This Nest of Dangers: The Iowa disaster claims entire crew
Published 1:54 pm Thursday, August 29, 2024
- S.S. Iowa, shipwrecked on Peacock Spit 1936 after being surprised by hurricane-force winds outbound from the Columbia.
On Jan. 13, 1936, the horror of yet another Peacock Spit shipwreck, that of the 410-foot-long steamship Iowa, was announced by large, loud headlines in regional newspapers: “Angry Pacific Pounds Ship to Bits, Kills 34,” read the Spokane Chronicle. The Coos Bay World elaborated, “Columbia Spit Snuffs 34 Lives. Freighter Iowa Swallowed by Mad Waters as Wind Reaches 90 Miles An Hour Speed; Cutter Rushes to Scene In Vain.”
Trending
The Seattle Star printed an article by Cmdr. R.S. Patch of the 165-foot-long U.S. Coast Guard cutter Onondaga, the vessel which responded to the emergency:
The 34 men in the crew of the freighter Iowa never had a chance to escape death. I am sorry that we couldn’t save at least some of them, but it was impossible. …
I received the call at 4:30 a. m., and it took us an hour and one-half to get outside the Columbia River. Heavy seas were running and we took an awful battering. The first big wave that hit us was strong enough to twist the training mechanism of a 3-inch gun around and damage it. Visibility was very poor.
Trending
We worked north around the Peacock Spit shoal. We sighted the Iowa about 10 o’clock. The storm had driven her from the channel side almost across the Spit. Every time a big wave would hit her, she would settle a little lower in the water and shift a few yards. …
One sea then smashed in a lifeboat on the Onandaga. We got to within 1500 yards. It cleared up a little and we could see the Iowa quite plainly. There was no sign of life on the wreck. The only part of the hull showing was the bow, which was visible between waves.
As I watched through powerful glasses, a tremendous wave ripped the stacks and bridge of the Iowa away, carried the wreck a ways and slid her deeper into the water. …
I saw one of the small Guard boats, the new power craft Triumph, trying to work out to the wreck without much success.
The seas were so heavy that the new 1000-ton Onandaga returned to port with one davit damaged, two lifeboats smashed, training gear of a gun ruined and a ventilator stove in.
Another article from that issue of The Seattle Star added, “A Coast Guard seaplane was … due from Seattle to aid in the patrol [searching for bodies]. …”
All-night vigil
“Coast Guardsmen and CCC [Civilian Conservation Corps] men, swinging lanterns through the darkness, maintained an all-night vigil, patrolling every foot of the 13-mile beach between North Head and Willapa Harbor in search of … bodies. It was feared the rough seas would carry bodies away again if they were not recovered when first cast upon the shore.” —Spokane Chronicle.
Mrs. Caldwell arrived here Sunday afternoon with another son, John Caldwell. She refused offer of shelter by beach residents and today was still walking the lonely sands, waiting for the sea to give up its dead.
“Seaview, Jan. 13 — (UP) — Throughout the long hours of the night Mrs. Frank M. Caldwell of Portland paced up and down the beach south of here looking for the body of her son, Frank M. Caldwell Jr., radioman on the ill-fated freighter Iowa which sank Sunday with the loss of all hands. Mrs. Caldwell arrived here Sunday afternoon with another son, John Caldwell. She refused offer of shelter by beach residents and today was still walking the lonely sands, waiting for the sea to give up its dead.” —The Seattle Star.
Weather initially ‘not bad’
“Portland, Ore., Jan. 13 — (UP) — Although storm warnings had been flying for 36 hours when the ill-fated steamer Iowa left the Columbia River entrance Saturday night, weather conditions then were not bad. Capt. H.V. Winslow, River pilot who took the ship from Longview to Astoria, said the ship was sailing well when he left it at Astoria.
“‘I have seen much worse conditions,’ Winslow said. ‘The Iowa steered well and the tide was flooding. She was in fine time.’
“Winslow said, however, that a few minutes later, after he had reached his residence, he noticed a terrific pickup of the wind which shook the house with gale force.
“The Iowa was not fully loaded and was to have picked up additional cargo at San Francisco. She was drawing 24 feet in fresh water, 22 in salt water when she departed. Apparently, Captain E.L. Yates, a veteran mariner who was so thoroughly familiar with the Columbia River entrance he did not take on a Bar pilot, felt no hesitancy is going outside. Observers believe that the full force of the gale whipped up just as the ship was crossing out and made retreat impossible.” —The Seattle Star.
