Many of us heard about the 1975 sinking of the freighter named Edmund Fitzgerald from the popular song written and sung by Gordon Lightfoot. Yet the people of the Great Lakes had known about the Fitz even before her official launch in 1958. For years afterward, the ship set records for moving tons of material from one harbor to another, over and over again, without fail. It had a long reputation of being the best Lakes ship with the best Lakes crew. It was a ship fan favorite. How could the worst possible fate ever come to it? Readers are provided with the details here, in a book poised for release in time for the 50th anniversary of the tragedy.

Veteran researcher and Michigan resident John U. Bacon sets the stage by introducing every background tidbit necessary to grasp the history and the operation of freight traffic on the Lakes. He anticipates and answers as many questions as landlubbers would have. What are the valuable minerals found in Michigan's Upper Peninsula? What are taconite pellets, one of the most popular loads transported by the ships? What harbors do the ships use? How does weather behave on the Lakes? How does wave action differ here, as opposed to waves on an ocean? How are these large freighters built? What is the process for loading and unloading them? What are the various jobs held by the crew members? What are their lives like, as they spend many months away from their homes and their families? And what bars do they patronize when they reach harbor?

The author then applies each technical detail to the 729-foot Edmund Fitzgerald. He also follows the lives of some of its crew members: not just the 29 men who went down with the ship, but also additional sailors. Some had worked on the Fitz for runs at other times, and others had worked with some of the same men on other ships. We discover much about Captain Ernest McSorley and his leadership style. We know that he planned to retire after this load was delivered. And the Edmund Fitzgerald itself was scheduled to undertake some minor repairs in Toledo, just after unloading.

By the time that the we turn the pages to Saturday, Nov. 8, 1975, we know as much as informed bystanders can know about the Fitzgerald, its taconite pellet load, its crew members and their habits, and the circumstances they would all face over the next two days. We also know a great deal about the Arthur M. Anderson, the ship that sailed closest to the Fitz in the midst of the horrific storm on Lake Superior. Captain Bernie Cooper of the Anderson maintained the last radio contacts with Captain McSorley. We readers have the unfortunate advantage of knowing, in general terms, what will happen to the ship and to its crew. They don't. Their true story can make for some compelling, yet tough and emotional, reading.

Accidents happen. Whenever they do, humans like to step in to determine (a) what really happened, and (b) who or what was to blame. The ship had no survivors. No witnesses were on the scene. We thus have no first-hand accounts of the sinking. Because the author supplied us with relevant background information, we can understand the multiple factors that were at work in this maritime loss. Theories about specific causes developed almost as soon as the Fitzgerald disappeared. More investigation was undertaken after the wreckage was found, buried in Superior's Canadian waters. It is one of John U. Bacon's intentions that this book offers the most probable likelihoods about what happened that night.

One positive outcome is that subsequent changes in weather reports, engineering, procedures, and priorities have been instituted since the loss of the Edmund Fitzgerald and her crew. Such a tragedy should not be able to be repeated by another ship during another storm on the Lakes. In 50 years, it has not.

The Gales of November marks a welcome, poignant and respectful revisiting of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Historians and freighter fans alike should find much good and new information here. While freighters and their crew members still do important and dangerous work on the Great Lakes, the St. Lawrence Seaway, and across oceans, they also generate a mystique among their followers. Hundreds of folks watch various online livestreams of ships sailing into or passing key harbors. Many watch the feeds from the Soo Locks in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan. Thousands visit the shorelines to catch glimpses of their favorite ships. Interested folks can also visit the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum in Paradise, Michigan. I will admit that I too have done all of this. And Gordon Lightfoot's haunting re-telling still resounds in my head. Vignettes from this book will stay with me, too.