity as word began to spread with brushfire speed. "The load be

of wire work," reported one witness later in the day,

employees

[of

"was

said by

Western Union] to be as great as that resulting

from the Ohio floods."

A

motion picture crew arrived

at the scene

and began photo-

graphing the most heartbreaking, stomach-churning images imaginable. In the days following the disaster, out of respect for the

victims' families, city officials censored the

movie footage,

its

grim scenes of death and destruction deemed too harrowing for

any viewer to endure.

Otto Muchna puffed on his Panola, gazing out the open doorway of his tidy little carriage garage at 2716 North Central Park Avenue. Situated dale,

Muchna's funeral chapel was more than

of the chaos

now

occurring on the

hours of July 24th,

away

neighborhood of Lawn-

in the quiet, westside

as

it

river.

five miles

due west

For most of those early

might as well have been

a million miles

Otto Muchna had been holding court among

his drivers,

talking about everything under the sun but shipwrecks.

The conversation little

that

morning was

"salty," considering the

engaged.

Muchna

somber vocation

in

maybe even

a

which they were

spent a lot of off-time with his hearse drivers,

telling jokes, sharing

morning smokes. Contrary

immigrant undertakers of daily challenges

casual,

this vintage

and routine sorrow of

able lives.

124

to popular myth,

compensated

their trade

for

all

the

by leading ami-

— THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND

"They weren't morbid," Otto's grandson, Roy Muchna, with a smile. "This was their job. At the picnics and

recalls

brations, they

was

had

a

good

a lot of socializing.

time.

They formed

They did

cele-

associations. There

a lot of things as a group,

and

they drank a lot of beer."

Early twentieth-century undertakers provided an integral thread in the tapestry of Chicago's immigrant culture. Tiny, family-

run funeral chapels were located practically at every corner.

Immigrants themselves, and sensitive to the needs of their brethren, the undertakers provided comfort at this

moment

most

delicate

in a family's history.

In a typical privately-owned funeral parlor, the father did the

embalming, and the mother handled the makeup and burial

Most undertaker businesses were made house calls. Wakes took place

attire.

they in

modest

living

multi-generational, and in the

home. Coffins

rooms, displayed next to the hearth, the

sat

tick-

tock sound of ice dripping beneath the funeral bier blending with the soft hush of sobbing.

On last

by

that cool July morning. Otto

Muchna seemed

like the

person on earth one would associate with death. Surrounded

his drivers, he

stood

tall in his little

garage, leading the con-

versation between puffs of his fragrant stogie.

skinned

man

rangy, olive-

with a lantern jaw and prominent nose, he wore his

pomaded dark

down

A

hair swept straight back, as

though he were facing

the perpetual gale winds of sadness that blew past

He had an

every day.

him

elegant mustache that seemed to evolve

according to his social stature. His wedding photographs reveal a finely his

groomed young man,

upper

lip.

Later pictures

his

mustache a mere pen-line across

show

a luxurious,

bushy growth

the mustache of an earl or a viscount.

Born

in

Chicago on January 13, 1883, the eldest son of Bohe-

mian immigrants. Otto raised by his father,

lost his

who

mother

passed away

125

at

an early age and was

when Otto was

fourteen.

BONANSINGA

JAY

At that point Otto went to stay with Hved

in the

Lawndale

on the

district

his older sister,

west

city's

side.

Anna,

Anna's hus-

band, John Cervak, was a respected local undertaker, and there, living with the Cervaks, that

Otto

first

who was

it

learned the funeral

parlor business.

At that time, the Cervaks had a at the corner of

two busy

area. Fascinated

by the trade while

his brother-in-law

with

wakes

in the

still

a teenager.

Otto helped

aspects of the business, from the

preservation of bodies with arsenic, ation of

predominantly Bohemian

streets in a

all

storefront funeral chapel

little

homes

ice,

and sawdust, to the oper-

of the bereaved. Otto soon took

over the family business, and cemented his destiny.

This was a watershed time for mortuary science, which had just

begun to modernize. In the

hyde

in the

late

1890s, the use of formalde-

embalming room had become the new standard

for

preserving the deceased. (Until that time, practitioners used arsenic to

kill

bacteria,

which made forensic autopsies next to

impossible.) At the age of nineteen. Otto

became one of the

first

(and youngest) Chicagoans to qualify for an embalming license

under the new guidelines for mortuary In 1903,

Otto married

his

safety.

neighborhood sweetheart, Mary

Juranek, took possession of the Cervaks'

little

and Anna relocated, and

later

became

community. Otto's

a fixture in their

had three

chapel after John

children.

The Muchnas

sister-in-law,

Jenny

Juranek, worked as a cable winder at the Hawthorne plant, and

known as Muchna family knew all

pitched for the Western Electric ladies' softball team, the

Bloomer

Girls. Accordingly, the

about the annual Western Electric picnic, which had been a big topic of conversation around the

Muchna

dinner table that July.

However, nobody expected such cataclysmic news when Mary's pallid face

appeared above the Dutch door connecting the chapel

to the garage.

"There's been a boating accident," she uttered.

126

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND All heads turned. Otto's eyes wife's bloodless stare.

"An

narrowed

pondered

as he

his

accident?"

—

"Anna called it's Jenny." Mary's hand fluttered to her mouth in terror. "One of the picnic boats has gone down. They don't know if she was

—

Mary's words choked

off,

and the men looked

He

Otto Muchna's expression turned stony.

went

to his wife

was

her sister

woman

his

Mary

fine.

arm around

the

her.