North Head report
The next issue of the weekly Chinook Observer printed, verbatim, the events as recorded in the log of the U.S. Weather Bureau station at North Head. Junior Meteorologist Nino Sunseri and his assistant, Mr. Hubbard, looked out their observatory window on the headland and wrote what they saw:
Jan. 12, 1936.
Heavy gales reaching hurricane force, opened all communication channels from North Head during the early morning.
Regular 5:00, 6:30, and 7:30 reports sent by short wave radio to Naval Radio NPE for relay to destination.
At 7:55 a.m. lowered SE lantern and hoisted SE flags.
Then at 8:10 a.m. Mr. Bray, lighthouse keeper assistant, called my attention to a steamer grounded on Peacock Spit. Immediately called Naval Radio, Astoria, NPE and obtained an immediate reply.
Notified them that vessel was in distress on Peacock Spit and was told that ship was S. S. Iowa, which had departed from upriver points the previous evening and that their S.O.S. had been picked up at 3:52 a.m. Communication was maintained for a few minutes and then Iowa’s radio went dead.
It was requested to endeavor to establish communication by means of flicker lights. This was done immediately by placing a key in storm lantern circuit.
Their attention is believed to have been attracted after signaling for some time and flashes of light were discerned coming from stricken vessel. However, about this time a series of light mist squalls passed over the vessel and their attempt to signal could not be understood.
The next action was the hoisting of international code flags which could not be seen with any certainty. However, the signal appeared to be “NC” in the first hoist and “no meaning,” “need assistance,” and “am sinking fast.”
Unfortunately, flag signals had been discontinued at this station and the undersigned was unable to understand these hoists. After hoisting of these distress signals, the vessel began settling rapidly and at this time large quantities of oil appeared on the water, evidently coming from punctured fuel tanks.
From then on no further appearance was visible. It is not known whether all hands abandoned ship or whether survivors remained.
Coast Guard cutter Onondaga appeared on scene about 11:30 a.m. but was unable to approach closer than about a mile due to shoal water, and then during early afternoon two Coast Guard boats crossed the Bar and patrolled the vicinity for several hours, apparently searching for survivors.
By 3:30 p.m. all that remained was after-mast and top portion of rigging above mean low water. …
The visibility during early morning hours was generally less than one-half mile, although occasionally increased to 4 miles. It is doubtful if storm lanterns could be seen in the River channel at the time the Iowa was supposed to have left the River, since heavy rain was almost continuous since 9 p.m. Saturday night.
Deep regret
Jan. 17, in Portland, Kenneth D. Dawson, president of the States line, expressed the company’s deep regret, saying:
Our first concern is the loss of the lives of our men which is felt very deeply throughout the organization.
Of course, we have not learned the cause of the wreck [of the Iowa] nor what influenced the judgment of the officers. Our company shares with others the requirement that in the matter of putting to sea, the judgment of the master prevails.
We have always urged caution and the greatest of care, pointing out that it is unwise, unsafe and uneconomical to put to sea under adverse conditions.
Captain Yates had been with our company seven years and was a seasoned master. He had had much experience before he joined us. He had an excellent record throughout. —The Chinook Observer.
Northwest appalled
The same day, Portland’s Oregon Labor Press also spoke up:
“The appalling wreck of the States Line steamer Iowa on Peacock Spit at the mouth of the Columbia River last Saturday night … took the lives of a full crew of union men. …
“The wreck has caused considerable comment in union circles among the crafts that are employed on the waterfront, especially in the repair of ships. There is a wide-spread feeling that the ship should not have been taken out in the storm that was blowing and that she was not thoroughly seaworthy as a result of inadequate repairs. …
“G. O. Hunter, vice-president of the Central Labor Council, speaking over radio KWJJ Tuesday evening, said:
The event which has appalled the whole Northwest, and which took its toll of union workers, is the wreck of the States steamer Iowa. … The belief is increasing that the loss of 34 lives was due to first consideration being given to profits.
The boat was attempting to pass out of the Bar without a Bar pilot. The ship encountered an unusual storm, and it is possible that no pilot would have been able to keep her off the Spit, but it is probable that a competent Bar pilot would have declined to take the ship out.
