I am the Queen of Thailand, married to the king who reigned from 1549 to 1569. All consider me to be a heroine of Thailand, because I sacrificed my life while trying to save my husband during a battle.
My husband was famous for his white elephants. He had a number of them and according to Brahminic beliefs, a monarch who had one or more white elephant was a symbol of glory and success. My husband's reign was extremely successful.
He ascended to the throne in 1549. After just six months, he was challenged by the King of Burma to a war. The King of Burma had a personal grudge towards my husband and he wanted to capture the main city, Ayutthaya, which was the capital of Siam. During those days Thailand was called Siam.
The Siamese king could not let the challenge go and my husband led his army in defense of the capital. During those times women were not allowed to take part in wars. But I was concerned about my husband’s well being and I wanted to be at his side during the battle. However, the King would not hear of it so I disguised myself as a man and I joined my husband on the battlefield.
During the battle, my husband's elephant was killed and taking advantage of this mishap, the Burmese king tried to kill him.
I intercepted the attack, but I died in the bargain. When the Burmese King found out that he had killed me, a mere woman, he was extremely ashamed and immediately withdrew from the battle; leaving Ayutthaya to Siam.
All looked upon me as a heroine for sacrificing my life to save my husband’. To this day, I am venerated and revered in Thailand for my bravery.
(Image courtesy of: Kristin Forbes-Mullane. Visit her art gallery at: http://kfmgallery.com/)
Originally a servant, I became mistress to the king of Neustria after persuading him to murder his first wife. But I was not satisfied to be a mere mistress. Because he was a king, he remarried, but remained his mistress. I waited patiently and when the time was right, I induced him to murder his second wife, too. Thus I became his third and last wife.
The murdered queen's sister, in revenge against my husband, began a feud
which lasted more than 40 years. Her brother, too, constantly feuded with my husband who had inherited the western portion of the Frankish lands, which came to be known as Neustria. The hatred between the two intensified.
When my husband's forces attacked Austrasia in 573, a desire for vengeance made the dear ex-brother-in-law vindictive, and in the fighting he overran Neustria. He was about to be proclaimed king of Neustria when I had him assassinated.
Murder came easy to me. I procured the deaths of my own stepchildren and made attempts on the lives of my husband's brother, the king of Burgundy, and my predecessor's sister.
After the mysterious assassination of my husband in 584, I seized his riches and took refuge in the cathedral at Paris. None could say for certain that his death came about by my own hand, and I shall never reveal the truth. My son was proclaimed heir, and I ruled as his regent. My reign was marked by war with rival parties for the throne and numerous murders I engineered.
I am remembered primarily as a figure of cruelty and intrigue.
Gregory of Tours depicts me as ruthlessly murderous and sadistically cruel; in his account, few can rival my monstrousness. Although I did not live to see it, my son's execution of my nemesis (the murdered queen's sister), bore the mark of my hatred for he had the sixty year old woman stretched in agony upon the rack for three entire days, then watched her meet her death chained between four horses that were goaded to the four points of the compass, tearing her body asunder.
I died on the 8th day of December 597 in Paris, France. My tomb is a mosaic figure of marble and copper, situated in Saint Denis Basilica, having come from St. Germain-des-Prés.
Legend says that I was proposed as one of many sources for the folk tale alternatively known as Cinderella, Aschenputtel, Cenerentola or Cendrillion.
It has also been said that I was jealous of my own daughter, who continually declared that she should be mistress instead of me because I began life as a palace maid, while she was of royal blood, being a king's daughter. I waited for my opportunity and under the pretense of magnanimity took her to the treasure-room and showed her the King's jewels in a large chest. Feigning fatigue, I exclaimed "I am weary; put thou in thy hand, and take out what thou mayest find." I thereupon forced down the lid on her neck and would have killed her had not the servants finally rushed to her aid.
Fredegunde
(550 A.D. - 597 A.D)
Frankish Queen
Wife of King Chilperic I of Soissons - Neustria
Regent for her son Chlotar or Lothair II
To this very day, I am considered the most famous dancer in the world.