He

how

assured her that

a calamity, she

was

to

was

a

different

He began

know.

to real-

grave such a situation could be for a ship packed to

Mary had no

loaded with friends and neighbors. But

gills,

cigar,

sister.

"What happened?" Otto wanted ize just

stubbed out his

of quiet dignity and humanity. But this

was her

each other.

trembled, which was out of character

Normally rock-steady during

for her.

this

and put

at

details. All she

knew was

that the Eastland

had turned

over,

and

things didn't look good.

Behind Mary, within the shadows of the chapel, the phone started ringing again.

"Where

are the kids?" Otto asked her, his stoic expression

unchanged.

"Otto and with the

Illich

May boy,

are inside; Jerry's

better see

the street, playing

making wooden boats."

"Better gather him." Otto

you

down

who's

calling.

nodded toward the chapel. "And

Could be something

else

about the

accident."

Mary

turned and hurried back into the chapel.

Otto whirled toward

and

still,

like soldiers

his

men. They were standing

there,

the horses, and get the hearse ready to travel. Otto

would have law,

to take a trip

down

and god-only-knew what

The men sprang

calm

awaiting orders. Otto told them to prepare

knew he

to the docks to find his sister-in-

else.

into action.

They grabbed

127

bridles off hooks,

JAY

threw open bits

doors, urged horses out of their cubbies. Metal

stall

and chains

BONANSINGA

without speaking to each other, "She's

all

The men worked

jangled. Horses snorted.

until they

quickly,

heard Mary's cry:

right!"

Mary appeared That was Jenny.

in the

doorway, her eyes wet. "That was

She's all right. She says she's

wet but

alive

her!

and

all

right!"

"Where

is

she?"

"She's at Iroquois Memorial,

Otto went over and gave ing.

Otto held

But

Mary was

could

tell

"It's

and

stroked her hair,

her,

she's all right."

Mary was still murmured that it was

his wife a hug.

okay.

She looked up into Otto's eyes, and he

rattled.

by her expression that

all

was not

well.

bad. Otto. Could be a thousand gone."

Otto took a deep breath, then nodded.

head on down the

do

shak-

river,

pick up Jenny and

"Go

maybe

get Jerry. see

what

I

I'll

can

to help."

Above the Reid-Murdoch

building,

its

giant scorched-brick

garret overlooked the accident scene,

its

clock face displaying

the time: eight-thirty-five.

water appeared almost

The tugs and

fireboats

like pilotfish,

Down

still.

below, the surface of the black

The bobbing heads had vanished.

burrowed against the

as stunned hordes of

hull of the Eastland

soaked picnickers stood

on the decks, dripping with rancid water, looking on. The chorus of snoring lung-motors and crackling arc welders the air as helpless multitudes watched from bridges

held back by an

army of men

in

and

sodden blue uniforms and

filled

piers,

rain-

slick coats.

Fewer and fewer bodies dragged from the water or from the guts of the ship

showed any

signs of

life.

Only an hour had

passed since the capsizing, but already a terrible dread pressed

down on

the scene.

The crowds grew

128

silent,

and

their silence fed

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND the anguish. Survivors began to reahze

what may have happened

to entire famiUes such as the Sindelars.

"The

virtually instantaneous nature of the disaster in the pas-

random element

sengers' perception constituted a very

one of the

survival," Hilton surmised. "This, in turn, explains

worst aspects of the

disaster, the extent to

which

through families and groups of friends, quickly

members while

in their

it

knifed

killing

leaving others with physical injuries

some

no worse

than bruises."

The lucky ones escaped death with ness.

One man

coat. Others

misses"

a stunning

random-

survived because a nail caught the collar of his

were tossed to

—people deciding

safety. Stories

at the last

abounded of "near

minute not to board the

Eastland, people delayed, people directed by ticket-takers to

board a different the

ship. Stories of incredible coincidences

news coverage.

named John

A

pervaded

gauge tender aboard the Eastland, a

Elbert, provided the Tribune

man

one of these amazing

yarns. "I

was up on deck when she

settled

on her

side,

and got

knew there were a lot of people imprisoned in the lounging room in the rear of the main deck." Wasting little time, the crewman quickly ripped off his shirt and crawled back down into the guts of the wreck. He found more safely over," Elbert explained. "I

than

fifty

preservers.

people trapped in the saloon area, clinging to

One by

one, Elbert helped

life

them back through the

companionway, saving dozens. In later interviews, Elbert credited his twelve years of experi-

ence in the navy for his

explanation for

why

swimming

skills.

He

also gave another

he was so fearless in the face of such

calamity, an explanation hotly disputed by

many and

questioned

eighty years afterward by historians such as George Hilton,

who

could find no documentation on the subject.

The reason, according

to Elbert, that he

129

was so hardened

to

BONANSINGA

JAY

shipwrecks, was because he had served on another boat that had

experienced

its

own brand

of catastrophic failure, the Titanic.

Plamondon stood on the edge of the dock near threshold of the Reid-Murdoch building. E. K.

Dripping wet,

his

woolen

vest clinging to his

straw boater long gone, the middle-aged his eyes as

W.

J.

arm around

his stunned,

to his niece

pier.

his

from

tears

His nephew,

a cluster of survivors, his

soaking-wet wife. The older

man

rushed

and nephew. The threesome embraced amid the

chaos, and stayed that until

crowded

back and

man wiped

he gazed toward the east end of the

Plamondon, was emerging from

the

way

for

some

raw emotion broke them down

time, tearful yet thankful, as they

hugged each

other.

For once, luck was with the Plamondon family. Seven of them

were on board the Eastland, including ters,

and

his

brother Ambrose, and

daughters were taken to

on the other

St.

