Flower in the River: A Family Tale Finally Told

Who Speaks for Dwight Boyer? The Storyteller Who Remembered Them All

• Natalie Zett • Season 4 • Episode 126

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In this week’s episode, I continue reading from "Who Speaks for the Little Feller?"—Dwight Boyer’s unforgettable chapter in "True Tales of the Great Lakes" (1971), one of the earliest and most detailed accounts of the Eastland disaster. A meticulous maritime journalist, Boyer combined accuracy with deep empathy, giving voice to the people whose lives were forever altered that day.

This isn’t just history—it’s storytelling with heart. Names, quotes, context—it’s all there. Decades before anyone else tried to piece this together, Boyer had already done the work. George Hilton later built on that foundation with scholarly precision in Eastland: Legacy of the Titanic (1995), reinforcing what Boyer had captured through journalism and humanity.

Yet, in the 21st century, so many of those same stories still missing from modern retellings--specially the ones that are recycled constantly.

This episode is about honoring the storytellers who came before—and the real people whose lives they refused to let slip away. The work was already done. It’s time we reconnect with it.

Natalie Zett:

Hello, I'm Natalie Zett and welcome to Flower in the River. This podcast, inspired by my book of the same name, explores the 1915 Eastland disaster in Chicago and its enduring impact, particularly on my family's history. We'll explore the intertwining narratives of others impacted by this tragedy as well, and we'll dive into writing and genealogy and uncover the surprising supernatural elements that surface in family history research. Come along with me on this journey of discovery. Hey, this is Natalie, and welcome to episode 126 of Flower in the River. I hope you listened to last week's episode because that will help make this week's episode make more sense. So this week I'm sharing part two of Dwight Boyer's chapter on the Eastland disaster from his 1971 book True Tales of the Great Lakes. The chapter is titled who Speaks for the Little Feller and honestly I'm tempted to add a subtitle who Speaks for Dwight Boyer, but I'll get to that later. I stumbled across this book on eBay while searching for Eastland-related material to see if anything new had popped up. When the book arrived and I started reading it, I realized this wasn't a passive mention of the disaster. This was one of the earliest in-depth accounts of the Eastland tragedy foundational stuff. Now George Hilton's book, which came much later is broader and more scholarly, for sure. But Boyer's chapter, it's powerful, it's complete. And here's the thing as I read it, certain phrases and descriptions felt oddly familiar, like I'd seen them before, but without Boyer's name anywhere in sight. Boyer's telling of the Eastland story has mostly been ignored, and if I were to give this episode a cheeky little subtitle, it might be the book you may have read without realizing it. But let's get into the second part of Boyer's chapter. It's a long chapter but it's worth every second. Boyer was one gifted storyteller and it's time he stepped. Continuation of the reading of Chapter 2, who Speaks for the Little Feller in the book True Tales of the Great Lakes by Dwight Boyer. Copyright 1971. Copyright 1971.

Natalie Zett:

Directly across the river from the Eastlands dock was the big Reed and Murdoch Company warehouse. The blood-curdling cries that came welling out of the ship as it rolled over brought quick action. Momentarily petrified by the sight that first met their eyes, the workmen quickly began throwing boxes, crates and lumber into the river anything that could support a human being. One of the Chicago Fire Department's fireboats, stationed only a stone's throw from the site, responded at once. Other tugs, police boats, coast Guard craft, private yachts and ship supply launches converged upon the appalling scene. Seen From inside, the compartments on the exposed partition of the Eastlands Hall could be heard terrified shouts and muffled moaning. Those still dazed and standing safe above them could feel and hear the frenzied pounding of many fists against the underside of the hull plates. But for those who had been sitting or standing in the center of the ship or on the port side, there would be no more shouting or pounding. For them it was all over. Lifeboats lowered from the Roosevelt made their way to the foundered Eastland, passing and ignoring dozens of bodies. There were still lives to be saved. The dead could wait.