I was born on January 31, 1881 in St. Petersburg. My mother was a washerwoman and my father was a reserve soldier whom I never knew. From the time I was a very small child, after I attended a perforamnce of Sleeping Beauty, all I wanted was to become a dancer. Two years later, I entered an elite school for classical dancers. The school and its students were under the protection of the highest leader of the land, who was its benefactor. In return, the school expected the highest degree of physical and mental dedication.
But I was considered frail and thin, and even worse, unattractive. Regardless of these physical barriers, I was exceptionally supple and possessed beautiful arched insteps, critical to ballerinas. My love of the dance was exemplified in each step I danced. My talent soon came to the attention of a ballet master who became my most dedicated mentor.
My debut occurred on September 19, 1899. From the very first, I impressed everyone with my expressive abilities. My first tour began in 1907. After that, I was on tour for most of my career. It is said that I travelled over 400,000 miles and was seen by millions all over the world.
In February 1910, I made her first appearance in America at the Metropolitan Opera House.
Although the benefactor of my ballet company approved these early tours, I was forced to return home in the summer of 1914. I was in Germany enroute to London when war was declared on August 2, 1914. I found myself alone and without the protection of my benefactor.
Afterwards, from this time in my life until my death, I continued to make exhaustive, world-wide tours with my own international company. During the early war years, I was in America. In 1917 I travelled to South America. By 1919 I was in Bahia and Salvador. I returned to America in 1920 and in 1923 I took my company to Japan, China, India, Burma, and Egypt. South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand received me in 1926. I entertained British citizens during 1927-1928.
My signature dances were the Bacchanale and my eerily beautiful The Swan.
My popularity grew from my passion for ballet, my good humor, and self-discipline. When I wasn't dancing, which was a rare occasion, I spent my time at Ivy House in Hampstead, London, where I kept a menagerie of exotic birds and animals - including a pair of pet swans.
Victor Dandré, a fellow exile from my home country, was rumoured to be my husband, and if not my husband, definitely my lover.
After a lifetime of incessant performances, the illness of pleurisy claimed my life in The Hague on January 22, 1931. My last request was to have my Swan costume prepared and to, "Play that last measure softly."
Australia and New Zealand both claim they created the famous desert named in my honor. The Australians claim it originated from Chef Bert Sachse, the chef of Perth's Esplanade Hotel where I had once stayed. It is a sweet dessert made with a base of meringue crust topped with whipped cream and fresh fruits.
I was born in 300 BC in ancient Greece, and in today's world, you know me only as a legend. Did I exist? Or did I not? I shall leave it to you to decide. Here is my story:
I was a noblewoman who dreamed of becoming a healer. More than anything, I wanted to practice medicine in an era when women were legally prohibited from the healing arts. The only way I could achieve my dream was to cut my hair and wear men's clothing. Encouraged by my father, I dressed thusly and soon become an avid student of the famous Alexandrian physician, Herophilus where I earned the highest marks.
After I finished my studies, as I walked the streets of Athens, I heard the screams of a woman in the throes of labor. I rushed to assist her. The woman, believing me to be a man, refused to allow me to touch her. Desperate to convince her otherwise, I lifted up my clothes and revealed that I was a woman. She allowed me to deliver her baby. Women everywhere soon flocked to me. To evade the authorities, I dressed as a man, not only during my studies but also whenever I practiced.
When my male colleagues discovered that requests for their services were dwindling, while mine were increasing, they accused me of seducing and raping the women patients.
I was subsequently arrested and charged. At my trial, the leading men of Athens condemned me. To save myself from the death penalty, I revealed I was really a woman. A crowd of my patients declared in front of the temple that if I were executed, they would die with me. The wives of the judges argued, "You are not spouses, but enemies since you are condemning her who discovered health for us."
Under pressure by the crowd, the judges acquitted me and allowed me to continue practicing medicine.
I continued to work mostly with women and have been credited with being one of the first women gynecologists in history.
