The SS Arthur M. Anderson loaded taconite in Two Harbors, Minnesota, 30 miles from Superior, Wisconsin. Launched in 1952 and recently extended to 767 feet, the Anderson was considered the Fitzgerald’s close cousin, with an experienced crew. However, while McSorley commanded universal respect, Anderson captain Jesse “Bernie” Cooper earned mixed reviews. Second engineer Rick Barthuli describes Cooper as competent but excessively confident and prone to taking unnecessary risks for schedules and profits.

Cooper maintained a productive partnership with chief engineer Jim Boyle and first engineer Harry Ashcroft, a tall, distinguished nuclear-licensed engineer. Ashcroft, known for his independence, was unintimidated by Cooper—a traits that would soon prove crucial.

At 2:15 pm, the Fitzgerald entered Lake Superior at full speed. Near dusk, the Coast Guard buoy tender Woodrush passed the Fitzgerald returning to Duluth. Crewman Michael Zronek recalls the remarkably warm 70-degree weather. The Woodrush crew anticipated rare liberty on Monday, November 10—a day off that would unexpectedly be cut short.

At 5:00 pm, the Anderson departed Two Harbors. The faster Fitzgerald caught up near Isle Royale, and the ships paired up. The National Weather Service issued a gale warning predicting 40-mph winds, but McSorley and Cooper initially planned the direct southern route. Captain Dudley J. Paquette of the Wilfred Sykes, an experienced weather forecaster, suspected worse conditions and chose the longer, sheltered northern route despite risking criticism for the 14-hour delay.

At 7:00 pm, the NWS revised its forecast, warning of 5- to 10-foot waves—threatening the Fitzgerald’s 11.5-foot freeboard. Both captains changed to the northern route. This carried consequences: the final southern leg would expose them broadside to waves building across the lake’s entire 350-mile fetch, and the 14-hour delay risked allowing other threats to develop. Both captains rarely sailed this route.

The route change signaled trouble to both crews. Anderson engineer Barthuli recalls knowing immediately that conditions would deteriorate. The journey now stretched from 30 to 44 grueling hours.

Early Monday, November 10, at 1:00 am, the Fitzgerald reported 40-mph winds with 60-mph gusts and 10-foot waves. Captain Paquette was stunned when McSorley announced he was slowing the engines, allowing the Fitzgerald to fall behind. Sensing danger, Paquette took the Sykes into Thunder Bay harbor. All three captains remained in their pilothouses, indicating serious conditions and building fatigue.

At 2:00 am, the NWS upgraded to a storm warning, though conditions already exceeded forecasts. At 3:00 am, McSorley ordered the Fitzgerald back to full speed, pulling ahead of the Anderson.

Unknown to the captains, the southwestern storm was racing along the southern shore directly toward Whitefish Bay, unreported because no ships sailed that route. Years later, oceanographer David Schwab’s computer model would confirm this unexpected path. Pat Schutte corroborates with an eyewitness account from Marquette, describing solid green waves approximately 25 feet high rolling over Picnic Rock, a 16-foot formation.

The storm’s epicenter was positioning itself to block the Fitzgerald’s path to safety, and the 14-hour delay put the ship on a collision course.

At dawn Monday, conditions seemed manageable. At 7:00 am, a mate transmitted a routine weather report. Twenty minutes later, the ship informed its home office that the ship was maintaining full speed but could not predict with certainty when it would arrive at Soo Locks.

Porter Nolan Church, who had repeatedly assured his son that Lake Superior had no hole large enough to swallow the Fitzgerald, continued his rounds. David Weiss planned to celebrate his 22nd birthday. Tom Bentsen thought of his girlfriend and their future. Bruce Hudson anticipated his cross-country road trip before settling down with his pregnant girlfriend.

After the morning calls, the Fitzgerald adjusted course toward Pukaskwa Depot. Waves now came from behind in a following sea, making steering more difficult. Near Pukaskwa Depot, McSorley executed a 90-degree starboard turn, heading south and beginning the most dangerous leg—sailing broadside to waves building across the lake’s full fetch.

At 11:00 am, the Anderson followed the Fitzgerald’s turn south, with both ships face broadside waves. The Fitzgerald’s flat-bottomed hull handled these conditions poorly. The unseasonably warm fall had created conditions for winter’s explosive arrival, making waves far larger than forecasted.

At 1:40 pm, after passing Michipicoten Island, the Fitzgerald headed toward Caribou Island and Six Fathom Shoal. McSorley radioed Cooper that the Fitzgerald was rolling—a significant admission. At 1:50 pm, the Anderson reported 58-mph winds.

The Fitzgerald continued at full speed, pulling 16 miles ahead. On the Anderson, first engineer Harry Ashcroft recognized the danger of excessive speed. Without informing Captain Cooper, Ashcroft instructed Barthuli to reduce power. When Cooper angrily demanded more power, Ashcroft placated him but made no changes. Minutes later, Cooper believed power had been restored.

Barthuli reflects that Ashcroft’s willingness to disobey a direct order—risking suspension or firing—likely saved the Anderson and its crew. Meanwhile, the Fitzgerald continued at full speed toward Six Fathom Shoal.

