Although we had a cottage on the Middle Channel of the St. Clair River since 1927 (in what is referred to as the Flats), I had never paid much attention to the freighters. We could see the black smoke that came out their stacks from our cottage, but I had no intimate knowledge of them and was not caught up in the wonder of their being. However one time during the late 1960's when I had just visited Holy Cross High School in Marine City, Michigan to help them plan the cover of their yearbook, I became hooked on freighters. On the way back to my home in suburban Detroit, I stopped at a Marine City restaurant situated on the St. Clair River which had a lovely view of the river. There had been so much turmoil in Detroit that I longed for the peace and simplicity of my retreat on the islands of the Flats. Suddenly as I sat a window in the restaurant, a huge freighter came downriver from Port Huron. It looked so serene and beautiful, as it silently pushed the water in front of it, that I sat there in awe as I watched it go by. It gave me the impressions of a "queen" in its regal splendor. And I thought, this is the spot in the world where I could find peace - watching the beautiful ships go by on this magnificent blue river. So, shortly thereafter, I fulfilled my dream and bought a home on the banks of the St. Clair River; seemingly so far away from the turmoil of the big city and yet near enough to be able to go there if I so wished to do so. At this time there were many freighters on the river. The St. Lawrence Seaway, which allowed passageway of many ships from around the world had opened up not too long before this time, and domestic freighters and those from faraway all went by. As river residents, we called the Great Lakes freighters "boats" and the ones from foreign countries "salties". We could recognize the difference by their distinctive shapes. The lakers, which stayed on the Great Lakes, were long and narrow and had rounded front and backs in those days; the salties were taller, shorter, and had pointed fronts. When you first move on the river, you go running down to the riverbank each time one goes by. But, of course, you couldn't keep doing that. There were so many on the river at that time, you would be constantly running back and forth. Visitors were entranced by these mighty ships, and always watched them with fascination wondering about each one. We bought a little paper-covered booklet called "Know Your Ships" which named each vessel, the year it was built, where it was from, its length, width, and capacity. The name of the line that owned that particular fleet would be on the side of the ship as well as its name; but it was on the back of the vessel that you could see the name and the country of origin. Their were different markings on the stacks for each "line" of ships, as well as having all the ships in the line painted with the same distinctive colorings and markings. We would drag out the binoculars so we could see the names and countries of origin more clearly, as well as the flags they were flying. Their native flag would be one side of the ship, while the US and Canadian flags would be on the other. We soon got to recognize various ships from a distance (although, we natives did not call them freighters or ships, we called these huge carriers "boats") One of the loveliest and easily recognizable was the ill-fated Fitzgerald, with its rust-colored and cream distinctive paint. We all felt a personal pain and loss when this lovely ship disappeared in the depths of Lake Superior during a vicious November storm. We couldn't believe it was really gone with its entire crew. Sometimes we would see one of its sister ships go by to remind us of our loss. Ships are always "she"; why I never knew. We would say in the winter-time (in the early years the freighters would all layup at their various ports for the icy winter, for repairs, and to allow the crew to visit their homes) "It is lonely without the water traffic" and we would long for the springtime and the passage of the first freighter of the season. We would all comment that we had observed the first one to go by. It was usually the white Medusa, local cement carrier; or one of the smaller Algoma line which would come downstream from Sault Ste. Marie in Canada. Sometimes we would forget our familiarity and acceptance of their presence, and go running down to the riverbank again to greet the first ship f the season. Many families along the river, including Marine City, had men who worked on the "boats". It was the "thing" to do, for young men, after graduation from high school, to spend at least one year working on the freighters. So the local folk had an intimate knowledge of the ships. Besides the freighters, there were busy little tug-boats pushing barges, small fishing boats with outboard motors, cruisers, sail boats, coast guard cutters and all types of craft going by. At that particular time in history, there was almost a constant stream of river traffic going by and always something of interest to see in the activity. We saw the British Royal yacht go by, Jacques Cousteau's Calypso, large passenger ships, speedboats, restored old wooden treasures, as well as the fleet of magnificent sailboats as they made their way upstream to Port Huron to ready themselves for the annual Port Huron to Mackinac Race. Of course, there were the metal ferry boats which carried people and cars from the mainland to Harsens Island or over to Port Lambton in Canada. These ferry boats made their trips back and forth, and from a distance seemed like little bees as they plied the waters on a regular basis. Occasionally, a group would rent one of the ferry boats, with its large metal deck, and the evening would be filled with merriment and music as they danced away the evening on their trips along the waterway. It always made you long that you were aboard. The waters of the St. Clair River do not warm up sufficiently to enjoy swimming in them until August; however in late summer we would see large groups of rafters, people in rubber inner tubes, drifting downstream. If you were a swimmer, rafter, or a fisherman in a small boat you had to maintain a constant vigil to make sure that you did not end up in the path of one of the freighters. A big freighter takes quite a distance to swerve or change its course to avoid hitting these "intruders". They would issue many long warning blasts on their huge horns; and, if you had any sense and weren't scared out of your wits by the sight of the large ship bearing down upon you, you would make sure you got out of its path.