Whether or not the legend of my life is true, it is a story which the world of medicine has long cherished.
I was married at St Martin-in-the-Fields, London, on 27 October 1633. In 1637 I supported Anne Hutchinson, who preached that God "spoke directly to individuals" rather than only through the clergy. I joined with her and became involved in what was called the "Antinomian heresy," where we organized groups of women and men to study the Bible in contravention of the theocratic law of the Massachusetts Bay Colony.
On October 17, 1637, after nearly four years of marriage, I gave birth to a deformed stillborn baby, who I buried privately.
Because I had sided with Anne Hutchinson in the Antinomian heresy, my husband and I were banished. We settled in Providence, Rhode Island.
Shortly thereafter, the authorities learned of the “monstrous birth,” and Governor Winthrop had it exhumed in March 1638, before a large crowd. He described it thus:
“It was of ordinary bigness; it had a face, but no head, and the ears stood upon the shoulders and were like an ape’s; it had no forehead, but over the eyes four horns, hard and sharp; two of them were above one inch long, the other two shorter; the eyes standing out, and the mouth also; the nose hooked upward; all over the breast and back full of sharp pricks and scales, like a thornback [i.e., a skate or ray], the navel and all the belly, with the distinction of the sex, were where the back should be, and the back and hips before, where the belly should have been; behind, between the shoulders, it had two mouths, and in each of them a piece of red flesh sticking out; it had arms and legs as other children; but, instead of toes, it had on each foot three claws, like a young fowl, with sharp talons.”
Winthrop sent descriptions to numerous correspondents, and accounts were published in England in 1642 and 1644. The deformed birth was considered evidence of the heresies and errors of Antinomianism.
In 1652, we travelled to England, where I joined the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) after hearing the preaching of its founder and feeling that it was in agreement with the ideas that Anne Hutchinson and I held years earlier. I eventually became a Quaker preacher in my own right.
My husband returned to Rhode Island in 1652. I remained in England until 1657. The next year I travelled to Boston to protest the new law banning Quakers, and I was arrested and expelled from the colony. My husband, who had not become a Quaker, was not arrested.
I continued to travel in New England to preach Quakerism, and was arrested in 1658 in New Haven, Connecticut. After my release, I returned to Massachusetts to visit two English Quakers who had been arrested. I was also arrested and then permanently banished from the colony.
From there, I traveled to Massachusetts a third time with a group of Quakers to publicly defy the law, and was again arrested, but this time, I was sentenced to death.
After a short trial, two other Quakers were hanged, but because my husband was a friend of the Governor, he secured a last-minute reprieve, against my wishes, for I had refused to repent and disavow my Quaker faith.
I was forced to return to Rhode Island, then traveled to Long Island, New York to preach, but my conscience led me to return to Massachusetts in 1660 to defy the anti-Quaker law. Despite the pleas of my husband and family, I again refused to repent, and was again convicted and sentenced to death on May 31. The next day, I was hanged on Boston Common for the crime of being a Quaker in Massachusetts. I died a martyr.
My execution is described by Edward Burrough in A Declaration of the Sad and Great Persecution and Martyrdom of the People of God, called Quakers, in New-England, for the Worshipping of God (1661).
My last words before I died were: “Nay, I came to keep bloodguiltiness from you, desireing you to repeal the unrighteous and unjust law made against the innocent servants of the Lord. Nay, man, I am not now to repent. ”
After my death a member of the General Court uttered one of those bitter scoffs which prove the truest of all epitaphs, "She did hang as a flag for others to take example by."
A bronze statue of me created by a Quaker sculptor now stands in front of the Massachusetts state capitol in Boston; a copy stands in front of the Friends Center in downtown Philadelphia, and another in front of Stout Meetinghouse at Earlham College in Richmond, Indiana.
The Scarlet Mantle Mechthild of Ringelheim Book 1 Women of the Ottonian Empire Series
Blessed with the gift of prophecy through dreams, Mechthild of Ringelheim knows she is destined to rise to great heights.
