Water is a powerful
attractant for paranormal activity. The Chicago River refuses to give up the
souls it gathered in the early 20th century in one of the worst
maritime tragedies in the city’s history.
Morning broke into rainy
sunlight the day of the Western Electric Company’s annual picnic on July 24,
1915. An early morning boarding onto the chartered passenger liner, Eastland,
and others for the event had swelled the crowd into the thousands on Wacker
Drive, between the Clark and LaSalle Street bridges along the Chicago
River. Anxious for a day of food,
music, and sporting events, employees and their families welcomed the chance to
sail on the luxury liner known as ‘The Greyhound of the Lakes’ on their way to
Michigan City, Indiana.
The Eastland,
recently outfitted with more lifeboats after the Titanic disaster and the
enactment of the LeFollett’s Seaman’s Act, was even unsteadier than usual.
Reports in the past of the liner being top-heavy, and listing badly enough to
take in water via the gangways in 1903, had resulted in redesigning the ship
but questions remained. The new addition of lifeboats and several tons of
concrete laid on the ‘tween deck and the main deck to shore up the rotting wood
on the decks now made the listing even more pronounced – especially when
passengers crowded the upper decks. While the Eastland filled to her
capacity of 2,572 people that morning, the ship started to rock in its watery
cradle.
Excited families began to
board at 6:30am, while the Eastland began to tip toward the dock. The
order was sent below for the port ballast tanks to be filled and steady the
ship as more people made their way onto the decks. Ten minutes later, the
Eastland was again steady. At 6:53am, the ship began to tilt toward the port
side, and was righted by the crew but the ship filled to capacity quickly. The
ship listed once more until at 7:20am, water began to fill through openings in
the lower port side of the Eastland. Passengers rushed to the side to
watch, making the boat tip farther, apparently enjoying the sensation and not
worried as they watched items slide across the deck. Another ship chartered for
the picnic could be heard playing “I’m on My Way to Dear Old Dublin Bay,”
nearby, as the morning’s impending disaster became a reality.
At 7:28am, the ship had a
list of 45 degrees. While passengers still crowded the port side to wave at a
passing Chicago fireboat, the liner tipped completely to its side and came to
rest on the river bottom, 20 feet below the surface. Some passengers were able
to pull themselves to safety and stood atop the starboard hull of the great
ship, ready to use a nearby tugboat, the Kenosha, as a bridge to the
dock. Others who had been on the top deck were flung into the water and trying
to stay afloat in the river’s strong currents as panic overcame the scene and
rescue boats rushed to pull victims from the river.
Many of the ship’s early
passengers had moved below to one of the three other decks to accommodate those
still boarding. Trapped as furniture, including pianos, chairs and bookcases,
crushed them against each other, most of the victims are believed to have died
of suffocation – not drowning – though by the time the rescuers were able to
reach them by cutting holes in the metal hull, those who survived the initial
rollover had drowned.
Rescue efforts began
immediately, though with bodies littering the water it soon became a recovery
mission. As the dead piled up along the wharf after being plucked from the
river, the city decided to establish the Second Regiment Armory on Washington
Boulevard as a makeshift morgue for unidentified bodies. Corpses stretched out
in rows of 85 along the wet floors awaiting identification from friends and
family left behind. The process of claiming the dead took a few days since 22
entire families had been killed and no one left to bring them home.
The death toll of the
disaster totaled 844 lives. Eight hundred forty-one people were passengers, two
from the crew, and one rescuer from another ship chartered for the occasion
that died in the effort to save as many lives as possible.
An inquiry into the deaths
on board the Eastland blamed faulty ballast tanks and their inability to right
the ship as capacity was reached but others felt the addition of the lifeboats
had tipped the scales, dooming an already top-heavy ship into certain failure.
It wasn’t a matter of “if” as much as “when.”
Since the Eastland tragedy,
paranormal activity haunts the river and the surrounding area. There have been
reports of sudden large surges of water overtaking the river walk area of lower
Wacker Drive, much like the power the water would have been displaced while the
Eastland tipped over. Visitors have also reported hearing screaming and
loud splashes of water by the Clarke Street Bridge but only encounter a quiet
river when they check to see if anyone needs help. More disturbing are accounts
of people having lunch at one of the many cafes along the walk only to find the
faces of tortured souls staring back from the depths of the Chicago River. I
wouldn’t stick around for dessert.
The armory where the bodies
were taken is also the scene of a residual haunting. Now the studio
headquarters of HARPO Productions and Oprah Winfrey, visitors and employees
have witnessed hearing children laughing, music, whispering voices and heart
wrenching sobbing throughout the building as well as an apparition they have
dubbed the “Grey Lady”. An army of footsteps echoes throughout the lobby
staircase while doors often slam shut by unseen hands.
