"Did I do my best?"

While writing my entry concerning the Deering Library at Northwestern University, a shipwreck tragedy that occurred near that campus was brought to mind. The story strikes a particularly resonant chord with me, not only as a Wisconsin native but also as a former resident of Chicago’s north suburbs where I grew up splashing about in Lake Michigan’s icy surf.

On the night of September 6th, 1860, the paddlewheel steamer Lady Elgin left Milwaukee for nearby Chicago. The ship was carrying over 400 passengers (by some accounts nearly 700)– primarily members of Milwaukee’s largely Irish Union Guard Militia – headed for a Democratic Party fundraiser where presidential hopeful Stephen Douglas would be speaking.

Following the event, the Lady Elgin disembarked for her return voyage around 11:30 p.m. Most passengers retired immediately to their cabins but others remained in the ballroom, dancing to the music of a German band at the front of the ship. The weather grew increasing foul as the ship slowly made its way back to port in Wisconsin. By midnight, gale force winds were blowing and Lake Michigan had grown treacherous.

At approximately 2:30 a.m., the ship lurched violently at it was struck by a 129 ft. clipper ship. The Augusta of Oswego, was a 266 ton, 2-masted schooner fully-loaded with lumber. The Augusta had been flying too much sail and was out of control. The cargo had shifted, causing the ship to list and the crew was fighting to right her when they spotted the lights of the Lady Elgin.

In the confusion of the storm and impending collision, the captain failed to issue an order to turn until it was too late. The Augusta’s bowsprit impaled the Lady Elgin, piercing the hull just behind the portside paddlewheel. The Lady Elgin was moving swiftly and dragged the schooner a short distance before the forward motion levered the Augusta’s nose free, wrenching the wheel from its axle and tearing a huge hole in the Lady Elgin’s portside.

The Augusta was badly damaged and taking on water. Assuming the Lady Elgin had suffered little, if any, damage from what he believed to have been a glancing blow, Captain Malott sped from the wrecksite and made for the nearest port. Meanwhile, the Lady Elgin was sinking fast and beginning to break apart.

Captain Wilson and the crew ran through the ship trying to wake sleeping passengers. Amid the chaos, a lifeboat was launched without oars or a securing line and quickly drifted away in the storm with only the First Mate and a few other crewmen aboard. The second leaked so badly it was abandoned. The Lady Elgin was sinking stern first and the rush of air toward the bow as she tilted caused the forward steamworks to explode. The ship disappeared beneath the crashing waves less than twenty minutes later.

Survivors clung to pieces of the deck and other bits of floating debris while a thunderstorm raged in the skies above – illuminating the desperate scene with flashes of lightning. The collision took place about seven miles from shore and an estimated half of the passengers were able to ride their makeshift rafts to shallow waters. Charles Beverung, the drummer of the German band, managed to float ashore clinging to his bass drum.

The lifeboat drifted ashore at Hubbard Woods near Winnetka and the First Mate, after scaling a tall bluff at the water’s edge, was able to report the disaster and set rescue efforts in motion.

As daylight broke, students from nearby Northwestern University arrived at the scene to pull exhausted survivors from the ferocious breakers pounding the shoreline. Edward Spencer, a seminary student at the Garrett Bible Institute on the NU campus was noted for exceptional heroism during the rescue efforts. He and his fellow seminarians worked tirelessly to save as many lives as possible. Spencer plunged repeatedly into the raging surf, saving a total of seventeen lives before he collapsed under from the physical and emotional strain of the rescue effort. Upon regaining consciousness, he immediately demanded of the other Samaritans “Did I do my best?”

Captain Wilson, who also demonstrated extraordinary courage in the course of the rescue, was hurled against the rocks by the savage surf. His body was found three days later – almost a hundred miles away - in nearby Indiana. Bodies would continue to wash ashore for months to come.

Spencer died in California at age 81. A local paper recounting the tale alongside his obituary stated that not one of the seventeen individuals he rescued ever bothered to thank him.

Coastal safety became a tradition at Northwestern and in 1876 the Federal government built a lifesaving station near the Grosse Point Lighthouse. It was continuously manned by student volunteers until it was taken over by the Coast Guard in 1916.

Great Lakes historian J.B. Mansfield called the Lady Elgin disaster "one of the greatest marine horrors on record". The tremendous loss of life decimated Milwaukee’s Irish-American population and is largely credited with tipping the balance of that city’s political power in favor of the German-American demographic.

A Tale of Two Sisters

Charles Deering had two daughters, Marion Deering McCormick and Barbara Deering Danielson. Marion carried the merging of the Deerings and McCormicks beyond the level of business when she, much to her father's chagrin, became the wife of Chauncey McCormick. The grandson of William S. McCormick (founder of the McCormick Harvesting Machine Company), Chauncey was considered a bit of a playboy and Marion's parents apparently disapproved of their engagement, even denying the veracity of the public announcement. The couple seems, nonetheless, to have eloped; holding a religous ceremony at the Paris residence of her uncle James following a civil union in that city on July 6, 1914.

Chauncey, it was noted in the New York Times' coverage of the wedding (shown in part above), had apparently proved himself worthy by working his way up in the family business from the position of "day laborer". The article also noted that he had not seen his name in print since he was gored by a wild elk on the estate of P.R. Greist while a senior at Yale.

Barbara's nuptuals occured without any documented controversy. She wed Richard Ely Danielson, future editor and publisher of the Atlantic Monthly. He is noted for his affiliation with the Skull & Bone Society (1907), and while other information about him is scarce, his name often appears in association with conspiracy theories, secret societies, the Illuminati, the Rothchilds, etc. - giving him a profoundly more sinister image than that acheived by his brother-in-law's mere rakishness.

The Deering sisters inherited their father's vast collection of fine art following his death in 1927. Initially placing much of it on loan to the Art Institute of Chicago, it was later donated to become a part of the museum’s permanent collection. Deering's affinity for Spanish artists added a significant dimension to the AIC's existing inventory with magnificent works like Bernat Martorell's Saint George Killing the Dragon becoming signature pieces among the museum's aquisitions.

Barbara and Marion continued to follow in the footsteps of not only their father but also their grandfather, extending the family's legacy of philanthropy. In 1933, their endowments built the Deering Library - a massive neo-gothic structure housing over half a million books -at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois (see top left). Both Charles and his father William had been significant albeit anonymous patrons of the school from 1876 until their respective deaths. Brother Roger's bequest of $7,000,000 upon his death in 1936 was one of the largest donations ever made to an institution of higher learning at that time.

The Deering sisters also inherited their uncle James Deering’s lavish estate Villa Vizcaya following his death in 1925. They initially attempted to operate it as an attraction but were plagued by continuous repairs and restoration following the hurricanes of 1926 and 1935. They eventually sold Vizcaya to the county at a fraction of its value with the stipulation that it remain open to the public in perpetuity.