Natalie Zett:

Barbara and William were still at the upper port rail when the steamer began her fatal roll. William, sensing the coming disaster, threw their bench into the river and somehow, in the mad crush of falling chairs and fellow passengers, both had managed to reach it. It seemed so unreal, being there in the river and watching a streetcar cross the Clark Street Bridge, that Barbara's only reaction to the dunking were words that proved to be her last. Oh, my dress, my dress. A second later, another victim fighting for a grip on the bench pushed her away and she was gone For Agnes Kaspersky. Her dread of water was a dream come true. Plunging free of the rail as the ship toppled, she came to the surface and was reaching for her friend Stella Michalski, when an icebox from the refreshment stand crashed down upon them. When an icebox from the refreshment stand crashed down upon them, the Benckes at the starboard rail had clung grimly for life for the few seconds it had taken the Eastland to capsize. They were wet but still above water and hanging to the rail. When helping hands reached down from above, little Martha, still clinging to her father's shoulder, was handed up and passed along the human chain that stretched over the Kenosha's deck to the dock.

Natalie Zett:

Moments later the parents gained the safety of the ship's exposed side the Novotny's. The Novotny's James, agnes, mamie and Willie had been unable to find a place at the rail and had contented themselves with a bench midway between the port and starboard sides. The final and sudden list of the Eastland made them just four pieces of the gigantic jigsaw puzzle of people, chairs, benches, tables, refreshment counters and ship's gear that piled up on the port side and was quickly submerged. The words of the rude rebuff his warning had received from those on the Eastland's bow were still ringing in his ears when Mike Gianvenco saw the ship go over with hundreds of people spilling off her upper deck. Abandoning his wagon, he ran across the bridge and to the dock to join in the rescue work. Mike Gianvenko was one of the many heroes that day.

Natalie Zett:

Considering that it was an era before the instant mass communication wonders of radio and television, word of the calamity spread with remarkable speed. Once the gravity of the situation was known, every Chicago hospital rushed ambulances, doctors, nurses and resuscitating devices and first aid equipment to the dock. Dr Thomas, a Carter head police surgeon, was early on the scene, followed closely by Dr E W Ryerson of Henroton Hospital. Together they organized squads of doctors and nurses. Dr Joseph Springer quickly examined the victims as they were brought out of the Eastland. A shaking of his head meaning that it was too late, a brisk nod indicating that the resuscitators might here save a life.

Natalie Zett:

When it appeared that space would not permit more stretchers or workers, the doors of the big Reed Murdoch warehouse were thrown open, the building to serve as a temporary hospital and morgue. Much of those obviously beyond help were taken to the Theodore Roosevelt there in long lines on the deck, so recently trod by a joyful and expectant crowd of Western electric workers At the warehouse. Drs WA Evans, john B Murphy, john F Golden, jr Pennington were soon joined by a Red Cross team of nurses with Drs MK Little and JS Soldini. The teams of police were bringing in victims at the rate of two a minute. Above the tramp of feet, the murmur of voices and the muted, swishing sounds of the resuscitators came only an occasional cry of triumph as eyelids fluttered and chests heaved.

Natalie Zett:

Among those who quickly responded to the emergency was NW LaVallee, manager of the Oxweld-Asseltine Company, who brought as many men as he could muster and all the supplies they could carry. Rescuers on the exposed side of the ship pointed to places where they could hear shouting and hammering from those still trapped below. One of the cutting torch men was J H Rista, who had scarcely begun his work when he was rudely shoved aside by Captain Pettersen and ordered to stop. Rista heatedly refused and it took rough talk by several of the workers to keep the captain and first mate Del Fisher from further interfering with the rescue work. After I got rid of Peterson, rista later told newsmen we took 40 people all alive out of that hole he had tried to stop me from cutting Elsewhere. More holes were being torched in the hall, some yielding day survivors, others only the dead, and a growing collection of picnic baskets and hampers, gerby hats, thermos bottles, pocketbooks and garments shredded in the fierce battle for life Divers. All who could be quickly located disappeared through the holes to locate more victims and in their grisly searching, found many. Strangely, not one member of the Eastlands crew of 60 was lost.

Natalie Zett:

Captain Pedersen and first mate Fisher, after the hole-cutting episode and further incidents of interference, were placed under arrest by Herman Schuttler, first Deputy Superintendent of Police, on the way to Schuttler's City Hall office where they were to be questioned by Coroner Pete Hoffman and Charles Centercase, assistant State's Attorney. They were assaulted by a mob Despite an escort of 20 policemen. One man broke through the cordon and struck Captain Petterson, before being himself felled by a nightstick. All day.