E.K.'s wife, his all

two daugh-

of them survived.

Luke's Hospital.

The

Ambrose recovered

side of the river after single-handedly saving three

women. The Plamondons' stroke of good fortune was long overdue: they had seen much tragedy within their family in recent years. E.K.'s cousin Charlie fire

that

of 1903.

And

had

lost a

daughter

in the

Iroquois

only a couple of months prior to the Eastland,

same cousin, Charles Plamondon, had perished along with

his wife in the

cold waters off the coast of Ireland during the

sinking of the Lusitania.

The drizzle momentarily ceased, and for the briefest of moments, the sun came out. For many present that day, this strange incongruity went unnoticed. But for some, the sunlight

felt like a

travesty

—

a sort

of macabre grace note at the end of one of Chicago's ghastliest

hours.

130

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND

A

reporter for the Tribune noticed something floating on the

water, reflecting the light. bit

"Rays of gold dust yellowed

of hair that floated on the water for a

reporter,

the

haunted by an aching sadness. The object became a

symbol of many

things: the tragic loss of Ufe that

was

ning to register; the speed with which the disaster had gone; and that horrible point in

all

tangle of hair slowly sank

131

just begin-

come and

great tragedies where rescue

becomes recovery.

The

a tangled

moment," wrote

from view.

*

PART

3

City of Constant Sorrow

Grief can't be shared. Everyone carries

own burden

his

own

it

alone, his

way.

—Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Dearly Beloved

*

CHAPTER TWELVE

That Final Parting Embrace

The Eastland

disaster attracted every able-bodied diver w^ithin

a fifty-mile radius. Freelancers rushed to the scene with their

breathing trucks.

rigs,

slamming through cordons

Among them

w^ere Charles

in their

ramshackle

Gunderson of Gunderson

&

Son Submarine Divers, and Arthur Loeb, the self-proclaimed King of the

Bell Divers.

These staunch, grizzled,

years of punishing duty. "I vessel

on

men had

and granite constitutions, calloused by

torsos like tree trunks

broken blood

fearless

my

am

the only

man

in the

world with a

forehead and a fractured skull," Loeb

once asserted. But not a single one of these tough-willed

men

had any idea what they were about to find under the surface of that black river.

One

of these divers, Walter Johnsen, balanced himself on the

creaky, floating platform just

below the dock

east of the wreck,

waiting impatiently for his helmet, a huge bell of

with

little

head by a

mesh windows on city fireman.

Clark Street

pier,

One

hammered

iron

three sides, to be lowered over his

of the

first

Johnsen wanted to get

135

divers to arrive at the in the

water as quickly

JAY

The

as possible.

A

tall,

BONANSINGA him

noise bothered

—

the clanging

all

and

crying.

big-boned young Dane, Johnsen had a bushy, ginger-

colored mustache, and was decked out diving gear.

One

of the best

known "hard-hat"

Great Lakes, he usually worked alongside that fateful

Papa

Iver

man, with gray, Iver

morning the

heavy-duty leather

in

on the

Iver,

and on

A

smaller

tradition continued.

crouched nearby, also readying

a leathery face,

wore

divers

dad,

his

and

his gear.

mustache streaked with iron

a

the standard knit under-cap of

and also was preparing to put on

his helmet.

most hardhat men,

The Johnsens had

nonverbal, almost extrasensory ways of communicating: a series of nods, hand gestures and obscure signals.

morning, with

all

On

that tumultuous

on the docks, these

the noise and turmoil

sig-

nals proved especially useful. In 1915, scores of full-time divers

to

do salvage work and bridge

nineteenth-century technology.

apparatus had been

were employed

on what was

repairs

A

in

essentially

primitive version of a diving

in use since the eighteenth century,

the course of the next

200 years the physical

changed that much. The Eastland divers sion of the "closed suit"

inventor Augustus Seibe.

Made

and over had not

principles

utilized a

modified ver-

introduced in 1830 by the

first

Chicago

German

of layers of leather and rubber,

the suit covered the divers almost completely from head to toe,

except for the hands and helmet area.

A

leaden bib covered the

chest and shoulders in order to support the massive metal helmet,

and extra weight was carried

in the belt for stabilization.

the shoes bore heavy blocks of lead that

Even

would not have seemed

out of place on Frankenstein's monster.

The Johnsens made

their final

got into position, flinging air hoses

checks quickly. Surface teams in coils

along the dock. Each

diver connected himself to a pair of umbilicals

a rope for signaling trouble.

—

a hose for

One hard yank meant

136

air,

and

they had run

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND out of oxygen or they had gotten caught or they needed to

come

up immediately.

Waher Iver,

noticed a third diver standing on the dock beyond

preparing to join them. His

squat, burly, chiseled-looking

name was Harry Halvorsen. A

man, and one of the

city's

veteran

hardhats, Halvorsen had a reputation for being a diplomat, a

man who

could keep things running smoothly between the divers

and the cops.

It is

Halvorsen a

terse,

likely that

Walter Johnsen, at some point, gave

quick glance

—maybe a

nod or

a

wink

—to

acknowledge the gravity of the situation and to assure him that the Johnsens were ready for anything.

The helmet snapped down over noise and clamor around him,

Walter's head, muffling the

and darkening the

light into

narrow

nimbuses from the viewing portals. Toggle bolts clicked. The

sound of Walter's breathing

filled his ears.

then signaled the firemen, then gave a the floating platform

Everything went

and went silent,

Walter paddled and

He

hit

river

give

little

signaled his dad,

hop backwards

off

into the river with a splash.

dark, and cold.

moved

his legs in order to orient himself.

bottom almost immediately;

would never

He

at only twenty-three feet, the

anybody the bends, and

was

it

a soft

impact, like landing in a bowl of oatmeal. Walter blinked and rotated his

body toward the wreck.

