June 24, 1979, Chapel of Our Lady of the Pines, Copper Harbor, Michigan

Wilma Jenkens and I were on our way to Copper Harbor to the “Chapel of our Lady of the Pines” to participate in a very special “Copper Harbor Maritime Memorial Service”. When I was asked to provide music and leadership for the service I felt deeply honored. There is something inherent within the soul of a Dutchman that has connected us to the sea for centuries. After all, our homeland was, for a large part, wrestled from the restless waves. I grew up in Rotterdam, The Netherlands. We lived less than a quarter mile from one of the many busy harbors that dot the Maas River, a direct route to both the North Sea and the river Rhine which flows from Switzerland to The Netherlands.

I was no stranger to the sea, its anger and its majesty, as well as its gentleness and its tranquility. In my four ocean crossings from The Netherlands to the U. S., and crossing between Hamburg, Germany and Montreal, Canada, as well as an ocean cruise from The Netherlands to Scandinavia, I had witnessed first-hand the awesome power of the sometimes angry waves.

In June of 1953, after graduating from Creston High School in Grand Rapids Michigan, I went to The Netherlands for a two year work-study program. It was a time when The Netherlands was just recovering from a disastrous flood that had covered 9% of Dutch Farmland, killing 1,835 people, and drowning 30,000 animals. Over 40,000 buildings were damaged and 10,000 more had to be completely taken down. Since the beginning of time we, the Dutch, have had a love/hate relationship with the sea. It is part of who we are. The 1953 flood marked the beginning of Holland’s determination that such a flood would never be possible again. A massive Flood Prevention project, called the “Delta Works” was started and the awesome might of the sea along the Dutch sea shore was harnessed.

Fast forward to November 10th, 1975. I left the house at my regular time of 6:00 a.m., to start my two hour ride to Gwinn, in Michigan’s U.P., where I was teaching. It had been, and still was, a stormy night. Fortunately there was no snow associated with the storm but the wind was of gale proportions. In front of our house on Portage Lake, huge, angry waves smashed against and over our barrier wall.  I remember thinking, “I am thankful for not having to be on Superior in such weather!” It was warm and cozy in the car, and my fresh brewed coffee added to my contentment. I felt safe and secure. When I rounded the bend by L’Anse, near the giant Bishop Baraga sculpture, the waves were coming across the road; and up ahead, a part of a tree had washed up on the highway. For a moment I considered turning around and going back home; but “retreat” is not part of a Dutchman’s vocabulary. Fortunately, there was just enough room to pass by the tree debris; and as I started going up the hill away from the water, things settled down. And the rest of the ride was very windy, but uneventful.

I was listening to one of my favorite organ music tapes. The radio was off.  When I arrived at the Gwinn School, I was made aware of the plight of the Edmund Fitzgerald, a huge Great Lakes freighter. Later in the day, it was confirmed that she had gone down with all 29 men on board. There were no survivors.

On this special day, June 24, 1979, we were going to gather in memory of the men and women who had lost their lives in the Great Lakes, and specifically Lake Superior. When I first arrived in the Copper Country, I took numerous drives along the shore line of the largest of the Great Lakes. You might say “It’s a Dutch thing.” Researching I had learned that even though  Lake Superior is the largest and deepest of the Great Lakes, it actually has the lowest number of sunken ships. Throughout all of the Great Lakes there are around 10,000 sunken shipwrecks, but only 350 of those are in Lake Superior. 

There is a legend that says, “Lake Superior does not give up its dead”. It is more than just a legend, it is a fact. The simple explanation is that the year around water temperature of Lake Superior, due to its depth, is much lower than that of any of the other Great Lakes; and, consequently, bodies do not decompose, nor do they float to the surface.

Driving up from Houghton, we took the scenic Lake route, Highway 26 from Eagle River to Copper Harbor. It brings one along the shore of Superior to Brockway Mountain. This “mountain” is not to be compared to mountains in Switzerland, but it does have the distinction of being the highest elevation above sea level between the Rockies and the Alleghenies. It’s a wonderful place to stop and savor nature’s beauty. Stretching as far as the eye can see there is nothing but water; except on a clear day, 50 miles to the West, one can vaguely see the outline of Isle Royale. It’s the kind of place where, at least for some of us, creation theory gives voice to the awesome spectacle that lay before us. This is not a place for words; silence says it all.

