All language subtitles for ss cedarville

But only moments after stepping aboard,
Elmer left the ship for good.

He would never sail again.

Only one year later, the Cedarville
would meet her own tragic fate.

In 1927 the Great Lakes Engineering
Works shipyard in River Rouge, Michigan,

same yard that would build the Edmund
Fitzgerald 30 years later, was

commissioned to build a new bulk carrier
for the Pittsburgh Steamship Company, a

subsidiary of the United States Steel
Corporation.

Labeled hull number 255, the new
freighter was designed to carry iron

She wouldn't be the largest on the
lakes, but she would come close, with a

length of 603 .9 feet or 184 meters.

in a beam of 60 .2 feet or 18 .3 meters.

Launched on April 9, 1927, she was
originally named the AF Harvey.

The Harvey was nearly identical to
several of the bulk carriers that

service at around the same time.

She was equipped with large box -shaped
cargo holds designed to efficiently

deliver iron ore to steel mills.

Her power was generated by three coal
-fired Scotch marine boilers that fed a

single triple expansion engine that
could achieve 2 ,200 horsepower.

She was operated by a crew of 35.

The AF Harvey entered service in May
1927, but only a year into her career

ran into trouble near Detour, Michigan.

Shrouded in heavy fog, she collided with
the whaleback steamer John Erickson.

While damage to the Harvey appeared
minimal, the Erickson had to be beached

prevent the ship from sinking.

The Harvey was able to reach the tour
under her own power.

Repairs were made, and she was soon
returned to service.

The Erickson was also refloated and
repaired.

She was briefly re -registered to the
home port of New York, though she never

left the Great Lakes.

In 1956, she was transferred to the
Bradley Transportation Fleet.

part of the Michigan Limestone Division
of U .S. Steel.

Her registry was returned to the Port of
Duluth, Minnesota, though she operated

out of Roger City, Michigan.

During her winter layup at the end of
1956, she underwent a major overhaul at

the Defoe Shipbuilding Company in Bay
City, Michigan.

This refit converted her from an iron
ore carrier to a self -unloading

and coal carrier.

Her cargo holds were equipped with a new
hopper bottom and two conveyor belts

that ran the length of the ship.

These would carry stone to a forward
-mounted bucket elevator that lifted

materials to a 250 -foot self -loading
boom mount just aft of her forward

cabins.

While this equipment reduced her overall
cargo capacity, it made her

significantly more efficient and
versatile, able to deliver cargo pretty

anywhere without the need for costly and
slow shore -based unloading equipment.

As part of the refit, she was painted
gray to match the Bradley fleet livery

renamed Cedarville after the port in
Michigan.

The Cedarville was also equipped with a
modern new funnel.

She re -entered service at the start of
the 1957 season and operated alongside

her new fleetmate, the slightly larger
Carl D. Bradley.

Elmer Fleming's unexpected departure
from the Cedarville on March 27, 1964

reshuffled the ship's deck crew.

First mate Martin Jopich, a sailor with
18 years of experience on the Great

Lakes, was elevated to captain.

While Jopich was liked by his crew, some
found his sudden promotion a mystery.

An even greater mystery is why exactly
Fleming left the ship that day.

Some believe that the foul weather at
the time triggered the trauma that he

experienced when the Bradley went down
years before.

While he had been deceased since, the
disaster left him with a nervous

disposition.

Who wouldn't after surviving what he
did?

Maybe there was something about the
Cedarville that didn't feel right.

Either way, the ship's new captain
assumed command and completed the

In October, Jopich grounded the ship in
the St. Mary's River.

The ship required dry docking to patch
the damage.

By the start of the 1965 season, it was
clear to the crew of the Cedarville that

her hull was rapidly aging.

As far back as the spring of 1961, a
Coast Guard inspection found serious

deterioration of her hull plating and
ordered replacements of the affected

areas, starting 80 feet after the bow on
both sides.

Her hull was made up of 3 -8 inch steel
plating.

These plates proved susceptible to
corrosion, causing thinning, pitting,

other signs of weakness.

Because the cost of the repairs ordered
by the Coast Guard would exceed $124

,000 and could potentially disrupt the
Cedarville's busy schedule, the previous

captain requested permission to delay
the repairs until a more convenient

The request was granted, and the work
was put off.

Officials from Lloyd's Register of
Shipping subsequently pushed the Bradley

Transportation Company to invest in the
repairs after urging from the ship's

insurance underwriters.

But these repairs were pushed off
indefinitely.

Even when the Cedarville was dry docked
after grounding in October 1964, the

company refused to invest in replacing
her weakened whole plates.