Ghostly objects appeared. As Walter's eyes adjusted to the

murk, he began to discern things floating weightlessly past

his

helmet. Cigarettes, jewelry, bread, a shoe, pieces of chairs.

He

moved forward slowly toward first

the looming black monolith.

sign of the ship's sideways

bow came

The

into view.

Deadlights.

They appeared out of the haze

like signposts,

and Walter

rec-

ognized them immediately: closed portholes partially buried the

silt

of the river bottom, probably those

137

on the port

in

side of the

JAY

forward saloon. The

BONANSINGA

sailors called

them "deadlights," and

it

was

standard operating procedure to keep them closed during certain

maneuvers. The number and condition of these closed portholes

came

into play during criminal proceedings after the disaster.

Walter found

He

his

way

into the wreck.

entered through the forward portion of the hull, probably

through

a

submerged

stairwell,

atmosphere changing. The ambient

and immediately noticed the light

dimmed, and

the muffled

thumping and crackling of rescues-in-progress up above him vibrated the swill. Shapes loomed. Ruined fixtures, broken benches, and furnishings reached up at Johnsen like skeletal arms.

The line

diver

moved more

cautiously now, careful not to snag his

life-

on the twisted wreckage.

The

first

body came

a pile of chairs

party dress,

into view, a teenage girl

and the cabin

now

Clad

wall.

wedged between

in a brightly

colored

dulled by the dark dross of the underwater

world, her body swayed in the shifting currents. Walter Johnsen secretly girded himself as he peered girl's

wan

face,

through

his glass lens at the

contorted in asphyxia.

This was going to be far more difficult than repairing bridge pilings.

Johnsen extracted the limp form as gently as possible, working in the near dark, trying not to register the soft surfaces of her

dead body on

his fingers.

stairwell, soldiering

He

pulled the victim back through the

through the muck as a

man might

slog

through a dream. Other divers materialized: Iver and Halvorsen

moving

like

phantoms on

either flank.

moved off the port-side making his way toward victims.

perhaps,

Another corpse,

stern.

a boy,

Johnsen continued

Walter Johnsen would not meet Reggie Bowles for several

more hours, but already

made

his

the

Human

presence

Frog from Old Irving Park had

known

138

to

many.

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND "It was strange

how many

drowned hanging

of them

tight to

object below water," recalled the deckhand Harry Miller.

some

"Some I hooked down at the bottom, others halfway up, others only two or three feet below the water. I could tell by the pull it took to tear them loose that they had their hands gripped onto a rail or a table or some other fixed object down below the water." In many cases, as it turned out, the "other fixed object" was a loved one.

"Sometimes they had to put two bodies on the same stretcher," a local journalist reported.

"Death had so tightened

that final parting embrace, indulged in as the gray river water

who had

leaped up to meet those

in light hearted satisfaction

when

left

home

early

and exclaimed

they found they were

still

in

time to garner a seat on the shady side of the boat, the side that

now

lies

buried in the river ooze."

The pathos of someness. niture

Due

and the various unbolted items

tions of the

from

The leeching

adorned by neatly

skulls

down upon

the

and sheered extremities

effect of the river

dead especially

surreal.

made

the revela-

Mutilated bodies appeared

waxen dolls, their gashed visages buttoned Arrow collars or delicate lace

blanched and bloodless, still

sliding

had mangled bodies beyond recognition.

Falling debris tore scalps torsos.

the grue-

to the violent abruptness of the capsizing, the fur-

victims, the accident

from

was matched only by

the recovery

like

chokers.

Firemen and police repeatedly hooked female victims buried

down

in the

skirts,

onlookers audibly gasping as the young ladies' privates

silt,

then dragged them up by the sashes of their

glared in the gray light. "I

wondered dully why they waited

recalled Gretchen

for stretchers at all,"

Krohn, a renowned Chicago writer of that

"All the bodies carried past were so rigid that poles to carry

by seemed superfluous; and the

pitiful

139

era.

them

shortness of most of them!

JAY

BONANSINGA

Wet, clinging curls that swept the dock punctuated the

line so fre-

quently that even helpers groaned. Children, and yet more chil-

when

dren; and

it

wasn't a child

it

was

The instantaneous nature of many

a

young

fatalities

girl

of 18 or so."

had another

dis-

quieting effect: death had embossed ghastly expressions onto

many

of the dead faces.

"Has

it

ever been your

unhappy

a batch of particularly

unwelcome

of rhetorical delirium.

"Or have you

lot as a

youngster to drown

kittens?" wrote

Krohn

in a

fit

ever plunged a wire rat trap

into water.^ Imagine that expression of trapped animal terror

transferred to the face of a

human

being,

stamped by death that the pattern has

The recovery teams worked with ble in such

and then so firmly

set."

as

much decorum

as possi-

abysmal conditions. Firemen struggled across the

slip-

pery surface of the hull in grim silence. Along the pontoon bridges, divers flasks of

communicated wordlessly and shared concealed

whiskey to steady themselves between plunges. With

varying degrees of success the stretcher bearers tried to keep their pitiful

human cargo covered with

tarps

and away from the

pruri-

ent gazes of the crowds.

"The tarpaulin

sheets!"

Krohn opined. "They were

the trav-

on

this ghastliness. After all

these poor bodies had been trampled

on and then drowned, or

esty that put the final keen edge

drowned and then trampled on, they covered them up with paulins to keep this poor, wet earth from

Captain Pedersen

Graeme Stewart

sat

fireboat,

for the time being.