When she marries Heinrich Liudolfing she enters the dazzling, and sometimes treacherous world of the German court.
The turbulent clashes and personal destinies of the people caught in this medieval tale are magnificently interwoven in this sweeping novel of power and passion, loyalty and lies.
ORPHAN OF THE OLIVE TREE
In Medieval Italy, scandal and slander rip apart two families.
Dark secrets, long buried, threaten to destroy life-long friendships.
Twin daughters are separated at birth.
One will live a life of privilege.
The other is abandoned in an olive tree to live a life of humility in a monastery.
Fate intervenes and the truth will be exposed.
A story of a destiny that demands to be discovered!
The Blighted Troth
In 18th century New France, one man and one woman's wedding is prevented and their lives are in danger when an infamous, dangerous overlord threatens anyone who performs their marriage.
A lost ancient treasure. A 100 year family feud. A woman who must choose between two men: one bound by a dying wish, the other bound by desperation. And a passion richer than the bloodstone pendant she wears around her neck.
In medieval Italy, as spirited and stalwart as any man, the brazen Countess Morena is betrothed to the impoverished, black-hearted Count Ernesto; a man desperate to escape his mounting gambling debts by marrying her and laying claim to the ancient treasure secreted somewhere in the underbelly of her castle. Morena meets her match when Amoro, the handsome and brash heir to the Duchy of Genoa, swears an oath upon his father’s grave to claim her as his bride and end the feud between their families. Soon, Amoro’s virile charm awakens the passion in her steadfast heart. But a treacherous plot ensnares them; Ernesto abducts Morena and renders Amoro helpless. Embroiled in a life-and-death chase, Morena learns that not even the devious madness of her captor can destroy her love for Amoro as their hearts unite and their destinies become one.
HEINRICH THE FOWLER
Tenth-century Germany is a divided country, ever at the mercy of its ruthless, power-hungry dukes.
Then Heinrich, Duke of Saxony and Thuringia, meets the virtuous Countess Matilda of Westphalia. Reluctant to wed at first, Matilda slowly grows to love her charismatic and courageous husband who dreams of one day uniting Germany and becoming king. But as Heinrich's attentions turn again and again to waging war upon the enemy Magyars and growing ever more powerful, turmoil plagues him and he is charged with treason.
With a death sentence upon his head, Heinrich fights back until a twist of fate helps him realize his ultimate dream.
The turbulent clashes and the personal destinies of the people caught in this medieval tale are magnificently interwoven in this sweeping novel of power and passion, loyalty and lies.
Amidst bloody wars, scheming dukes, towns under siege, and virtuous women, Heinrich and Matilda conquer the world of their times. History and fiction combine to bring to life this tangled, tempestuous era.
MAMMA MIA: GOOD ITALIAN GIRLS TALK BACK
Growing up an Italian woman in the New World sometimes involves the keeping of secrets, the telling of lies, and the patience of a saint.
In 25 stories, 18 women share their tales of rememberance and resistance - some comic, some tragic, some nostaligic, all true.
Their voices echo from coast to coast, across generations, and across the Atlantic as they talk about living a double life with a private/public split personality. Intimate, inspiring, brave, and confssional, their words reveal women old enough to reminisce yet young enough to revolutionalize.
Balancing between the Old Country and the new, a respect for tradition and the need to break with it, this collection is a rare and surprising blend of humour and candor that promises the perfect conversation starter at the next wedding, funeral, or book club.
A true blue Taurean in every way, Mirella Patzer (nee Sichirollo) was born in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, but grew up in Calgary, a city famous for the Calgary Stampede, oil companies, and the wild west.
Although an avid reader of historical fiction, she never aspired to be an author. But when she discovered the rich World War II history of her mother’s family (the Moro River Campaign was fought on her grandfather's vineyards - (still in the family's possession today) she decided to write about it one day.
