
They never even left the dock. On the morning of July 24, 1915, the SS Eastland lay moored on the south bank of the Chicago River between Clark and LaSalle Streets, taking on passengers for a Western Electric company picnic. By 7:10 AM the ship had reached her capacity of 2,572 people. Eighteen minutes later, she rolled completely onto her port side and came to rest on the river bottom. The water was so shallow that barely half the vessel was submerged. But hundreds of passengers had already moved below decks to warm themselves on that damp morning, and when the ship lurched, they were trapped by rushing water and crushing furniture - pianos, bookcases, heavy oak tables sliding across tilting floors. In less than a minute, 844 people were dead. The Eastland disaster remains the largest loss of life from a single shipwreck on the Great Lakes, and one of the most forgotten catastrophes in American history.
The Eastland was ordered in 1902 by the Michigan Steamship Company and built by the Jenks Ship Building Company of Port Huron, Michigan. Her designer, Sidney Jenks, later testified that the original owners wanted a fast ship to transport fruit, and he built one capable of carrying 500 passengers. The problems started immediately. During her 1903 inaugural season, the ship struck a tugboat at the Lake Street Bridge. Two weeks later, six firemen refused to stoke the boilers because they hadn't received their potatoes for a meal - Captain John Pereue arrested them at gunpoint, and all six were charged with mutiny. Successive owners kept modifying the vessel: concrete floors replaced hardwood in the dining room, adding 15 to 20 tons of weight. Each change made the already top-heavy ship less stable. A stability test was never performed. At her launching, the Eastland had tilted to 45 degrees before righting herself, and her builder considered that satisfactory.
The federal Seamen's Act of 1915, passed in response to the Titanic disaster three years earlier, required all passenger vessels to carry a full complement of lifeboats. The law was well-intentioned but had a cruel side effect for the Eastland: her owners chose to add lifeboats rather than reduce passenger capacity, mounting heavy davits and boats high on the already dangerously top-heavy hull. The ship's licensed capacity was raised to 2,570 passengers. On that July morning, many of the workers heading to the Western Electric picnic were immigrants - Czech, Polish, Norwegian, German, Irish, Swedish, Danish, Italian, Hungarian, and Austrian families who had settled in the neighborhoods around Chicago's industrial corridor. Of the Czech passengers aboard, 220 perished. Many had settled in Cicero, which was devastated by the losses.
The capsizing happened so close to shore that rescuers could practically touch the hull from the wharf. Captain John O'Meara and the crew of the nearby vessel Kenosha pulled alongside within minutes, allowing stranded passengers to leap to safety from the exposed hull. Peter Boyle, a deckhand from the SS Petoskey, drowned pulling passengers from the water. Helen Repa, a Western Electric nurse, took command of much of the rescue operation on shore. Carl Sandburg, then working as a journalist, wrote a furious account accusing regulators of negligence and alleging the picnic had been mandatory. He also wrote a poem, 'The Eastland,' which he concluded: 'I see a dozen Eastlands / Every morning on my way to work / And a dozen more going home at night.' It was considered too harsh for publication and was not printed until 1993. Among those scheduled to board the Eastland that morning was a 20-year-old named George Halas, who arrived late. He went on to coach the Chicago Bears and help found the National Football League.
A grand jury indicted the steamship company's president and three officers for manslaughter, and the captain and engineer for criminal carelessness. The case went nowhere. Sidney Jenks testified he had designed the ship to carry 500 people and had no control over what later owners did with her. Defense attorney Clarence Darrow argued that the accused could not have known the ship was unseaworthy since it had 'operated for years and carried thousands safely.' The court refused extradition, finding 'barely a scintilla of proof' to establish guilt and reasoning that every act charged against the captain and engineer was performed 'in the ordinary course of business, more consistent with innocence than with guilt.' No one was ever held criminally liable for the deaths of 844 people.
Three weeks after the disaster, the Eastland was raised from the riverbed and sold to the Illinois Naval Reserve. Rechristened USS Wilmette and converted to a gunboat, she was commissioned in September 1918. In June 1921, the Wilmette was given a remarkable assignment: sink UC-97, a German U-boat surrendered to the United States after World War I. The guns were manned by gunner's mate J. O. Sabin, who had fired the first American cannon of the war, and gunner's mate A. F. Anderson, who had fired the first American torpedo. The Wilmette spent the rest of her career training naval reservists on the Great Lakes before being decommissioned in 1945 and scrapped in 1947. In 2015, one hundred years after the disaster, a memorial was dedicated at Bohemian National Cemetery in Chicago. Marion Eichholz, who had been three years old aboard the Eastland that morning, died in 2014 at the age of 102 - the last known survivor.
The disaster site is on the south bank of the Chicago River between Clark Street and LaSalle Street, at 41.887°N, 87.632°W. The river is clearly visible from altitude as it bends through the Loop. From above, the site is directly north of the intersection of Wacker Drive and the river, identifiable by the distinctive bridges crossing the Chicago River in this area. Nearby airports include Chicago O'Hare International (KORD, 14 nm northwest) and Chicago Midway International (KMDW, 9 nm southwest). Best viewed at lower altitudes in clear conditions; the river corridor is a strong visual reference.