Harlan Babcock, Nov 1866 - Feb 18 1930. Journalist, Editor. Witness to the Eastland Disaster.

STORY OF DISASTER BY ONLY NEWSPAPER MAN WHO SAW IT

By HARLAN E. BABCOCK

Chicago Herald, July 31, 1915

I WAS assigned to go to Michigan City on one of the pleasure steamers carrying employes of the Western Electric Company on their annual lake excursion and picnic. It is probably due to the fact that I overslept a quarter of an hour and stopped to get breakfast that I was not among those on the ill-fated boat and that I am alive to tell, as best I can, as an actual eyewitness under most distressing circumstances, the story of the catastrophe which plunged so many hundreds of families into the depths of grief.

I had been told that the first boat would leave the south end of the Clark street dock at 7:30 o'clock and planned to take the boat, as then I could get to Michigan City early, cover the picnic for my paper and return on the first boat in the evening. It was about 7:10 o'clock when I left my home on East Huron street.

I was hungry and stopped at a restaurant on State street to get a bite, as I knew what difficulty I would have in getting anything to eat on the boat. It was this act, I believe, that saved my life, as otherwise I would have reached the dock in ample time and have been a passenger on the Eastland.

THOUSANDS CROWD DOCKS.

I reached the Clark street bridge about 7:30, as near as I can figure, although I did not look at my watch. The bridge and the dock were choked with gay humanity, thousands waiting to take the Eastland and the Roosevelt or one of the other boats, and other thousands idly watching the passengers being herded onto the old shell; that is the only word that will express it-herded onto it like cattle by the crew.

The upper deck of the Eastland was fairly black with people-mostly women and children, it seemed to me from where I stood, as I remained on the bridge, having made up my mind after seeing how the boat was jammed with passengers and was listing. from the weight of the ever-increasing crowd on the upper deck to wait for one of the other vessels.

I vaguely remembered having heard that the Eastland had been condemned some years ago, and I felt that the crew of the boat was taking awful chances in overcrowding the boat, especially as the vessel kept listing, gradually but more and more every minute,

Then a tugboat steamed alongside of the Eastland and gave several deep- throated blasts, which evidently was the signal to "cast off" and start.

There must easily have been 2,500 aboard the boat of death. But it never "cast off." Before even the crew had time to release the hawsers that held the boat to the dock the vessel began to topple, and in less time than it takes to tell it, in sight of that horror- stricken throng of thousands, the Eastland, with its load of precious humanity-many of whom were mothers with babies in arms and with sweet-faced "kiddies" at their sides-careened, hurling hundreds screaming into the black waters of the river, scores and scores of whom were to die a miserable death, and penning still other terrified hundreds on the lower decks, there either to perish like rats in a suddenly flooded dungeon or later to be saved if they could keep their heads above water.

Never to my dying day shall I forget the supreme horror of that moment, so fraught with terror and all the awful, heart-rending scenes that go with a calamity of that kind. Many such scenes were enacted as have been described in connection with the sinking of the Titanic and Lusitania, only the trapped passengers on the Eastland did not have the time to escape that did those on the doomed death crafts of the Atlantic.

SLAIN BY HUNDREDS.

By the hundreds, men, women and children who but a moment before had been laughing and shouting holiday messages to one another on board the Eastland and to friends on shore were hurled into the merciless waters of the Chicago River and slain-slain as might have been a multitude in a Russian massacre, only without the scenes of carnage and bloodshed.

As the vessel lost its balance and top-heavily careened on its side the terror- blanched faces of those hundreds on the upper deck could be seen by those standing on the bridge, on the docks and on the steamer Roosevelt, which stood at the stern of the Eastland, freighted with some 2,500 other employes of the Western Electric Company, their families and friends.

There were screams and wails and sobs, pitiful prayers and imprecations from those on the doomed pleasure craft. When the boat toppled on its side those on the upper deck were hurled oft like so many ants being brushed from a table. Many on the opposite side of the boat clung to the railing and later were drawn up onto the hull and rescued. Members of the crew, men from the docks and bridge, policemen and others clambered onto the upturned and slippery hull as best they could and aided in the rescue work.

In spite of the momentary numbing effects of the catastrophe the work of rescue began instantly. Some of the unfortunates were scarcely in the water before they were dragged out.

A few of the women passengers kept their heads, but most of them wailed, wringing their hands hysterically and calling for loved ones who were with them but a moment before and who had become lost in the bedlam of fear.

Hundreds of life preservers were thrown from the docks and from the Roosevelt to those making supreme efforts to keep their heads above water and who had strength enough left to reach them. In this way a large number were saved. Many employes of the Western Electric Company aboard the Roosevelt did valiant service in the work of rescue. I saw one man in particular stick to the boat and one after another excitedly tear at least fifty Life preservers from their moorings on the vessel and throw them to the pleading men and women in the river, some of whom would sink to death even before they could reach the loading bits of cork.