She is first generation Italian Canadian who likes a clean house but hates housework, detests winter, and is a mild claustraphobic. She loves books, cooking, writing, and a good helping of tira-mi-su. She retired from her career to care for her young grandson while her daughter pursued a degree in Criminal Justice and later law school.
Her first short story, The Holy Lance, won honourable mention in a writing contest and was included in the Canadian anthology, Tall Tales and Short Stories by Tall Tales Press. Her second short story, Down Three Steps, was featured in the Canadian anthology, Mamma Mia: Good Italian Girls Talk Back.
Mirella is currently working on a novel of the life of Mechthild of Ringleheim, The First Queen of Germany. Meticulously researched and filled with memorable characters, it is the fictionalized biography of one of the most fascinating and influential women of the 10th century. Mirella is contemplating a future novel on the life of Adelaide of Burgundy.
She is also currently at work on another medieval tale of romance entitled Orphan of the Olive Tree. And she is dabbling in an 18th century tale of French Canada entitled Emilie's Betrothal.
She shares her life with her polygraphist husband, two daughters, and a rambunctious little grandson who frequently interrupts her work with a variety of unanticipated, yet humorous calamities and disasters. Her house is brimming with books and toys. For her, life couldn’t get any better.
Voltaire (1694-1778), a famous French author, wrote this love letter to his beloved Olympe Dunover while in prison. Why was he in prison? Because Olympe's mother and the French ambassador disapproved of their relationship, so poor Voltaire was thrown into prison to keep him away from the beautiful and beloved girlfriend. Shortly after he wrote this letter, Voltaire managed to escape by climbing out of the window.
The Hague 1713
I am a prisoner here in the name of the King; they can take my life, but not the love that I feel for you. Yes, my adorable mistress, to-night I shall see you, and if I had to put my head on the block to do it.
For heaven's sake, do not speak to me in such disastrous terms as you write; you must live and be cautious; beware of madame your mother as of your worst enemy. What do I say? Beware of everybody; trust no one; keep yourself in readiness, as soon as the moon is visible; I shall leave the hotel incognito, take a carriage or a chaise, we shall drive like the wind to Sheveningen; I shall take paper and ink with me; we shall write our letters.
If you love me, reassure yourself; and call all your strength and presence of mind to your aid; do not let your mother notice anything, try to have your pictures, and be assured that the menace of the greatest tortures will not prevent me to serve you. No, nothing has the power to part me from you; our love is based upon virtue, and will last as long as our lives. Adieu, there is nothing that I will not brave for your sake; you deserve much more than that. Adieu, my dear heart!
Who doesn’t want to board an Italian luxury cruise ship and sail down the west coast of Italy? That’s what romance author, Mona Rossi, believes and so she organizes such a voyage for her fellow colleagues of the romance fiction industry.
Now, Mona isn’t your typical romance author. A woman of Italian heritage, she is in love with a handsome, stalwart, vampire named Fausto Silvius, who wants to make her his wife. But Mona isn’t certain she wants to enter into a life of vampirism, even if eternal life is one of the benefits. As the cruise departs, treachery plagues Fausto and Mona in the form of a husband and wife team of vampire hunters.
Murder and mayhem and, of course, blood drinking soon ensues. Trouble in the form of Fausto’s ex-wife adds conflict. And who is this terrible ex-wife? Why Lucrezia Borgia herself, who follows her vampire husband through the centuries and refuses to relinquish her claim of him!
In this light-hearted, often comical, paranormal romance, Diana Rubino spices up the pages with sprinklings of her southern Italian backgrounds. From the Catholic Church to rings of garlic, from nefarious members of the mafia to olio e aglio pasta, she truly brings a strong Italian flavour to this novel. Plenty of passionate love scenes add spice to the story.
A Bloody Good Cruise is an entertaining tale with a contemporary, unique plot and zany, colourful characters.
Some of my earliest memories are of this beautiful Alpini song. I remember after weddings or family get togethers, entire tables of people singing and harmonizing this song, while staff urgently cleared tables around us.
