Patricia Sutton, first-place winner of CWW’s Tofte-Wright Children’s Literary Award, captured the little-known story of a ship disaster on the Great Lakes in her book, Capsized. Below are her remarks at the Awards Banquet upon receiving her award, followed by the excerpt she read from her winning book.
Thank you to the Council for Wisconsin Writers for honoring me with the Tofte-Wright Children’s Literary Award. I was thrilled to be nominated alongside Stef Wade and A Place for Pluto. As a debut author, it came as an unexpected and delightful surprise. I am grateful to the Council for shining a light on Capsized! The Forgotten Story of the SS Eastland Disaster—the greatest loss of life on the Great Lakes. It seems fitting that the presentation was made at the Wisconsin Club in Milwaukee, just a couple of miles from Lake Michigan. I wrote Capsized! to tell about the tragedy of this event, but more importantly the human stories of those who endured it. This narrative nonfiction is written for readers age 10+, with the hope that they will spread the word about the 844 who died and “Remember the Eastland.”
I am available for presentations and school visits. You can contact me for more details at www.patriciasutton.com
[Excerpt]Capsized! The Forgotten Story of the SS Eastland Disaster
Promising to be the fastest steamship to sail the Great Lakes, the SS Eastland drew the families of Port Huron, Michigan, to the banks of the Black River on May 6, 1903. On a Tuesday afternoon, shops and offices around town closed and a school holiday sent children streaming into the streets at noon. Buildings were draped in red, white, and blue bunting, a brass band played Souza marches, and curious onlookers climbed trees or sat on the roofs of nearby buildings for a better look. More than 6,000 citizens turned out to witness the launch of the first passenger ship built by the Jenks Shipbuilding Company. After watching eight months of progress on the town’s newest vessel, they came to celebrate the send-off.
At precisely 2:15 pm, two sharp blasts sounded from the ship and the Eastland began to awaken, moving just a bit, shifting and stirring from a still position. Factory whistles shrieked, tugboat horns blared, and church bells rang out to herald the moment. The captain’s wife, Mrs. Frances Pereue, stepped forward and “struck a beribboned bottle of champagne against her steel bow.”
As the crowd clapped and cheered, the Eastland slid sideways down the rails into the river, sending a cascade of water splashing to the shore. The ship rolled to a 45-degree angle and stopped, holding a precarious lean. People gasped, watching and waiting to see what would happen next.
Then the Eastland righted itself to the roar of the excited spectators.
“She came right back up, just as nice and steady as a church,” remarked shipbuilder Sidney Jenks. “Steady as a church.”
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Years later, in court testimony, shipbuilder Sidney Jenks would repeat the words steady as a church when describing the ship’s launch. He would also admit under oath that “there never was an actual stability test for the Eastland” performed. Steady as a church, and yet the passengers on a fateful day in 1915 never had a prayer.