In 1961, the ship was reboilered.

improving her efficiency and slightly
increasing her power.

This was the last major work done on the
ship before the 1965 season.

Captain Jopich and his crew were well
aware that the 40 -year -old ship was

showing her age, but these issues were
easy to ignore.

These ships were strong, and experienced
captains prided themselves on pushing

them to their limit.

The Bradley Transportation Fleet was
responsible for delivering limestone to

vast U .S. Steel Empire, a vital
ingredient in steelmaking, used to

impurities during the blast process.

Captains in the fleet were given
extremely optimistic schedules and

requirements with no regard for weather
or the complications of operating an

aging ship.

While it was ultimately up to the
captain to keep his crew safe and decide

they left port, it was clear that missed
deadlines low tonnage numbers, and

costly maintenance work could end a
master's career with the company.

The culture of prioritizing profits over
safety was pervasive on the lakes and

continued well after even high -profile
losses like the Carl D. Bradley and the

Daniel J. Morrell.

So while Captain Jopich, still a
relatively new captain in the fleet,

would have preferred new hull plating,
he decided that the ship was seaworthy

and the Cedarville began the 1965
season.

with a hefty increase in the tonnage
required by the company that year.

But the weather didn't care about U .S.
Steel's limestone quotas, and a cold

front soon swept through the region.

The recently cleared Straits of Mackinac
rose over, and despite Captain Jopich's

efforts, the Cedarville found herself
iced in.

She would have to wait until April 1965,
when the weather began to finally

cooperate, to truly get the season
underway.

After a handful of successful runs,
Captain Jopich relaxed a bit.

But the pressure to keep up was ever
-present, and no doubt played a constant

role in his mind.

Now more than ever, it is important to
bring together quickly and efficiently

the jobs to be done and the men and
women who can do them.

In April 1965, another vessel half a
world away left Denmark bound for the

American Great Lakes by way of the St.
Lawrence Seaway.

Commanded by Captain Rasmus Hoagland,
the six -year -old MV Toptalsjord was

constructed in Gothenburg, Sweden and
operated by a Norwegian shipping

The 6 ,000 -ton, 423 -foot or 129 -meter
-long cargo ship was built to withstand

the fury of the North Atlantic and the
brutal North Sea.

Her bow was reinforced to break through
ice, and she was powered by a single

diesel engine that could achieve 6 ,500
horsepower.

Her five cargo holds were loaded with
European goods bound for Canada and the

United States, and she was scheduled to
return to her home port of Oslo, Norway

with a load of grain from Chicago and
Port Arthur.

Opened in April 1959, the St. Lawrence
Seaway allowed ships with drafts as deep

as 26 .9 feet or 8 .2 meters to operate
between the Great Lakes and the Atlantic

Ocean, giving access to much larger
ocean -going vessels.

The Topdell's Fjord arrived in the Great
Lakes in mid -April 1965 after battling

a series of squalls on the North
Atlantic.

She would spend the next few weeks
navigating the series of congested locks

waterways that connected the Great Lakes
as she unloaded her cargo and prepared

for her return voyage.

By the morning of May 7th, she was
sailing up Lake Michigan, bound for Port

Arthur, Ontario.

The night before, a heavy fog had set in
over the Straits of Mackinac, reducing

visibility to only a few hundred feet.

So dense that captains of the Long Lake
freighters couldn't even see the aft

ends of their ship.

as they made their way through the fog.

Captains had to rely on their radios,
radar, and the rules of the sea, as well

as their senses, as they listened for
foghorns in the eerie abyss.

Still, they plowed forward, anxious to
keep on schedule.

The Toptal's fjord was no different as
she sailed east.

Captain Hoagland monitored the situation
closely, manually operating the ship's

fog whistle himself.

Letting out three short blasts at
regular intervals in keeping with Great

regulations, as they neared the shadowy
outline of the Mackinac Bridge that

loomed somewhere in the fog.

At the end of each school year,
recruiters from the Bradley

Company would visit Rogers City High
School looking to sign new crew members

their Great Lakes fleet.

For young graduates who couldn't afford
or didn't have the grades or desire to

attend college, a job on the lakes could
be a pretty solid gig.

Room and board were provided during
voyages, there was plenty of time off,

the pay was decent.

Many young men would spend a couple of
years on the lakes while they saved up

money and planned the next chapter of
their lives.

For others, it was the start of a
lifelong career.

When Dave Erickson graduated in 1959, he
signed on with the shipping company.

New crew members were placed wherever
they were needed, and for the first

of years, Dave moved around from the
deck crew to the engine room.

He eventually realized that off -duty
weeks tended to be more consistent for

galley crews, and a few years into his
career he became a porter on the

Cedarville.