My uncle, Pietro Basso, comes from near the Bassano della Grappa region of Italy. My father, Dolfino Sichirollo, is also from the area around Venice, and so these songs were popular in their paese.
It is definitely a mountain song, traditional to the Alpine soldiers there. The words are so simple, yet so beautiful, their poignancy stirs emotions every time I listen to it.
It brings back some of the happiest memories of my childhood. It is such a poignant song and I was thrilled to find a version of it on You Tube for your enjoyment.
Now I will sit back and let this beautiful song transport me into the past.
As I run across the fields of grey,
Will I make it, I hope, I pray.
And now and then I think of home.
The beautiful streets I used to roam.
The house I built by the sea,
There a child waits for me.
A loving mother by her side,
Along the beach we used to stride.
But now I know my uneasy fate.
As I listen,
watch,
and wait.
About Glenn Gregory Kelly
Glenn Gregory Kelly is a young poet and burgeoning author from Calgary, Alberta, Canada. His first work, "A Soldier Away From Home, was written for Remembrance Day and published at age 11. Glenn believes his poetry and literary works are inspired by the beauty that is found in everyday life, expressed by the subtle eb and flow of language.
Those of you who know me, are aware that the Battle of the Moro River near Villa San Leonardo in Abruzzi Italy occurred amidst my maternal grandfather's grapevines, land my family still owns and cherishes today. Due to my grandfather's diligence, his entire family survived the bombing of their home and the warfare in their back yard by fleeing to nearby caves that flanked the banks of the Moro River. There they lived for 8 long, hungry months, surviving on the charity of Canadian and U.S. soldiers and whatever else they could forage from the land.
When I first heard this poem, it moved me deeply, especially because the young talent behind it was only 11 years old when he wrote it. I am grateful to him for allowing me to publish it on my blog.
By virtue of this poem, and in honor of Rememberance Day, we pay homage to the many civilians and soldiers who found themselves together in such a tiny, unlikely village in cold rainy month of November of 1943.
My sincerest thanks to Glenn Gregory Kelly, who willingly allowed me to publish his beautiful words and to permit me to use it in my own, personal way on behalf of my family. It is a priceless gift and a wonderful treasure, a fitting tribute to the valiant.
As I run across the fields of grey,
Will I make it, I hope, I pray.
And now and then I think of home.
The beautiful streets I used to roam.
The house I built by the sea,
There a child waits for me.
A loving mother by her side,
Along the beach we used to stride.
But now I know my uneasy fate.
As I listen,
watch,
and wait.
About Glenn Gregory Kelly
Glenn Gregory Kelly is a young poet and burgeoning author from Calgary, Alberta, Canada. His first work, "A Soldier Away From Home, was written for Remembrance Day and published at age 11. Glenn believes his poetry and literary works are inspired by the beauty that is found in everyday life, expressed by the subtle eb and flow of language.
Those of you who know me, are aware that the Battle of the Moro River near Villa San Leonardo in Abruzzi Italy occurred amidst my maternal grandfather's grapevines, land my family still owns and cherishes today. Due to my grandfather's diligence, his entire family survived the bombing of their home and the warfare in their back yard by fleeing to nearby caves that flanked the banks of the Moro River. There they lived for 8 long, hungry months, surviving on the charity of Canadian and U.S. soldiers and whatever else they could forage from the land.
When I first heard this poem, it moved me deeply, especially because the young talent behind it was only 11 years old when he wrote it. I am grateful to him for allowing me to publish it on my blog.
By virtue of this poem, and in honor of Rememberance Day, we pay homage to the many civilians and soldiers who found themselves together in such a tiny, unlikely village in cold rainy month of November of 1943.
My sincerest thanks to Glenn Gregory Kelly, who willingly allowed me to publish his beautiful words and to permit me to use it in my own, personal way on behalf of my family. It is a priceless gift and a wonderful treasure, a fitting tribute to the valiant.
Today is the anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald. I thought it would be fitting to remember the lost lives of that dreadful accident.