We drove on. We had a mission to fulfill. Somehow our brief visit to Brockway Mountain was a Prelude to the work we came to do. The road wound its way up and down through the forests; and eventually we descended into Copper Harbor and drove up to the “Chapel of Our Lady of The Pines”. It is not a building of great historical significance, but rather a simple chapel, built lovingly by local folks in 1952-53 who wanted to have their own house of worship. The theme for the structure was “Beauty in Simplicity” and it was designed to mirror the Finnish heritage of the area. The logs came from the surrounding forests. The construction was under the leadership of Victor Oja from Mohawk. He also handcrafted the pews, the holy water fonts, and some of the sanctuary’s furniture. 

We arrived at the chapel in plenty of time to rehearse the musical contributions with my friend, soprano soloist Wilma Jenkens, formerly from St. Paul’s Cathedral and the Male Ensemble, “The Gentlemen Songsters,” from Trinity Episcopal Church in Houghton; the church I served as Music Director. The two clergymen, Father Boyle of the Keweenaw Catholic Mission, and The Reverent Charles Hastie, of the Community Church of Calumet ably assisted by Mrs. Barbara Griebel of Mohawk, began greeting the arriving parishioners from various area churches as well as the vacationing visitors to the area.

Captain Don Kilpala, owner and captain of the Copper Harbor-Isle Royale Ferry Service, wearing his naval regalia, added authenticity to the service. The old church pump organ somehow seemed appropriate for a memorial service. As I looked over the service bulletin I had some concerns, not about the service, but about the organ player, me. There was a lot of music in the service and all of it depended upon my ability to “keep pumping”. A pump organ is like an accordion, when you stop pumping, the music dies, and that’s perhaps a bit over-dramatic during a memorial service!

It was time, and I began with a piece of music by one of my favorite Dutch composers, Jan Zwart. It was a setting of the 103rd Psalm and in musical language it describes, “our lives being as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourishes. For the wind passed over it, and it is gone; and the place therefore shall know it no more”, perhaps like a ship at sea or a freighter on the Great Lakes.

The music was followed by the “Roll Call”; the names of those we remembered were spoken. Each name was followed by the ringing of the church bell. During this service we especially called to remembrance the six sailors who had perished earlier that month; crew members of the Cartiercliffe Hall, a Canadian freighter which caught fire off Copper Harbor.  

The assembled sang the familiar hymn, “Abide with me”. It was followed by an invocation and then, in memory of the Cartiercliffe Hall victims. Wilma Jenkens sang “Come unto Him”, “My Shepherd will Supply my Need” (a version of the 23rd Psalm), and “Panis Angelicus” (Bread of Angels). Wilma’s voice soared, and in the rustic surroundings the music spoke of comfort and of peace.

There was an Old Testament Reading, followed by the singing of the hymn that will forever be associated with the sinking of the Titanic, “Nearer my God to Thee, Nearer to Thee”. Singing these words in that simple house of worship not far from the Superior shore, somehow connected us with those who went to the sea, never to return. Readings from the New Testament followed and then the “Gentlemen Songsters” sang “Holy, Holy, Holy”, “Amazing Grace” and “Finlandia” in tribute to those of Finish heritage in the local area who had gone before.

There was a Prayer of “Commemoration” and we closed the service with the singing of the familiar “Navy Hymn,”

“Eternal Father, strong to save, whose arm doth bind the restless wave,

Who bidd’st the mighty ocean deep, Its own appointed limits keep.

O’ hear us as we cry to Thee, for those who peril on the sea.”

 The Old Testament Aaronic Blessing ended the service:

“The Lord bless you and keep you

The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you,

The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace”. Amen.

It had been a simple but moving service. Each of us remembering loved ones; gone. The commemoration was for more than just those who died at sea. It was for all of our loved ones who had, at one time, been part of our lives, and who now were no more. The service, like it said in the 103rd Psalm of the Prelude, reminded us that “As for mortals, their days are like the grass; they flourish like a flower of the field, when the wind passes over it, it is gone, and its place shall know it no more.”

EDITOR’S NOTE: Gerrit Lamain is a former Copper Country resident who served as a music professor at Suomi College. He was also the organist for the Michigan Tech hockey team before moving on to the Minnesota North Stars.