The

hands kept working tarily.

His

first

bolt upright

on

tar-

getting any wetter."

a

bench aboard the

where Schuettler had ordered him held

captain's head throbbed,

in his lap,

and

his

gnarled

wringing convulsively, involun-

mate, Del Fisher, sat next to him. Although no

record exists of their conversation at that point, the two likely

140

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND had

little

to say to each other.

The

infernal noise outside the boat

kept them silent and sheepish and defensive.

At some point

after nine a.m., Chief Schuettler

that the steamboat master

City Hall where

and

his right-hand

Cook County Coroner

Peter

man

gave orders be

moved

Hoffman and

to

Assis-

tant State's Attorney Charles Case were waiting to question them.

Twenty policemen

filed

on board the Graeme Stewart and took

Pedersen and Fisher into their custody for the short journey across the Loop.

rounded by as quickly cult,

a

They rode

horse-drawn patrol car sur-

in a

dozen or so mounted

and

police,

and made the journey

discreetly as possible, but discretion

considering what

was occurring on adjacent

proved

streets,

diffi-

not to

mention the escort of twenty cops. Before the procession got

the patrol car encountered a

far,

roadblock formed by what the Tribune described as "a mob."

Hundreds of furious onlookers and vanized by the madness on the car.

victims' family

members,

gal-

pushed toward the patrol

river,

Batons came out. People started shoving. Pedersen,

the rear of the car, partly visible through the

sitting in

open doorway,

tried

to remain stoic.

Finally a desperate, unidentified

mounted cordon and reached the could intervene, the

man

pried

blow

to the Captain's

man away and

the

rear of the car. Before officers

open the doors and found Peder-

sen sitting stiff-jawed in the shadows. solid

man broke through

The

attacker got off one

ruddy face before policemen tore the

clubbed him into submission with batons.

At the ACCIDENT

SITE, the lingering

problem of identifying the

dead began to weigh heavily on the minds of recovery workers.

Most

of those

to chicken crates

who were and

to local hospitals or

life

fortunate enough to survive, clinging

preservers,

wrapped

in

141

had already been conveyed

blankets on the

pier.

Already

BONANSINGA

JAY

traumatized, these passengers

now

joined the thousands of des-

perate famihes pacing the docks, frantically searching for loved

ones along the hull and barge and

in the

temporary morgues

Reid-Murdoch

way through

their

in the

set

up on the

building. Frantic mothers

pushed

the clogged hallways of the warehouse, des-

perately seeking the familiar face of a lost child or a missing hus-

band

in the

dim passageways where

Complicating matters was the

the corpses lay.

fact that the first several

dozen

bodies recovered had been transported by spare horse patrols to

remote funeral parlors or neighboring hospital morgues, and

were unaccounted

for.

By

scattered throughout the

Exhausted nurses

city.

tried futilely to

little

dren

keep order.

wide with

into each other, their eyes

out

morning, the deceased had been

late

squeaks of agony. "Mothers

whom

they had sent

away

a

terror,

fell

Women bumped

mumbling,

letting

across the biers of chil-

few hours before on what was

intended to be a day of pleasure," wrote the

New

York Times.

"Nearly every room on the lower floors of the warehouse contained bodies," reported the Tribune. "The remaining space

was

filled

tives

with crowds of policemen, rescuers, friends and

of the

dead,

and

a

embalmers had already been

corps of at

work

fifty

for

embalmers." The

some time

attempt to stave off further decomposition

rela-

among

in a furious

the water-

logged dead. Temporary curtains went up to separate the crowds

from the

rattling,

dripping business of the undertakers. But the

turmoil along the docks, as well as the nature of most of the

drowning deaths, made such considerations secondary. "Speed was important, and time was of the essence," explains

Jon Austin, current director of the

Museum

of Funeral Customs.

"Immediate removal from the water and immediate embalming

was

ideal in order to prevent the

blood from coagulating

vascular system. Coagulation would have

142

made

it

in

the

very difficult

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND for the undertakers of that era to drain the blood

and properly

prepare the body for viewing."

Workers from the

office of the

county coroner made valiant

attempts to keep order. They affixed tags to stretchers of the deceased, beginning with "A-1," and numbering them accordto "A-lOO," then beginning again with "B-1"

and so on.

Descriptions were entered into logbooks before the

embalmed

up

ingly,

bodies were placed in "ambulance baskets" containers with lids

—

But the fact that so

for discreet

many

conveyance to mortuary homes.

of the dead had already been taken to

town made

funeral parlors scattered across the nizingly slow

—oversized wicker the process ago-

and imperfect.

Emotions crackled. Something had to be done to bring order to this awful process of identifying the dead.

required leadership, and perhaps a thing verging

Two

on iron-clad

little

The

situation

something extra, some-

resolve.

FIGURES emerged during those early, tragic hours

on

a tide of

righteous indignation of almost biblical proportions:

County

State's

Attorney Maclay Hoyne, and

Cook

Cook County Coro-

ner Peter Hoffman.

Of Born ied

A

the

in

law

mere

two men, Hoyne was

the younger

and the wealthier.

1872, the scion of an old-money Chicago family, he studat

Northwestern University and entered the bar

five years later,

in

1897.

he had risen to senior partner at what

would become one of Chicago's most prestigious law firms: Hoyne, O'Conner and Hoyne. A staunch Baptist, he was elected state's

attorney in 1912 running as a Democrat, and immediately

started building a reputation for himself as a

reformer

With

— perhaps crusader was his patrician bearing,

eyeglasses,

a better

pursed

Maclay Hoyne resembled

143

a

word

lips,

tough-minded

to describe him.

and fussy

little

oval

young Franklin Roosevelt.