The SS Edmund Fitzgerald (nicknamed "Mighty Fitz," "The Fitz," or "The Big Fitz") was an American Great Lakes freighter launched on June 8, 1958. Until 1971 she was the largest ship on the Great Lakes.
Although she had reported having some difficulties during a gale on Lake Superior, the Fitzgerald sank suddenly on November 10, 1975 in 530 feet (162 m) of water without sending any distress signals. The site of the loss is: 46°59.9′N 85°06.6′W / 46.9983°N 85.11°W / 46.9983; -85.11, in Canadian waters approximately 17 miles (15 nmi; 27 km) from the entrance to Whitefish Bay. All 29 hands in the crew perished, presumably by drowning. The incident is the most famous disaster in the history of Great Lakes shipping, and is the subject of Gordon Lightfoot's hit song, "The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald."
Over 15,000 people attended the Fitzgerald's launch. The event was troublesome. When Mrs. Edmund Fitzgerald christened the boat by smashing a champagne bottle over the bow, it took her three swings to break the bottle. The launch was delayed 36 minutes while the shipyard crew struggled to release the keel blocks. Upon launching sideways into the water, the boat crashed violently into a dock.
The SS Fitzgerald left Superior, Wisconsin on the afternoon of Sunday, November 9, 1975 under Captain Ernest M. McSorley. She was enroute to the steel mill on Zug Island, near Detroit, Michigan, with a full cargo of taconite. A second freighter, Arthur M. Anderson, destined for Gary, Indiana out of Two Harbors, Minnesota, joined up with Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald, being the faster ship, took the lead while Anderson trailed not far behind.
Crossing Lake Superior at about 13 knots (15 mph/24 km/h), the boats encountered a massive winter storm, reporting winds in excess of 50 knots (58 mph; 93 km/h) and waves as high as 35 feet (10 m). Because of the storm, the Soo Locks at Sault Ste. Marie were closed. The freighters altered their courses northward, seeking shelter along the Canadian coast. Later, they would cross to Whitefish Bay to approach the locks.
Late in the afternoon of Monday, November 10, sustained winds of 50 knots were observed across eastern Lake Superior. Anderson was struck by a 75-knot hurricane-force gust. At 3:30 pm Fitzgerald radioed Anderson to report a minor list developing and top-side damage including the loss of radar. Visibility was poor due to heavy snow, and the Coast Guard warned all ships to find safe harbor. Two of the "Fitzgerald's" six bilge pumps were running continuously to discharge shipped water. The lighthouse and navigational radio beacon at Whitefish Point had also been knocked out by the storm. Fitzgerald was ahead of Anderson at the time, effectively blind; therefore, she slowed to come within 10 miles range so she could receive radar guidance from the other ship.
For a time Anderson directed the Fitzgerald toward the relative safety of Whitefish Bay. At 5:45 pm, Captain McSorley radioed another ship, Avafors, to report that Fitzgerald was suffering a bad list, had lost her radars, and had seas washing over her decks. McSorley described the situation as, "One of the worst seas I've ever been in."
The last communication from the doomed ship came at approximately 7:10 pm, when Anderson notified Fitzgerald of an upbound ship and asked how she was doing. McSorley reported, "We are holding our own." A few minutes later, she apparently sank; no distress signal was received. Ten minutes later Anderson could neither raise Fitzgerald by radio, nor detect her on radar. At 8:32 pm, Anderson informed the U.S. Coast Guard of its concern for the ship.
Once Anderson noted the loss of Fitzgerald, a search was launched for survivors. The initial search consisted of the Arthur M. Anderson, and a second freighter, SS William Clay Ford. The efforts of a third freighter, the Canadian vessel Hilda Marjanne, were foiled by the weather. The U.S. Coast Guard launched three aircraft, but could not mobilize any ships. A Coast Guard buoy tender, Woodrush, was able to launch within two and a half hours, but took a day to arrive. The search recovered debris, including lifeboats and rafts, but no survivors.