His job involved tending to the
captain's and chief engineer's room, the

officer's dining room, and helping
prepare meals.

Before dawn on May 7, 1965, Dave
reported to the Cedarville and Rogers

Michigan.

The ship was scheduled to carry 14 ,411
tons of open -hearth limestone to Gary,

Indiana.

The ship left port at 5 a .m., giving
Dave some time before his shift started

7, so he went to his bunk and took a
quick nap.

The mood on board was cheerful.

The crew loved overnight breaks in their
home port where they could spend the

evening with friends and family.

After a quick breakfast, Dave headed to
the captain's cabin to begin his shift.

As he headed forward, the fog was so
thick that he couldn't see the other end

the 600 -foot ship.

The foghorn blared at regular intervals.

It was cold, around 41 degrees
Fahrenheit.

As he finished his work up front, he
headed back aft to help in the galley.

He could hear the foghorns of other
ships hissing near the straits.

The ship had a vegetable bin on the port
side of the main deck, just outside the

galley.

Dave stepped out to get some potatoes
when another porter, Jerome Kersick,

Hey Dave, look at this.

Dave joined him at the railing and
looked out to where Jerome pointed near

bow of the ship.

A dark mass loomed in the fog, heading
straight for the ship.

The Cedarville let out a long blast just
as the ship emerged from the fog and

slammed into their port side.

Dave didn't remember much noise from the
collision, only that the ship shuddered

like it had been struck by a large wave.

The ship's bow remained lodged in their
side as the Cedarville continued

forward.

Dave and Jerome watched for a moment,
and then realized that they should go

below and grab their life jacket.

They shared a cabin and quickly got
prepared as the ship's warning alarm

blaring.

Dave then went to the cabins around him
to make sure that no one was sleeping.

As he returned to the deck, he heard the
sound of the other ship finally break

free and scrape along the side of
Cedarville.

It passed so close that he could almost
reach out and touch it, before it once

again disappeared into the fog.

He briefly visited his boss to tell him
what happened before heading forward to

get a better look at the damage.

Some of the railing and deck plates were
buckled, but most of the damage seemed

to be below the waterline.

He could hear water rushing into the
ship beneath him.

The deck crew lowered an emergency
collision tarpaulin over the damaged

try and slow the flooding, but the hole
was too large and the tarp was almost

immediately sucked into the ship.

A port list was developing, and water
was pumped into the starboard ballast

tanks to level out the ship.

But it was clear to Dave and the rest of
the crew that the Cedarville was in

serious danger.

The order was given to begin preparing
the lifeboats while the captain made an

attempt to beach the ship.

Dave reported to his assigned station at
lifeboat number one on the starboard

side, and helped uncover and lower the
boat to the main deck.

He looked to the bow, barely visible in
the fog.

The forward decks were already awash,
and the ship was beginning to lift the

starboard.

Some of the starboard ballast tanks were
venting water.

Cedarville was already making her final
plunge.

The crew remained calm but moved
urgently as the bow pushed below the

the ship rolled further to starboard.

Dave jumped into the lifeboat, joining
several of his crewmates.

But as soon as he got into the boat, he
heard shouts that it wouldn't release

from the falls.

In a split -second decision, he jumped
into the water, just as the ship

capsized, rolling on top of the boat and
the crew members inside it.

In the water, Dave felt the shudder as
the Cedarville's bow hit the lake bed

the roar of her limestone cargo spilling
out of the ship.

After what felt like an eternity, he
finally made it to the surface.

The cold water made it hard to catch his
breath.

He looked for the ship, but he only saw
about 150 feet of the bottom of her

hull.

He saw the portside lifeboat still
attached to the capsized ship.

Another crewman desperately banged at
its releases with an oar, finally

releasing the boat just as the
Cedarville disappeared beneath the

As he watched his ship vanish in the
churning lake, the reality of what just

happened set in.

Dave was cold and numb, held up by just
his life jacket.

He could hear the sounds of foghorns
from other ships in the distance.

He heard men screaming for help all
around him.

Finally, he saw a life raft and swam
toward it.

The men on the raft helped lift him out
of the water.

He was already too weak to pull himself
up.

once he was on the raft he tried to warm
himself up his crewmates threw ropes in

the water and helped others climb aboard
the raft enveloped by the surreal soup

of fog the men waited

On the bridge that morning, Captain
Chopich commanded the Cedarville as they

sailed for the Straits of Mackinac.

Visibility was about as bad as it could
get, but the ship continued forward with

the help of RCA radar and a radio
direction finder to help establish a

The ship was also equipped with a gyro
compass and a standard radio telephone

that was manned by the captain.