JAY

One

BONANSINGA

year after the Eastland disaster,

status by conducting a raid

Mayor

ruption in

machine. But

it

was

Hoyne

on City Hall

solidified his

itself,

mythic

exposing the cor-

"Big Bill" Thompson's well-oiled political the Eastland disaster that provided

Maclay

Hoyne with his earliest role on the national stage. Hoyne had been roused from his Loop office only moments after the capsizing, and by noon that morning came face to face on the north bank of the

Hoffman was

fifty-two,

coarser, a tad rougher class family,

river

nine years Hoyne's senior, and

around the edges. Born into

Hoffman had attended

to business college.

He'd been

road, and in 1898, he ran for

was

elected by the

coffee each

man had

with Coroner Peter Hoffman. At

a

was

a bit

working-

public schools and had gone

a grocer,

had worked

for the rail-

Cook County Commissioner and

same people

to

whom

he had once served

morning on the Chicago Northwestern. But Hoff-

bigger fires burning in his belly. In 1904 he launched a

successful

campaign on the Republican

ticket for

Cook County

Coroner.

A

big city coroner in

1915 served

medical examiners or pathologists

a

unique function. Unlike

who

are required to have

advanced medical degrees, the county coroner served what was ostensibly an administrative position based law. In a

on English common

major metropolis such as Chicago, the coroner required

no professional credentials other than supervisory

skills,

but

those he supervised included a vast team of specialists, assistant coroners, and physicians.

A

stout, round-faced

brown

hair, in early

Hoffman was

man

well suited to the task.

with a head of thick, wavy, unruly

photographs Hoffman gives off the appear-

ance of a bull about to charge. With his huge walrus mustache

and eyes glimmering with confidence, he was not

As he aged

— and

taken

lightly.

grayed

—he seemed to grow even more

in a safety

his girth

a

man

to be

spread and his hair

steadfast. In a

photograph

pamphlet published around the time of the Eastland

144

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND disaster,

antly,

Hoffman

an accusatory finger pointing out at the reader. The terse

reads: /

title

stands with back rigid, huge belly jutting defi-

Am

Trying to

Make

This County Safe! Are You

With Mef

On

the

morning of July 24,

guered dock,

this

as

same stubborn

Hoffman and Hoyne stood

Hoffman stood on

that belea-

rigor straightened his spine.

by

side

side,

surrounded by underlings and other

surveying the scene,

city officials, including

Acting Police Chief Schuettler, Assistant State's Attorney Michael Sullivan, Dr. Springer, Dr. Evans,

their straw boaters faces.

as the

a cadre of assistant fire

and deputy coroners. The group huddled

chiefs

grim

and

in the drizzle,

and hard bowler hats pulled low over

The clock tower above them

ticked

away

the minutes

dock writhed with mania. Hoffman realized that

facility

was needed

for the

their

a central

temporary warehousing of the dead.

The consolidation of bodies would be necessary to have a chance to identify loved ones in

for the bereaved

an orderly manner

with some degree of certainty.

Hoyne hall,

used in 1915 as a meeting

community, was on the west

and

enough

large

fatalities.

Hoffman

secure the

The Romanesque assembly

suggested the Coliseum.

facility for the

town, not

side of

to serve as a temporary

agreed,

burgeoning business

and Hoyne

sent

far

from the

morgue one of

for so

river

many

his assistants to

facility.

While the group waited, they assessed the scene. They observed the divers

smoke coming

in action,

off the hull

saw

the sparks

and plumes of

from the arc welders, and witnessed

limp, sodden bodies of children being extracted through the

jagged maws. The crackling and the yelling and the low sobbing of thousands bearing unspeakable loss chilled the

men worse

than the drizzle.

As Hoffman stood on the dock, off the litany of death,

listening to Dr. Springer tick

something must have snapped inside the

145

BONANSINGA

JAY

who

burly coroner. Witnesses

remember him being "wet with

man

observed the

at the site

and with perspiration drip-

rain,

ping from his face."

Hoffman turned

to his

group and announced that he was

going to get to the bottom of

serve

on

by one,

a special jury. his voice

Then he named

booming over

the

Henry

men

Department of

Allen,

the Morrison Hotel;

&c

J. S.

Company;

Keogh, gen-

manager of the McLaughlin Company; and Eugene

manager of the College

Beifeld,

Inn.

"As each man was named," the Tribune tants hurried to telephones and asked responsibility of fixing the

Minutes

to

he wanted, one

Murdoch

Public Works; William Bode of Reid,

eral

men

services of five

the noise: Dr. William Evans,

health editor of the Tribune; Colonel

Henry Moir, president of

and he would

this horrible tragedy,

do so immediately. He would require the

blame

if

later reported, "assis-

they would accept the

for the disaster."

Hoyne's personal assistant returned to the scene

later,

with more bad news: the Coliseum was currently

asunder by decorators

in

in disarray, torn

preparation for a meeting scheduled for

August 3rd. The building's agent offered an annexed section for use as a

morgue, but

it

was doubtful

that the

annex provided

enough space. At that point, one of the deputy

unknown

facility.

would be

ideal,

Hoffman and Hoyne concurred

and the coroner's

assistants

dispatched to the 2nd Regimental

Armory on fifteen

for the

—

his

name

—suggested an armory building on the near west

a possible

about

fire chiefs

Curtis Street between

blocks from the scene,

Illinois

side as

armory

were immediately National Guard

Randolph and Washington, in

order to prepare the space

horrendous gathering of human remains.