The loss of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald has been attritubted to a rogue wave. Reports show three large waves were detected, two of which were reported by the Anderson. As per the investigation, it was theorized that the Fitzgerald was badly battered by the first two waves, further damaging the hatch covers. It was surmised ultimately that the Fitzgerald took on water through the damaged cargo hold covers, which flooded the ore cargo and severely stressed the ship's hull, and was then overwhelmed by the third wave that snapped the weakened ship in half.
The day after the wreck, Mariners' Church in Detroit rang its bell 30 times; once for each life lost, and a 30th ring for all other sailors lost in previous voyages of all other U.S. ships. The church continues to hold an annual memorial, reading the names of the crewmen and ringing the church bell. On the 12th of November 2006, two days after the 31st anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald, the church broadened its memorial ceremony to include the more than 6,000 lives lost on the Great Lakes. In 2006, the bell at Mariners' Church tolled eight times, not the usual 29: five times for the 5 Great Lakes, a sixth time for the St. Clair and Detroit rivers, a seventh for the St. Lawrence Seaway and an eighth time for military personnel whose lives were lost.
Edmund Fitzgerald's crew of 29 on her final voyage included:
Last, First Position Age Hometown
Armagost, Michael E. Third Mate 37 Iron River, Wisconsin
Beetcher, Fred J. Porter 56 Superior, Wisconsin
Bentsen, Thomas D. Oiler 23 St. Joseph, Michigan
Bindon, Edward F. First Assistant Engineer 47 Fairport Harbor, Ohio
Borgeson, Thomas D. Maintenance Man 41 Duluth, Minnesota
Champeau, Oliver J. Third Assistant Engineer 41 Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin
Church, Nolan S. Porter 55 Silver Bay, Minnesota
Cundy, Ransom E. Watchman 53 Superior, Wisconsin
Edwards, Thomas E. Second Assistant Engineer 50 Oregon, Ohio
Haskell, Russell G. Second Assistant Engineer 40 Millbury, Ohio
Holl, George J. Chief Engineer 60 Cabot, Pennsylvania
Hudson, Bruce L. Deck Hand 22 North Olmsted, Ohio
Kalmon, Allen G. Second Cook 43 Washburn, Wisconsin
MacLellan, Gordon F. Wiper 30 Clearwater, Florida
Mazes, Joseph W. Special Maintenance Man 59 Ashland, Wisconsin
McCarthy, John H. First Mate 62 Bay Village, Ohio
McSorley, Ernest M. Captain 63 Toledo, Ohio
O'Brien, Eugene W. Wheelsman 50 Toledo, Ohio
Peckol, Karl A. Watchman 20 Ashtabula, Ohio
Poviach, John J. Wheelsman 59 Bradenton, Florida
Pratt, James A. Second Mate 44 Lakewood, Ohio
Rafferty, Robert C. Steward 62 Toledo, Ohio
Rippa, Paul M. Deck Hand 22 Ashtabula, Ohio
Simmons, John D. Wheelsman 62 Ashland, Wisconsin
Spengler, William J. Watchman 59 Toledo, Ohio
Thomas, Mark A. Deck Hand 21 Richmond Heights, Ohio
Walton, Ralph G. Oiler 58 Fremont, Ohio
Weiss, David E. Cadet 22 Agoura, California
Wilhelm, Blaine H. Oiler 52 Moquah, Wisconsin
To read the entire article, visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SS_Edmund_Fitzgerald
Ever since I was a child, I've been fascinated with women who choose to live a life of seclusion and sacrifice in a convent or monastery. So when I saw this novel by Sarah Dunant, one of my favourite authors, I immediately ordered it.
The novel explores how many women were forced to enter monasteries in Renaissance Italy, and its effects on the cloister and the individuals who lived therein. Meticulously researched, I found the entire novel fascinating. It is a tale well told and one I will definitely keep on my book shelf as an all time favourite.
I am the Queen of Thailand, married to the king who reigned from 1549 to 1569. All consider me to be a heroine of Thailand, because I sacrificed my life while trying to save my husband during a battle.
