On a warm evening in 1860, the Lady Elgin’s paddlewheels gently pushed her from Chicago’s passenger dock proceeded north. The boat was a pleasant and comfortable way for politicians, families on holiday, soldiers and prominent businessmen to travel up and down Lake Michigan. Two roomy decks, a promenade where couples lingered, and saloons with the fragrant scent of bay rum, fine cigars, and brandy.
Passengers on September 8 comprised delegates from a Republican rally, tourists and groups of college students. Conversations, talk of politics and music from a string quartet floated on a light breeze. Captain John “Jack” Wilson’s officers were monitoring the barometer and watching the horizon. They were, after all, on Lake Michigan, a place where the waters can change without a lot of warning.
Survivors of Lady Elgin’s destruction in 1860 later said torrents of rain extinguished dozens of topside lamps and gale force winds snapped the wooden mast like a toothpick.
Out of the Darkness
And then out of the darkness and pouring rain, the Augusta, a heavy three-masted working ship, smashed into the Lady Elgin’s starboard side. The collision ripped a huge gash in the wooden slats. Water rushed in unchecked and ripped the iron steam pumps from their clamps and footings. Furnace doors were flung open and the engines sputtered before they stopped altogether. Boxes of emergency flares were submerged in the flood. Men on the upper deck lowered canvas life preservers with numb and freezing hands while women held small children on their shoulders. All wore clothing of people unprepared for immersion in cold lake water. In less than an hour the luxurious sidewheeler slipped silently beneath the lake’s surface…