Another scene I shall never forget was the way those wailing, shrieking women, and some men, clung, to the upper railing of the boat. In mad desperation they gripped the rail, knowing that to let go meant possible death. Many succeeded in retaining their hold until help arrived. Others, weakened by the excitement and fear, loosed their grip and plunged into the water, Anther means that rescued some was furnished by the planks that were thrown from the dock and the bridge at almost the moment the Eastland capsized. Scores of men, without waiting to see the result of the disaster, began to scurry about for anything that would float. Some found planks and others boxes, while still others rushed into South Water street and grabbled whatever movable and floatable they could find, rushing madly back and throwing these improvised life savers into the water. Some reached the drowning humans and others floated lazily down stream.

CHOP HOLES IN HULL.

Within a minute after the boat had careened men were at work cutting holes through the hull, that imprisoned passengers might be pulled through the apertures and saved. I don't know how many were drawn out in this manner, but it seemed to me that there were several hundred.

All this time grief-stricken men and women mostly employes of the Western Electric Company, members of their families or friends- were rushing about in the hope of learning the fate of loved ones. Others who knew positively that members of their families were aboard the Eastland begged the police that they be allowed to go on the upturned hull or on the dock.

When held back by the police they almost threatened, so insistent were they that they must get to the boat, but strong arms held them back. Women and men prayed aloud that those near to them might not be in the long roll of the dead.

The most sorrowful scenes of all were when the dead bodies by the scores and hundreds were pulled either from the river or from the hull of the boat, which, half filled with water, proved a death trap for so many happy souls bent on a day of merry- making, but which proved a doomsday ere it had begun.

Many of the passengers had retired to the staterooms of the Eastland. Those on the submerged side of the vessel must have been drowned almost instantly, as there was little possible chance of escape.

Hundreds of others were crowded on the dancing deck awaiting the moment the orchestra sounded the call to the floor. But the music never started. Instead came the shrieks of the affrighted as the boat listed suddenly and then careened, carrying scores of these happy young folk in holiday attire and with their feet but a moment before keeping time to imaginary music to a tragic death.

And then-that silently sad procession of policemen and firemen and others bearing in fours each a body on a dripping stretcher-mute evidence of the terrible toll of the waters. Solemnly the stretcher bearers walked down the hull of the steamer onto the deck with their inanimate burdens of humanity that a brief half hour or hour before had scurried laughing-to the death craft.

Eastland Disaster Woman Waiting ©2024 Natalie Zett

AIDS IN RESCUE.

I aided what little I could in the first trying moments of the calamity, but with such alacrity were the police and firemen-there were hundreds of them -on the scene, and so nobly did they labor, that there was little left for an outsider to do. So I kept as close to the scene as possible and got my story as best I could, for wasn't this my assignment, and hadn't I for some mysterious reason been spared from being one of those on the boat that sent so many to their doom? My heart ached for the bereaved ones and I was shocked as never before by the infinite sadness of it all, but I couldn't help but feel grateful that I overslept and that I stopped a few minutes to get breakfast. Otherwise this simple recital of what I saw might never have been written.

A slip of a woman, who was one of those rescued from the upper railing, stood weeping at the top of the stairway leading up from the dock into Clark Street. When she stepped onto the boat an hour before she had her husband and little boy with her.

'Oh, where do you suppose they are?’" she kept asking a sad-faced policeman standing near her. "You don't suppose they were drowned, do you? He had the baby--he had the baby. Oh, why didn't I take the baby instead of carrying the lunch basket? Won't you please find out where they are?"

The crowd looked at the bedraggled little figure pityingly and the police had hard work keeping her from rushing down on the dock and onto the boat.

Wild-eyed, half-hysterical and trembling, she watched every form that was brought up. Finally a tiny bit of clay was brought up to the street. "Oh, maybe that's him," she moaned. Before they could prevent her she had snatched the blanket away from the cold, white face of the child. With an agonized scream she threw herself across the stretcher and almost bore the policemen and the body to the ground.

Yes, it was "him"-her baby.

They lifted her up with the little body clutched in her arms, but she knew nothing of what was transpiring. She had swooned, but-she had her baby, at last. I could recite dozens of just such harrowing tales as this, but why make this soul-numbing catastrophe still more heart-breaking?

Eastland Disaster Poster Cutout ©2024 Natalie Zett

And this is my assignment. - Harlan E. Babcock

Link:

Source: The Newberry Library Collection. Chicago Herald, Eastland Memorial Edition, Eastland Disaster Historical Society records, July 31, 1915
Note: article was also reprinted in the The Gazette, Montreal, Quebec, Canada · Monday, July 26, 1915.

Updated: July 31, 2024

In this video, we commemorate the 109th anniversary of the Eastland disaster by highlighting the individuals whose stories have been covered in our podcast since November 2023. These untold narratives honor the memory and legacy of those affected by the tragedy. Here is the link to the complete video: https://tinyurl.com/2bps9bvt

Story of Disaster By Only Newspaper Man Who Saw it - HARLAN E. BABCOCK