Let’s put this moment - the present - away and come back with me through quite a space of time (and for you, a change of profession). Past both World Wars and further yet … two centuries back to eighteen hundred and what? Let’s just stop in here at this Great Lakes waterfront drinking establishment.…

Wow, you’ve changed a bit. You look a little seedy. Those years that you’ve put in working on Great Lakes vessels must have been wearing.

Do you feel the rough clothing on your unwashed body badly needing a laundry experience? Have you had a decent meal since you got “paid off” on that last dirty boat?

And from where is the next job going to come?

“Not to worry!” you announce (a little loudly, I must say). “The Onoko will be here soon, and I’m already signed on!”

“Not possible,” I remark (looking a little seedy myself). “Nobody in their right mind would willingly get on a boat that can’t float.”

The glass mug of beer that the fellow beside us handed you seems to make the prospects more acceptable. He is the ship’s agent for the Onoko.

“It’s an iron ship … a safe, iron ship,” he says again, then orders you another mug of that mind-mulling frothy brew. Do you even remember signing on?

Hey, wait a minute! Wooden boats must float. Iron - now you clearly remember - sinks! As you find your bunk, clean and even comfortable, the room being warm is a surprise. Not bad, you reflect. Time to look around.

And look you do. When launched by the Globe Iron Works in 1882, the Onoko was the largest vessel on the Great Lakes and the first successful iron-hulled freighter. Its open-decked design - all those 119 years ago - became the standard for the modern-day bulk carriers.

Let’s talk about guts. You (and the rest of the crew) sure had some to get on an iron tub.

The initial enrollment document submitted by W.H. Pringle shows the Onoko to be 287.3 feet long, with a 38.8-foot beam. Asking for official numbers on March 20, 1882, he listed the Onoko at 2,164.42 tons with a triple expansion steam engine developing 1,707 estimated horsepower.

The official registration number awarded the Onoko was a low 155048. Her enrollment document describes her as “a propeller with two decks and four masts, plain head and round stern, windlass rooms forward and aft. Built 1882 at Cleveland by Tho. F. Pankhurst, master carpenter.”

You realize now that you’ve signed on to what this day’s waterfront calls “a floating coffin,” but even as you think about it, the lines are let go. Raw power vibrates through the hull to your feet; the solid strength of the hull surrounding you conveys safety. Interesting pictures mask your naked fear as your mind races on. Just one trip, you tell yourself. You need the money. You ask your mind for cooperation.

Your shift is called and you spend a mindless four hours shoveling the coal from those massive bunkers into the hungry boilers. The Onoko sails on.

For most of us, buying a car or a home by ourselves is quite a challenge. How in the world does one gather a group to buy a giant ship? Especially a ship made of iron at a time when it’s widely reputed to be sure to sink at the first opportunity? Could you be that persuasive?

The Onoko’s principal owner Philip Minch did it, recruiting one of the long line of Pringle family members, W.H. Pringle, as managing owner and master.

Assuming that you like the food, the bunk and quarters become reasonably comfortable. You stay on. Years pass. Onoko’s rigging changes from four to two masts in 1885. The following years reflect further modifications that finally replaced its last two masts with much smaller pole-masts. You, dear reader, sail on! The food gets better, the legend of iron ships sinking dies among the increasing fleet of larger ships plying the lakes.

But you and a hardy few like you were not the norm. As I’ve described, our Onoko’s challenge to traditional ship building caused it to suffer through years of crew shortages. Men were afraid of it and its reputation, and many methods were employed to keep even a reasonable crew aboard. Legends persist of early years when the need arose for a little persuasive “recruitment” (read “shanghai”) and the captain would say: “Time to send the crew ashore - with weapons.”

Still back in time - we recommend, dear reader, that you leave your Onoko commission before September 15, 1915, the day when a hull plate failed under the engines and sent the freighter to the bottom about 16 miles northeast of Duluth, Minnesota. Captain William Dunn had taken Onoko out of Duluth at 10:30 a.m. with a wheat cargo valued at $110,000 into a flat and placid lake. Chief Engineer Higgins was surprised, just over an hour later, to discover a rush of water flooding the engine room. He started the bilge pumps but by then the water was already waist deep. He climbed the ladderway with difficulty, making it to the deck. Joined by the firemen who also had escaped, they went to the captain. It appeared a plate had dropped off the hull under the stern, allowing the entire stern to flood. Captain Dunn knew the vessel was doomed and ordered the freighter to be abandoned.

Gathering their dearest items, the 16 crewmen and their one passenger lowered the two lifeboats, making sure their bulldog mascot Rex was safely with them. The Standard Oil Company tanker Renown rushed up, halting nearby.

Sinking stern first in 200 feet of water, it initially hit bottom and then stood vertically, gradually twisting as the final flooding moved it to its permanent grave.

Onoko rests there today, upside down. Ship losses were so common that the sinking didn’t even make the front page of the Duluth newspaper. The Onoko was gradually forgotten.

Now come back with me in time to the present and step on board a much smaller boat, but with a crew every bit as interesting.

Here you meet Jerry Eliason of Cloquet, Minnesota, Kraig Smith of Rice Lake, Wisconsin, and Randy Beebe of Duluth. Plus Jerry’s son, young Jarrod Eliason, already a skilled diver. These seasoned divers have spent many years developing an underwater camera system for deep lake searches. Adding Side Scan Sonar in recent years has further aided search efforts.

With several “bumps in the road” behind them, this group can now make careful studies in depths of more than 300 feet.

While others may have forgotten Onoko, these four did not. Recording the resting place of the freighter was one of their premier efforts (and I’m confident more will follow).

Look here at the images to see what they found! Appreciate, as lake historians already do, these untouched views of very real history.

Now wasn’t this worth your trip?

A selection of Jim Marshall’s columns of lake lore and his inland sea voyages has been published as Lake Superior Journal: Views from the Bridge by Lake Superior Port Cities Inc. Follow this link for more information.

Feedback: jrm@lakesuperior.com