All of the navigation, communication,
and operating equipment was in working

order.

While visibility progressively worsened
since leaving Cal State, Cedarville

continued up Lake Huron at full speed,
approximately 11 .7 miles per hour.

As they neared the Mackinac Bridge,
Captain Jopich established contact with

downbound Benson Ford.

A passing arrangement was verbally
agreed upon, and the two ships safely

about half a mile apart from each other.

The fog at the time was so thick that
none of the Cedarville's lookouts could

see the Benson Ford as they passed.

About three or four miles from the
Mackinac Bridge, Captain Jopich made

contact with a German vessel called the
Weissenberg and verbally established a

port -to -port passing agreement with
her captain, Werner May.

As the Weissenberg passed under the
bridge, Captain May warned them that

was a Norwegian vessel not far ahead of
them, heading for the Cedarville.

Captain Jopich tried to contact the
ship, but he was unsuccessful.

Third mate Charles Cook, who watched the
radar screen, warned that the other

ship was getting closer.

Accounts of what happened on the bridge
over the next few minutes differ.

Captain Jopich would later claim that he
had already reduced his speed to slow

ahead. There's no other record of this,
and others on the bridge at the time.

including wheelsman Leonard Gabriziak,
maintained that the ship was only

to half speed after failing to make
contact with the Norwegian vessel.

They could now clearly hear the other
ship's fog whistle on the Cedarville.

As the range between the two ships
decreased, Captain Jopich ordered a

course, turning to the right.

But the other ship continued forward.

He then let out one long blast to signal
a port -to -port passing.

Tension mounted as the captain continued
trying to reach the other ship by

radio.

Then, the lookout stationed on the port
bridge wing shouted out, There she is!

Another lookout stationed on the bow saw
her too as the ship emerged from the

fog. He shouted, Half a block away!

By then, wheelsman Gabriziak could see
her too, only about 100 feet ahead of

them and closing in fast.

Captain Chopich immediately ordered slow
ahead.

Just as he issued the order, Charles
Cook shouted, Captain, we're going to

In a last -ditch effort to avoid the
collision, Jopich ordered full ahead and

hard right turn.

But it was too late.

On the Topdell's Fjord, Captain Hoagland
sailed at a reduced speed as the

distance between the two ships closed.

He maintained his heading and ordered
his engines dead slow, only about three

four knots.

They could hear the other ship's fog
signals ahead of them.

It appeared that they would pass on
their starboard side.

Captain Hoagland stood outside the
wheelhouse door on his starboard bridge

when he heard the long blast of a ship's
whistle.

Suddenly, the Cedarville appeared in the
fog, only about 250 feet away, passing

right in front of them.

Hoagland ordered his engines reversed,
but again, it was too late.

The reinforced bow of the Toptal's fjord
sliced into the Cedarville at an almost

perfect right angle on her port side, at
her No. 7 hatch at 9 .55 on the morning

of May 7, 1965.

Her bow remained lodged in the ship for
a few moments before the Cedarville's

forward momentum pulled the two ships
apart.

The Cedarville then disappeared into the
fog.

Despite her damaged bow, the Toptal
Fjord's crew was unharmed and the ship

not in any serious danger of sinking.

Her two lifeboats were launched to
search for survivors, but no one was

After a few hours, it was confirmed that
other ships were able to aid the

Cedarville, and the damaged Norwegian
ship sailed to see St. Marie.

They were lucky.

The true horror transpired only a few
hundred feet away in the fog.

It was clear to Captain Jopich that the
damage to his ship was serious, but in

the moments after the collision, he felt
that it was possible to save the

Cedarville.

He ordered the engine stopped and
sounded a general alarm, then radioed a

message and dropped the ship's port
anchor.

The accident was reported to the
Mackinac Island Coast Guard Station and

nearby Weissenberg.

Soon, Captain Jopich learned that the
ship was taking on a tremendous amount

water. and the emergency collision
tarpaulin failed to slow the flooding.

He then ordered all crew not assisting
in the engine room or bridge to report

their musk stations and prepare the
lifeboats.

Then Captain Jobich decided that he
would make a run for it and try to beach

sinking ship.

The anchor was raised and the engines
were ordered full ahead.

The starboard ballast tanks were filled
to try to even out the lift.

But instead of heading for a closer
beach or shoal, Captain Choppage set his

sights on Mackinac City.

Third mate Charles Cook quickly plotted
a course that would prove both wrong and

hopelessly over -optimistic.

The near -shallow Graham Shoal was only
about one mile away and perhaps

reachable, while Old Mackinac Point was
an out -of -reach 2 .2 miles away.

