Ernest Michael McSorley was the last captain of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald and a widely respected master mariner on the Great Lakes. Canadian-born but settled in the United States, McSorley was known for his exceptional piloting skill and sound judgment in heavy weather. Having risen from the entry-level position of deckhand to become the youngest master on the Lakes, he embodied the ideal of professional seamanship. In The Gales of November, McSorley was the central figure through whom Bacon explores the book’s key questions: how expert decisions, professional pressures, and chance interact under extreme conditions.

Bacon establishes McSorley’s sterling reputation early, noting that he was “widely considered the best captain on the Great Lakes” (3). He built his crew over many years, inspiring a loyalty that led many to follow him from ship to ship. Because of this expertise, his operational choices during the storm of November 10, 1975 become the critical anchor points of the narrative. McSorley’s decision to take the longer, northern sheltering route, his subsequent reports of topside damage and a developing list, and the eventual loss of both of his ship’s radars form the timeline of the growing crisis.

McSorley’s transmissions to the nearby Arthur M. Anderson provide the primary evidence for Bacon’s causal analysis. Reports of a downed fence rail, damaged vents, and a list are the foundational clues that underpin the main theories for the sinking, including hull damage from shoaling or catastrophic failure from unsecured hatches. McSorley becomes the narrator of his own ship’s demise, and his communications supply the factual basis for the ongoing debate over what ultimately sent the Fitzgerald to the bottom of Lake Superior.

Remembered by mariners and families as a consummate professional, McSorley’s legacy is inextricably linked to the tragedy. His final, stoic words transmitted to the Anderson—“We are holding our own” (300)—have become iconic, capturing the quiet courage and professionalism that defined his career. Through McSorley, Bacon connects the abstract forces of weather and economics to the concrete, life-or-death decisions of a captain entrusted with his ship and crew.

The 29 men of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald serve as the collective protagonists of The Gales of November. Comprising a mix of seasoned veterans—many from the World War II and Korean War eras—and six young rookies, their stories anchor the book’s portrait of maritime labor, camaraderie, and risk. Bacon presents them not as abstract victims but as individuals with distinct roles, from wheelsmen and engineers to porters and deckhands. Their shared experience transforms the technical account of a shipwreck into a human story about the lives behind the legend.

The intergenerational team blended decades of experience with the energy of mariners just starting their careers. This dynamic highlights the breadth of skill required to operate a massive ore carrier. During the storm, their professional actions—securing hatches, monitoring engine performance, and fighting against the weather and signs of flooding—form a critical part of the evidence chain. Bacon reconstructs their final hours to emphasize their competence and dedication in the face of overwhelming conditions.

To move the story beyond technical debate, Bacon draws on family memories, correspondence, and personal anecdotes to illuminate the crew members’ lives, motivations, and hopes. These biographical portraits are essential to the book’s purpose, humanizing the 29 men and giving readers a stake in their fate. By detailing their connections to their hometowns and families, Bacon illustrates the wide-reaching impact of the tragedy on the Great Lakes community.

Their legacy is preserved through the sustained efforts of their families and the wider maritime community. Annual bell-ringing ceremonies, museum exhibits dedicated to their memory, and the designation of the wreck as a protected gravesite are all forms of commemoration. Through the story of the crew, Bacon traces how a profound loss reshaped regional identity and catalyzed a renewed commitment to safety, ensuring that the sacrifice of the 29 men would not be forgotten.

Captain Jesse B. “Bernie” Cooper commanded the SS Arthur M. Anderson, the companion vessel that sailed in partnership with the Edmund Fitzgerald during the storm of November 9-10, 1975. As a veteran Great Lakes master mariner, Cooper’s testimony provides the primary eyewitness account of the Fitzgerald’s final hours. His significance in the book is twofold: He is the main source for the event’s timeline and an embodiment of the unwritten “sailor’s code” of duty and mutual aid.

Bacon establishes Cooper’s credibility as a respected professional whose logs and radio communications offer a corroborated narrative of the unfolding crisis. Cooper maintained contact with Captain McSorley, relaying critical information about the Fitzgerald’s topside damage, its developing list, and the failure of its radar systems. This situational awareness, passed from one captain to another, provides the most reliable evidence of the Fitzgerald’s deteriorating condition.

Bacon uses Cooper’s interviews and recorded accounts throughout the book to lend a first-person texture and chronological structure to the narrative. It is through Cooper’s perspective that the reader tracks the Fitzgerald on radar, hears McSorley’s final transmission, and experiences the uncertainty and growing alarm when the ship disappears. Cooper is the story’s crucial witness, the last man to be in contact with the lost vessel.

His legacy is defined by his courageous decision to lead the post-storm search. At the Coast Guard’s request, Cooper turned the Anderson around and went back into the hurricane-force winds and monstrous seas to look for survivors. This hazardous maneuver highlights the professional ethics and profound sense of duty among mariners. Cooper’s actions demonstrate the solemn code of the Lakes: you go back for your fellow sailors, no matter the risk. As Bacon recounts Cooper’s internal debate, he highlights the captain’s fear but ultimate resolve: “I’ll go back and take a look, but God, I’m afraid I’m going to take a hell of a beating out there” (308).