By 3:00 pm, waves along the southern shore had reached 15 feet and were still growing. At 2:45 pm, a heavy snowstorm drastically reduced visibility. The Fitzgerald, an hour ahead, encountered the worsening conditions first.

Caribou Island and Six Fathom Shoal represent one of Lake Superior’s most dangerous areas. Six Fathom Shoal measures only 11 feet deep in places—a lethal hazard for the heavily laden Fitzgerald. McSorley navigated with outdated charts based on 1916 and 1919 surveys. A 1976 survey revealed that the shoal extended a mile farther east than his chart indicated. Over 20 hours of violent seas had likely impaired his judgment through cumulative motion fatigue.

Captain Cooper later reported watching the Fitzgerald’s radar blip pass directly over Six Fathom Shoal. Barthuli speculates that McSorley took the risk to maintain speed. Professional courtesy prevented Cooper from warning McSorley. If the Fitzgerald had bottomed out, McSorley would not have admitted it, and crew below might not have distinguished the impact from wave pounding.

After observing the Fitzgerald’s path, Cooper deliberately steers the Anderson on a wider, safer course.

At 3:30 pm on November 10, with winds at 50 miles per hour, Captain McSorley of the Fitzgerald radioed Captain Cooper of the Arthur M. Anderson. The Anderson was also taking on water and had sustained damage to a lifeboat.

McSorley reported that the Fitzgerald had sustained some damage, including two lost vents and a broken fence rail on the deck, and was now listing to one side. He informed Cooper that he was slowing the ship so the Anderson could catch up and guide them. This was a significant concession for the hard-charging captain, signaling that survival had overtaken speed as his priority.

Despite McSorley’s calm tone, the damage was severe. The lost vents could allow water into the ballast tanks, and the damaged fence suggested a major structural event, such as the ship “hogging” over a large wave or grounding on a shoal.

The list was the most dangerous problem, indicating that the ship was taking on a significant amount of water. This might have been from unsecured cargo hatches—the later Coast Guard theory—or a breach in the hull. Water mixing with the taconite cargo would be impossible to pump out, making the ship heavy, sluggish, and vulnerable to capsizing. By slowing down, McSorley made a cautious decision that tragically may have given the flooding and the approaching storm the time they needed to overtake his ship.

By 4:00 pm, the snowstorm had created whiteout conditions. Cooper reported 25-foot waves; the Fitzgerald likely faced worse. Green water washed over the deck, risking ice accumulation that could add tons of destabilizing weight and disrupt the ship’s center of gravity.

At 4:10 pm, McSorley radioed that both radars had failed. He would slow down to let the Anderson guide him. At 4:39 pm, McSorley learned that the Grand Marais Coast Guard lighthouse and beacon were out. The Whitefish Point lighthouse had also failed.

During a call with Captain Cedric Woodard of the Avafors, McSorley was overheard urgently shouting, “Don’t let nobody on deck!” Investigation later revealed a winch cable unspooled 120 feet and a pilothouse door latched open, suggesting that crew members had attempted to lash together a cracking deck before McSorley stopped them.

Dropping his stoicism, McSorley confessed to Woodard: “I have a bad list, lost both radars. And am taking heavy seas over the deck. One of the worst seas I’ve ever been in” (292). His emphasis on the “bad” list indicates it is now his primary concern. It is the worst storm McSorley—or anyone—has faced on the Great Lakes since 1913.

The storm’s intensity forced the closure of the Mackinac Bridge, with 85-mph winds causing it to sway 35 feet. Around 6:00 pm, Cooper reported the Anderson taking 25-foot waves or higher. Barthuli recalls 25- to 30-foot waves, the largest of his career, with the Anderson’s main deck six feet underwater half the time. Barthuli witnessed one of the Anderson’s solid steel lifeboats crushed flat by waves—an unprecedented sight.

Professor Guy Meadows explains that in storms of this duration, ships will occasionally encounter waves twice the storm’s average wave height. Statistical analysis indicates that the Fitzgerald’s crew faced 40- to 60-foot waves—the height of a six-story building—multiple times. The Fitzgerald’s unique design characteristics, low freeboard, potential shoal damage, and other problems were all being tested by once-in-a-lifetime conditions.

McSorley struggled to obtain help from shore. A call to the Coast Guard’s Group Soo station reached rookie watchman Petty Officer Philip Branch, who failed to grasp the situation’s severity and did not pass on McSorley’s concerns.

By 7:00 pm, the Anderson confirmed that the Fitzgerald was on course for Whitefish Bay. By slowing down, McSorley had inadvertently allowed the storm’s epicenter to reach Whitefish Bay first. Wind gusts reached 100 mph. David Schwab’s model later confirmed that the Fitzgerald had arrived at the worst possible place at the worst possible time.

At 7:10 pm, an Anderson mate radioed McSorley and asked for a status update. McSorley replies, “We are holding our own” (300).

These are the last known words from the Edmund Fitzgerald. 30 to 45 minutes later, the Anderson could only intermittently detect a radar target where the Fitzgerald should have been. Repeated calls went unanswered. The ship had vanished.