146

that an

is

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Somebody Made a Big Mistake

The little boy materialized in the murk. Through the fogged goggle of Halvorsen's child looked ghostly, otherworldly, like a doll caught

broken

on part of the twisted wreckage

main deck. The been more than

A

jolt

little

porcelain

submerged

in the

child, dressed in a sailor suit, five years old.

diving bell the

could not have

of anguish coursed through

the diver's heart.

As Halvorsen drew

near, stretching his lifeline to

glowing object came into view near the face. fly

Through the

helmet's

window

its limit,

a

child's lifeless yet tranquil

the object looked like a fire-

hovering there. Halvorsen reached for the boy, and realized

that the firefly

was

a

little

crucifix floating in the dark current.

Halvorsen gently tucked the icon into the dead boy's

shirt.

Then,

with great care, despite his exhaustion, the diver carefully extracted

No

little

William Sindelar from the wreckage.

one knows exactly what happened to the bodies of the

Sindelar family immediately after the capsizing.

the family died together, in a cluster, in the

probably died

instantly,

It is

believed that

main cabin. They

not from drowning but from the crush of

147

BONANSINGA

JAY

the throngs pressing into the stairwell.

dead shifted and

and George,

Jr.,

The configuration of the The bodies of Josephine

jostled during recovery.

were missing

days after the capsizing.

until three

For the team of divers, as well as those participating ery effort, finding William Sindelar

Halvorsen carefully made

body

in his

hold.

way back

arms, and tenderly handed

pathos of a

seemed to

his

became

little

boy

in a sailor suit

to the surface with the

The

sheer

being fished out of the abyss

signal a turn in the energy level. Fatigue started taking

Nobody put

into words, but the signs

it

air

were present

among

Although the whiskey burned water and tightened their

No more

made

girding effect

The job had worn them down. The

ing at each other anymore.

a stretcher, a

the diving team.

their throats,

bellies, the

in the

and the stevedores man-

pumps. As William was borne away on

metal flask was passed discreetly

cient.

a milestone.

to the firemen.

it

faces of the veteran firefighters, divers,

ning the

in the recov-

divers

their eyes

was

insuffi-

were not look-

jaunty signals or brazen

leaps into the mire.

Even the sound of

a

"human

frog" bursting out of the water

nearby did nothing to penetrate their weary stoicism.

Reggie emerged, gasping, laying

them

feet of

firemen and policemen.

as gently as possible

bound together

in death,

more bodies from

lifting

the water,

on the pontoon bridge

Some

at the

victims clung to each other,

drenched clothing intertwined. Reggie

couldn't look for too long.

If

he looked for more than a second

he started feeling bad inside, and that slowed him down.

"HEY!"

He

ignored the barking baritone.

two dozen bodies

at that point,

He had

most of them

fat,

his

chil-

fiber of his

spindly body ached.

With

women and

was working on him. Every The beginnings of hypothermia tightened skinny arms and legs and his dearth of body

dren, and the anguish

his joints.

already recovered

he would soon succumb to the

148

chill.

— THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND

"HEY— YOU! BOY!" He

kept ignoring the voice.

Turning back to the wreck and preparing to dive under again, he took a deep breath of

air into his

new^spapers called Reggie a

throbbing lungs.

"human

frog"

ficult

it

reason

was

his capacity to

He

could hold his

stay underwater for long periods of time.

breath for up to three minutes, although

One

was

getting

more

dif-

with every dive. The combination of exhaustion, cold, and

mental anguish was threatening to knock Reggie out.

A

meaty hand grabbed

was about

his shoulder just as he

to

dive.

"Hold your horses,"

said the deep voice.

Reggie Bowles turned suddenly, looked up, and saw a big

cop standing over him. Dressed

brim of

in a black rain slicker, the drizzle

his cap, the officer

had

a strange expression

a mixture of stern, paternal anger

and something

One

at

of

Funkhouser, for

you

key

the

to

supervisors

who worked

knock

off, son.

dripping off the

directly

the

on

accident

his face

admiration.

like

site.

under Schuettier,

said,

Major "Time

Let the professionals take over."

"Let go!"

Reggie yanked himself away, then dove back

loomed

in.

The wreck

whale.

like a sleeping

Reggie Bowles madly searched the

muck

for the opening

through which he had been entering. Plenty of bodies the innards of the ship,

had

all

and Reggie would not give up

still

lay in

until they

been taken out.

News of the

calamity spread across the land. "Steamboat East-

land sunk at the dock," announced one frenzied dispatch addressed to Honorable

Woodrow

Wilson, President of the

United States, Washington D.C., going on to report, "1000 lost."

Wilson was

shire,

but the

at his

moment

summer

retreat in Cornish,

lives

New Hamp-

he learned of the disaster he wired his sec-

149

JAY

retary of

BONANSINGA

commerce, William Redfield, and ordered an immediate

investigation.

Published death

1,200 at

tolls varied,

the Tribune wire service claiming

numbers throughout the

later revising the

first,

day.

Other news bureaus reported anywhere between 900 and 1,800 fatalities.

Fire,

As only about 300 had perished

and the Iroquois Theatre

Chicago's Great

claimed approximately 600,

fire

the gravity of the disaster quickly

in

became apparent.

Chicago's mayor, a flamboyant career politician

William Hale Thompson, had

left

town

a

few days

named

earlier to

Panama Pacific Exposition in San Francisco with Illinois governor Edward F. Dunne. The event, celebrating the 1914 opening of the Panama canal, had been a gala international gathering. Organizers had planned a "Chicago Day" on the 27th, attend the

featuring a dinner, reception and ball. But

news of the Eastland

rocked the contingent and spread a pall over the entire event.