Gordon Lightfoot (1938-2023) was a Canadian folk singer-songwriter whose 1976 ballad, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” transformed a regional tragedy into an enduring part of North American cultural memory. Inspired by early news reports of the sinking, Lightfoot composed the song just months after the event. Its success on both US and Canadian charts ensured that the story of the 29 lost sailors would reach a global audience and remain in the public consciousness for decades.

Lightfoot’s song is presented not just as a piece of music but as a living historical document. Bacon details how the singer-songwriter maintained contact with the crew’s families and demonstrated deep respect for their grief and the emerging facts of the case. Notably, Lightfoot later revised the lyrics, removing a line about a hatchway caving in after new evidence suggested that theory was unlikely. This act aligned the cultural artifact with evolving historical understanding and underscored Lightfoot’s commitment to honoring the crew’s memory accurately.

Ultimately, Lightfoot’s ballad is the primary reason for the wreck’s lasting fame. The song drives public interest during anniversaries, contributes to museum attendance, and fosters intergenerational awareness of Great Lakes maritime history. For millions, the story of the Fitzgerald is inseparable from Lightfoot’s song, making him a key figure in the preservation and popularization of the event.

Ruth Gladys Hudson, known to the other families as “Aunt Ruth,” was the mother of Bruce Hudson, a 22-year-old deckhand who died on the Edmund Fitzgerald. In the years following the 1975 sinking, she channeled her personal grief into a public role, becoming a leading voice and organizer for the families of the 29 lost crewmen. Her story illustrates the transformation of private sorrow into public stewardship, shaping how the wreck is memorialized.

Bacon introduces her as a determined and formidable organizer. He quotes her niece: “Aunt Ruth was all of four foot nine… But she told everyone she was five foot four—and they believed her! She stood like she was six feet tall, and she would kick your butt” (1). This characterization establishes her as the driving force behind two of the most significant commemorative efforts. She was instrumental in coordinating the multi-year campaign that led to the recovery of the Fitzgerald’s bell in 1995 and was a tireless advocate for designating the wreck a protected gravesite under Canadian law.

Her legacy is visible in the enduring commemorative practices that prioritize dignity and respect for the lost crew. The placement of the ship’s bell as the centerpiece of the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum and the legal protection of the wreck site from salvage divers reflect her priorities. Through her determined advocacy, Hudson ensured that the memory of her son and his 28 shipmates would be honored not as a source of morbid curiosity but as a sacred trust.

Richard “Dick” Race was a highly regarded Great Lakes maritime investigator and submersible operator known for his technical expertise in surveying shipwrecks. Shortly after the Edmund Fitzgerald sank, the ship’s operator, Oglebay Norton, contracted Race to conduct a private investigation of the Six Fathom Shoal area near Caribou Island. Race’s work is significant because his alleged findings inform one of the leading—and most contested—theories about the sinking, while the secrecy surrounding his report illustrates the persistent evidence gaps in the case.

Race’s methodology involved using specialized diving platforms to conduct instrumented surveys of the shoal, searching for physical evidence of a grounding, such as paint scrapings or impact marks on the bedrock. His technical credibility lends weight to his conclusions. Although his official report was never publicly released, Bacon notes that Race confidentially shared his findings with close colleagues, claiming he found traces of the Fitzgerald’s maroon paint on the shoal.

The controversy surrounding Race’s work highlights why a definitive cause for the sinking remains elusive. Because his report was confidential, and other expeditions have produced mixed evidence, the theory that the ship sustained fatal hull damage by bottoming out on the shoal remains heavily debated. Race’s role in the book clarifies why consensus has never been reached, positioning the shoaling theory as a plausible but unproven piece of the puzzle.

Samuel Plimsoll (1824-1898) was a 19th-century British Member of Parliament and social reformer whose campaign against dangerously overloaded vessels, known as “coffin ships,” led to landmark maritime safety legislation. His most famous achievement was the establishment of the Plimsoll line, a mandatory marking on a ship’s hull indicating the maximum safe draft. Bacon includes Plimsoll to provide the essential regulatory and historical context for understanding the role of freeboard rules and economic incentives in the Fitzgerald tragedy.

Plimsoll’s advocacy resulted in the British Merchant Shipping Act of 1876, which standardized safe loading practices. These standards eventually became international conventions that influenced regulations on the Great Lakes. Bacon uses Plimsoll’s story to frame the book’s critical examination of the freeboard reductions that were approved for Great Lakes freighters between 1969 and 1973. This historical lens connects Plimsoll’s 19th-century fight for safety to the 20th-century pressures that allowed ships like the Fitzgerald to carry more cargo at the expense of a greater margin of safety, linking past reforms to contemporary risks.

Captain Dudley J. Paquette was the master of the SS Wilfred Sykes, another freighter that departed Lake Superior shortly after the Edmund Fitzgerald on November 9, 1975. Known for his weather-savvy seamanship, Paquette serves as a crucial operational benchmark in the narrative. His decisions during the storm offer a contemporaneous point of comparison to Captain McSorley’s choices, informing the book’s analysis of routing, risk assessment, and expert judgment.

As the storm intensified, Paquette read the forecasts and opted to take refuge in Thunder Bay rather than press on. This conservative choice stands in contrast to McSorley’s decision to continue his journey. Paquette’s logs and testimony are used by Bacon to corroborate the storm’s exceptional severity, documenting extreme seas and wind conditions. His expert judgment also supports analyses of the timing and risks associated with navigating near the Caribou Island and Six Fathom Shoal area, making him an important external voice in the historical record of the storm.