When it left the Astoria dock about midnight, the storm was then raging. Storm signals had been up for thirty-six hours. With a crew aboard, a delay of a day of course meant considerable expense. It is a common practice to risk the safety of men in order to save money.
It was reported today that there would be no federal investigation of the wreck. The lame excuse given is that there are no survivors. But the hull of the vessel remains. An examination of it may throw light on what transpired aboard. …
If there is responsibility for the disaster, it should be established. The desire for profits, the desire to keep down expenses, when it causes loss of life, should not be concealed.
The churning Pacific
“Astoria, Ore., Jan. 16 — The churning Pacific continued to shield its secrets on the stricken steamship Iowa today. Whether weather conditions would permit attempts to board the craft, which foundered on Peacock Spit in Sunday’s hurricane, appeared problematical. … Two steamboat inspectors here yesterday returned to Portland when Coast Guardsmen advised against attempts to scan the wreck of the Iowa from close up.
‘We estimated the seas to be some 60 to 75 feet high, and there was a variation of from three to 15 fathoms between the crests and troughs.’
Cmdr. R.S. Patch of the 165-foot-long U.S. Coast Guard cutter Onondaga
“The inspectors, Capt. Frank K. Edthofer and John Nolan, said they would welcome any testimony concerning the tragedy. The inspectors … indicated their investigation would not be concerned with the fact that the Iowa carried no bar pilot since Capt. Edgar L. Yates of the Iowa held federal papers for such work.
“Nino Sunseri, junior meteorologist at the North Head weather bureau, in commenting on …the gale, said there ‘was nothing to indicate a severe storm at the mouth of the Columbia River except our general warnings issued from San Francisco’ when the Iowa crossed out. Four hours later it was beached. …
“The coast patrol for bodies continued today, although seamen said it was unlikely more would be washed ashore for several days. Six were recovered Sunday. Part of the remaining 28 are believed still in the ship.” —The Capital Journal.
The investigation
“Astoria, Ore., Jan. 17 — Close-lipped investigations were underway today into the freight Iowa shipwreck. … Coast Guard officers from Seattle held a hearing aboard the … cutter Onondaga to determine if life-saving crews … lived up to the rules of the Service by rendering every possible aid. While the reports will be confidential to Washington, D.C., headquarters, it was significant that the Onondaga herself was damaged by the battering hurricane. … Their findings, if significant, are sure to reach public ears.” —The Capital Journal.
“Portland, Ore., Jan. 30 — The government opened an inquiry today into the wreck of the freighter Iowa. … The inquiry was conducted by J.B. Weaver of Washington, D.C., director of the bureau of navigation. Most of the questions dealt with conditions of wind and sea before and after the disaster. … Capt. William Hall, bar pilot, who piloted the motorship Koyei Maru out of the river at 7:30 p.m. the night the Iowa sailed, testified that at that hour the wind velocity was from 40 to 45 miles an hour from the south. He said he would not have taken the Iowa out at a later hour. Capt. Robert Marquardt, a bar pilot, agreed that he would not have taken the Iowa across the Bar that night. …
“The brave battle of the Coast Guard cutter Onondaga with the wind and waves as it set out on a futile rescue mission was described by Lt. Cmdr. R. Stanley Patch. …
“With the engines turning at 110 revolutions, which should produce a speed of 11.3 knots, it took the Onondaga 45 minutes to cover 1,500 yards in the channel, so great was the wind. …
“‘We estimated the seas to be some 60 to 75 feet high,’ Cmdr. Patch continued, ‘and there was a variation of from three to 15 fathoms between the crests and troughs. …’
“At 4 a.m., shortly after the Iowa struck the sands … the wind velocity was measured at 75 miles an hour, the commander testified.” —The Capital Journal.
The Iowa’s flag
In mid-February, the Chinook Observer reported, “Badly torn and oil-stained, the flag of the wrecked steamer Iowa was found on the ocean beach near Seaview by M.J. Redeil.
‘Badly torn and oil-stained, the flag of the wrecked steamer Iowa was found on the ocean beach near Seaview.’
“The flag is on display in the window of the Pacific Hardware store at Ilwaco. Appearance indicated that the flag had been torn from the staff by the force of the gale, or else had been torn during its ride shoreward by the surging lumber and timbers that were washed ashore from the wreck.”
This wretched wreck seems to have cemented the nickname “Graveyard of the Pacific” for our coast into the minds of regional reporters.
With good reason.