The forward motion only pushed the
Cedarville's bow deeper.

and it was abundantly clear that the
ship would be gone in only a matter of

minutes.

Still, no order to abandon the ship was
ever given.

Soon the Cedarville began listing to
starboard as their bow plunged deeper.

Leonard Gabriziak was the only one on
the bridge to don a life jacket

immediately after the collision.

As he escaped the flooding ship, he saw
third mate Charles Cook struggling to

put his life jacket on.

He lost sight of him when the ship
heeled over.

Charles Cook's body was never found.

Captain Jopich was pulled from the
water, clinging to his life jacket.

Immediately after receiving the
Cedarville distress calls, Captain May

German freighter Weissenberg followed
the ailing ship closely.

While they could not see the ship go
down in the fog, they knew what happened

when the Cedarville disappeared from
their radar screen, and they immediately

launched their lifeboats to search for
survivors.

Dave Erickson's raft was soon pulled
alongside the Weissenberg.

The German crew helped them aboard and
immediately gave the men blankets and

warm clothing, as well as hot coffee and
tea. As Dave warmed up and regained his

senses, he saw the German sailors
performing CPR on some of his fellow

members.

Two would die on the Weissenberg from
shock and hypothermia.

Out of the 35 crew members on the
Cedarville, 10 lost their lives.

All but one of the engine crew on duty
at the time went down with the ship.

The survivors were soon transferred to
the Coast Guard Cutter Mackinac and

brought to local hospitals.

Dave was treated for his injuries and
then driven home to Roger City where he

was reunited with his wife and two
children.

He and his fellow survivors spent the
rest of their lives trying to understand

what happened that day.

In the immediate aftermath of the
sinking, U .S. Steel went into overdrive

protect its reputation after yet another
one of its ships met an untimely end.

The loss of the Carl D. Bradley was
still fresh in people's memory, and

accident blamed on poor maintenance
could prove costly.

Fortunately for them, the aging,
underpowered, poorly designed ship,

their lack of a safety culture, was
easily overshadowed by the actions of

Captain Jopich.

While U .S. Steel initially tried to
blame the accident on the crew of the

Toptal Fjord, an investigation by the
United States Coast Guard quickly turned

its focus to what happened on the
Cedarville.

U .S. Steel's lawyer attempted to invoke
the Fifth Amendment or the right to

remain silent on behalf of Captain
Jopich, but a federal judge ruled that

plea did not apply under maritime law,
and the captain had to submit to

questioning.

His testimony not only contradicted the
testimony given by other surviving crew

members, but he also contradicted what
was recorded in the ship's logs and

documentation.

The inquiry found his testimony to be
self -serving and largely false.

Ultimately, it was ruled that Captain
Hoagland and the Toptalsfjord operated

with reasonable caution given the
conditions, by reducing their speed and

observing established maritime passing
rules.

Blame for the accident and loss of life
fell on Captain Jopich.

and he eventually pleaded guilty to the
charges against his master's license.

It was determined that the Cedarville,
moving at her top speed, was sailing far

too fast given the low visibility and
volume of ship traffic.

Captain Jopich failed to establish a
radar plot or follow established track

lines, despite ample warning over radio,
radar, and through fog signals that

another ship was approaching.

Once the collision occurred, Captain
Jopich failed to realize the gravity of

situation, and while his attention to
ground the ship was reasonable, he

to establish their position and plot a
course to the nearest shallow.

He squandered those critical moments
when he might have been able to save all

his crew and his ship.

Perhaps most damning, he failed to issue
an order to abandon ship.

Nearly all of his engine crew remained
at their stations long after it was

abundantly clear.

that the ship was doomed.

Though he avoided criminal liability,
Captain Jopich was stripped of his

master's license.

He would never sail again.

Questions remain over the level to which
U .S. Steel and its culture of profits

over safety at the time contributed to
the disaster.

Many victims' families maintained that
the company created an unsafe work

environment. and questioned whether
Jopich was ever fit to serve as a

the first place.

Legal battles over liability stretched
on for years.

The inquiry also determined that the
crew of the Weissenberg acted

Captain May remained in the area even
after Captain Jopich declined his help

immediately after the collision.

They acted quickly to get men out of the
water as soon as possible.

With the low visibility and cold
temperatures, It's all but certain that

death toll would have been significantly
higher if not for their actions.

But in the end, the Cedarville became
just another casualty of the lakes,

overshadowed by greater horrors.

The wreck lies upside down on the bed of
Lake Huron, a popular, albeit

dangerous, diving site, a ghostly
reminder of the risks sailors take every

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