Governor Dunne found himself "grieved beyond expression," and Mayor Thompson ordered

a special train to be provided

by

the Overland Limited that afternoon for his immediate return. "I

am

shocked and grieved by the news from home detailing

the horrible disaster," the ing.

mayor

Thompson had once been

had been spooked by

its

told attendees before depart-

a passenger

unstable

feel.

From

on the Eastland, and that point on, he

refused ever to ride on the boat again. "I consider for

me

to return to

here will return

my

post," he

went on, "and

it

had

imperative

city officials

with me."

As the mayor's

train started for

home, thousands bowed

heads while the band of the 1st Regiment of the

Guard played "Nearer

Illinois

their

National

My God to Thee."

"Tears ran freely in the

hymn was

sung," wrote a visiting

cosmopolitan audience as the Tribune reporter.

While Thompson

mayor back

in

lit

out across the high desert, the acting

Chicago, Commissioner of Public Works William

150

THE SINKING OF THE EASTLAND

Moorhouse,

and tumult overtaking the

dealt with the shock

town. Moorhouse responded swiftly and decisively to the catastrophe, immediately releasing relief funds as well as ordering that "all places

and

amusement

of

in this city, including theaters,

other pleasure resorts, be closed

and remain closed

parks

for

two

days as a mark of respect to the dead, so suddenly snatched from life."

Moorhouse

command

also took charge of the scene.

He

arranged a

post between his office and the recovery operation,

and ordered wooden panels erected along the Clark and Wells morbidly curious.

Street bridges to block the gazes of the

Across the lake, lay silent

trimmed

and

still

in

Michigan

for a celebration that

or ever again.

An advance

park

City, the sad little lakeside

under the changing

sky, all garnished

would never occur

and

—on that day,

party of Western Electric workers had

been there for two days, preparing the town, and

when

the

news

reached them, they sat stunned in the deserted amusement park. Colorful floats sat unused in storage at the Indiana Transportation

Company's warehouse. Restaurants remained empty, brimming with extra

shelves

supplies.

The Vreeland Hotel,

pared for a gala banquet, sat vacant in eerie

Mary

girl at

the

Hawthorne

pre-

silence.

Clark, a lovely, fair-haired eighteen-year-old

been voted prettiest

their

plant,

who had

was appointed

the queen of the festivities and planned to lead the parade. She

now

lay

dead

in the

Chicago River

in

one of the sunken berths of

the Eastland.

Word the news,

owned his

of the disaster reached

St.

Joseph, Michigan. Hearing

W. H. Hull, general manager of

the Eastland,

had

a nervous

the

company

that

breakdown and collapsed

at

home. After being placed under the care of a physician and

sequestered in his room, Hull refused to speak to anyone other

than his family. St.

A

few miles away, hundreds of residents of

Joseph and the neighboring

city of

151

Benton Harbor mobbed

BONANSINGA

JAY

the company's friends

and

headquarters, demanding information about

on the pMstland.

relatives

The news reached

far-flung wire bureaus. Telegrams zipped

over the transatlantic cable, and within hours wire reports had apprised the entire war-torn European continent. The British

had

their

own problems

at the time,

German submarines

with

blockading waterways, the Kaiser sinking ocean pelins raiding

how

major

cities.

But the world

European

to be shrinking. Countless

and grandchildren and many

villages

in

Chicago

in

in

families

had children

were stung by the news.

German and Russian

marveled that such a tragedy could happen

United States, where so

Western

1915 seemed some-

search of the American dream,

In Poland, then under attack by both forces, people

and zep-

liners,

many

Polish emigrants had gotten jobs at

Electric. "In the heart of a peaceful country,

heart of a peaceful

city,

in the

where

be taken for the safety of men,

all

and

in the

precautions are supposed to

women and

children," wrote one

Polish journalist, "the lives of a thousand persons,

on pleasure

bent, have been snuffed out."

Other Eastern European countries, many of them the homelands of Eastland passengers, reacted with similar emotions.

Hungary

sent off a special message to Chicagoans from their

minister of foreign affairs. In Vienna, U.S.

was deluged with

who its

of Milwaukee, and dispatched

on

a train,

LaSalle,

on the Eastland^

carried insurance

responded immediately. While victims were of the boat, Lloyd's cabled

still

being hauled out

Warkman Warkman jumped

U.S. representative, T. C.

him

to the scene.

and by mid-afternoon had checked into the Hotel

and by

five o'clock

was making

inquiries.

William Rolph, the mayor of San Francisco, hosting his

Penfield

and expressions of sympathy.

inquiries

Lloyd's of London,

Ambassador

in the

throes of

own international exposition, dropped everything and

boarded a train for Chicago to help

152

in

any way that he could.

An

A

early postcard of the Eastland. (Eastland Disaster Historical Society)

moonlight excursion. (Eastland Disaster Historical Society)

i

C1J93

—WMtern Electric Compony Cicero, ntinois

Postcard depicting the Hawthorne works. (Eastland Disaster Historical Society

Hawthorne asscmblv-line workers,

ca. 1913. (Hastland Disaster Historical Society

Washington Park in

the early 1900s.

(Courtesy La Porte

County Historical Society, Inc.)

'"^'-ijfi^^f^

A

parade of suffragettes from the Hawthorne works,

Technologies and

Ron

ca.

1913. (Courtesy Lucent

Steinberg)

The 1914 picnic: "Sit down, yoirrc rockin" and Ron Steinberg)

rlic

hoar!"

i