One Day’s Rescue Work by Boatswain Anthony Glaza – Fall 1988
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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.
By Fred W. Mikko
It was on a Thursday, December 2, 1926 at 2:30 p.m. that Boatswain Anthony Glaza and his men were returning to their station at Eagle Harbor in a powered lifeboat with the entire 22-man crew of the steamer Thomas Maytham which, during a blinding snowstorm, had run aground on a reef just off Point Isabelle on Bete Gris bay.
Portrait of Chief Boatswain Anthony Glaza. Image courtesy of newspapers.com.
En route home, Glaza was startled to see another steamer – the City of Bangor – evidently a victim of the same snowstorm, stranded some four miles west of Keweenaw Point. After determining no personnel were aboard the vessel, he continued homeward bound intending to stop off at Copper Harbor to make inquiries as to the whereabouts of the missing crew, and all the while keeping a close watch on the shoreline.
Eight miles east of Copper Harbor, Glaza was surprised again to find the entire crew of the City of Bangor – 29 men – on the beach, suffering from exhaustion and hunger and ill-clothed for the bitter winter weather in Michigan’s Copper Country. After the stranding, the crew had set out cross- country for Copper Harbor but had become lost in the thick, snow-laden bush country.
Finding it impossible to land, Glaza told the Bangor crew to mark their position by a huge bonfire, and said he would return for them as soon as he delivered the Maytham crew to Copper Harbor.
If there ever was an organization in this world composed of nature’s noblemen, it must surely have been the men of the United States Life-Saving service.
Their heroism, beyond any call to duty, was delivered under this famous informal code: “You have to go out, but you don’t have to come back.”
When the United States Coast Guard and United States Life-Saving Service merged around 1915, it was hard to tell which service benefited most. Both comprised the most dedicated men who have ever served their fellow men.
Among the band of Great Lakes Life-Savers-turned-Guardsmen, was one Anthony Glaza of the Eagle Harbor, Michigan, station located near the tip of the Keweenaw Peninsula which extends like a scolding finger fifty miles into Lake Superior. Although not as dramatic as many rescues, the sustained activity of Boatswain Glaza December 2, 1926 tells the story of this service. True to his word, Glaza returned, and by 6:45 p.m. had taken the Bangor crew aboard the lifeboat. By 8:30 p.m. he had delivered them to the home of Mr. and Mrs. William Bergh of Copper Harbor, having arranged ahead for their food and shelter. He also detailed Surfman Ludwig Wedemeyer, who evidently doubled as a pharmacist’s mate, to stay with the crew of the Bangor to render what treatment he could to those suffering frostbite.
Billeting and feeding so many men could have become a formidable problem in so small a community, so once again Glaza loaded the Maytham crew into his lifeboat and at 10:30 p.m. they arrived at the Eagle Harbor station which had ample facilities, food, clothing and shelter.
Despite darkness and the lateness of the hour, he intended to return for the Bangor crew the same night to bring them to Eagle Harbor. Before he could set out again, however, the wind shifted to the northeast, gale proportions. He then decided not to turn to Copper Harbor because the Bangor crew was in no condition to withstand further sea exposure and because they were being cared for by the Berghs.
Glaza marked time all day Friday, waiting in vain for the storm to abate. On Saturday, the storm moderated somewhat. Concerned that the men with frozen feet might be in need of medical treatment, Glaza decided to pick up the Bangor crew or at least the most severely disabled. He left Eagle Harbor that morning and arrived at Copper Harbor at 12:45 p.m., the lifeboat and crew members coated with ice.
After arriving, Glaza had practically decided to stay over until the weather abated, but Wedemeyer said some crew members required immediate medical attention for frostbite. Glaza changed his mind and selected 18 of the worst cases, wrapped them up in blankets, and departed at 3:00 p.m., arriving at the station at 6:30 p.m.
By 10:00 p.m., a physician Glaza had summoned from Calumet arrived at the station and treated and dressed the frostbite victims. The doctor ordered five of the men hospitalized immediately.
The weather turned fair Sunday, and Glaza again set out for Copper Harbor and returned with the eleven remaining members of the crew.
In the next few days, the president and vice president of the steamship company, a representative of” the ship’s underwriters, and news photographers visited the station.
The common sense, fortitude and initiative of Glaza reflected nothing but great credit upon the U.S. Coast Guard. Of greater satisfaction to Glaza, however, must have been the report he received from Dr. A.C. Roche of the Memorial Hospital in Laurium: “In my opinion, treatment applied by the station crew resulted in saving amputation of any parts of the crew’s feet.”
While men like Anthony Glaza and the other men of the U. S. Coast Guard usually discount their activities as “just doing the job” they were and are supermen.
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