Monster storm of 1958 brought a most memorable moment

By Davis Helberg

The Sundew lies quietly today at her retirement home in Duluth's Minnesota slip, offering guided tours for visitors and new lookout stations for seagulls on popcorn patrol.

But if ships have memories, the Sundew now has time to reflect on her 60 years of life on the Lakes. And the most memorable event has to have been the monster storm in 1958 when some thought she might never return to Charlevoix, Mich., then her home port.

On that day — Tuesday, Nov. 18, 1958 — the 636-foot laker Carl D. Bradley issued a Mayday call at about 5:30 p.m. while just off Boulder Reef in the northern reaches of Lake Michigan. Within minutes, the Charlevoix Lifeboat Station notified Sundew Captain Harold D. Muth and as many of the crew as it could reach. On 12-hour standby status, Capt. Muth and a partial crew scrambled to the ship and by 6:20 p.m. the 180-foot cutter was underway, plunging into the jaws of a violent storm. The fact was that the Bradley had broken in half and gone down moments after her Mayday. The fate of her the crew, however, was still unknown.

Some 14 hours later, shortly after 8 o'clock the next morning — after a wild night in earnest combat with waves of 25 to 30 feet, sometimes higher, and winds gusting up to 65 miles per hour — the Sundew came upon two men clinging to a life raft near High Island. These would be the Bradley's only survivors.

The sinking of the Carl D. Bradley was as shocking to the Great Lakes community in 1958 as would be the later losses of the Daniel J. Morrell (in 1966 on Lake Huron, with one survivor out of a crew of 29) and the Edmund Fitzgerald (in 1975 on Lake Superior, with no survivors out of a crew of 29).

Thirty-three men lost their lives in the Bradley tragedy. Twenty-three of the victims lived in one town — Rogers City, Mich. — as did the two survivors, chief mate Elmer Fleming

The passage of time, along with the amazing tale of the Morrell’s sole survivor, Dennis Hale — who miraculously endured 38 hours on an ice-covered raft in a huge storm — and the legend that now surrounds the ill-fated Fitzgerald, have combined to obscure the story of the Bradley and the Sundew’s valiant search and rescue mission.

Coincidental with the Sundew’s decommissioning, however, a book was published in late 2003 that, for the first time, tells the tale of the survivors from a firsthand perspective. “If We Make It ’Til Daylight” is the story of deckwatch Frank Mays as told to teachers/videographers/divers Pat and Jim Stayer and Tim Juhl of the Port Huron, Mich., area. It was published by Out of the Blue Productions, Lexington, Mich., and is available at many bookstores in the Duluth-Superior area and elsewhere.

Additionally, a story focusing on the Sundew’s role, by Warren J. Toussaint, the ship’s hospital corpsman, is featured in the May-June issue of the “Nor’Easter,” published by the Lake Superior Marine Museum Association. The story originally appeared in the April-May 1977 edition of “Shipmates” published by the Coast Guard Ninth District, Cleveland.

Visitors to the Sundew, now at ease alongside the dock, might try to imagine the ordeal of that night in November 1958. One crew member quoted in “If We Make It ’Til Daylight” recalls:

“As we fought our way through the storm, our bow would be way, way down when the next wave would appear as a huge wall of water that would bury the ship. For a moment, you felt you were on a submarine, then the mass of water would rush to the scuppers, where it escaped out the sides of the ship. A moment later, we’d be way up high on the wave’s crest, and it started over again … hour after hour. All this time, the ship was rolling violently from port to starboard and back. Throw in the howl of the raging wind, the freezing rain pounding against the ship, the clatter of loose objects slamming about, and you have a little idea of what it was like.”