Natalie Zett:

As the news spread, morbidly, curious Chicagoans wended their way to the scene, the crowd growing by the minute. By late afternoon they were there by the thousands, perched on bridge girders all along the river docks and standing six deep on the roof of commercial buildings. Long before dark, anticipating an all-night ordeal, workers of the Commonwealth Edison Company had ringed the area with powerful temporary lights. Still, the crowd grew, although the proportions of the tragedy kept them relatively quiet, their senses dulled by the enormity of the disaster. Each still form lifted from the hall served as a reminder of how quickly joy can turn to grief. For most of the observers there existed an ironic, completely incongruous atmosphere to the whole grim spectacle. It was simply inconceivable that here, on a mild summer morning, in the very shadows of skyscrapers and where elevated trains and streetcars roared by within a few hundred feet, a prosaic excursion boat, still lashed to its dock, could precipitate a disaster of such epic proportions. Even less believable was the fact that thousands had looked on in mute helplessness, had looked on in mute helplessness, witnessing a catastrophic event whose ramifications in loss of life and family tragedies could as yet only be an extremely morbid guess.

Natalie Zett:

The recovery task now better organized. Arrangements were made to turn the big 2nd Regiment Armory at Curtis Street and Washington Boulevard into a temporary morgue, transferring there the silent victims from the decks of the Theodore Roosevelt and the Reed Murdoch Warehouse. At the armory sober, officials from the coroner's office attached a number tag to each body. Others noted the sex, approximate age and description of clothing on records with duplicate numbers. One of the first to be identified was 18-year-old Anna Quain, whose father, policeman John Quain, had been detailed to help at the work at the armory. The long lines of still forms grew as the hours passed 100, 200, 300, 400, 500. And still the police and mortuary vehicles continued their shuttle from the dock warehouse and the dock alongside the floundered Eastland, which looked by this time like a tiny toy boat awash in a gutter.

Natalie Zett:

At 11 pm that tragic Saturday night, the crowds of idle curious, most of whom had no reason to be there, had grown to such proportions that those seeking news of loved ones had difficulty gaining admittance to the armory. Coroner Hoffman, almost distraught with the enormity of the task that suddenly became his responsibility, mounted a stepladder outside the main entrance to make a dramatic appeal. In the name of God, he implored I ask you to go away and let those seeking relatives and friends come in and identify their dead. Based on the number of bodies recovered and tagged at that hour 526, and the known fact that many more were probably still entombed in the Hulk still entombed in the hulk the Chicago Tribune in its Sunday morning edition estimated the probable loss and proclaimed 912 bodies recovered. Total Eastland victims may reach 1,200.

Natalie Zett:

Somebody made a big mistake, one of the big mistakes of history. Somebody made a big mistake, thundered state's attorney McClay Hoyne. Somebody made a big mistake, thundered state's attorney McClay Hoyne. Somebody made a big mistake, echoed district attorney Charles Klein. A big mistake was made by the officers, intimated Captain Ira Mansfield and William Nicholas, the local steamboat inspectors. The discrepancy in the total loss of life emblazoned on the newspaper's front page and the number of victims at the armory was the result of some inevitable duplication in count taken at the Eastlands dock, the Reed Murdoch warehouse and on the decks of the Theodore Roosevelt. The paper further stated that the toll might possibly be as high as 1800., the figure depending upon how many had escaped the ship without reporting the fact.

Natalie Zett:

Reporters on the scene, looking for authoritative sources of information, quickly seized upon the words of wisdom from John V Elbert, the Titanic survivor, who was on duty with Chief Engineer Erickson when the Eastland took her fatal list. Elbert was quoted as calmly saying that the capsizing was the result of most of the passengers rushing to the port side of the Eastland to watch a launch passing by. That was quickly challenged by a bystander, one who had, by sheer luck, escaped a watery tomb on the vessel. He was CB Hadley, who, with two companions, had found themselves in a part of the deck used as a smoker. Quote. It would have been impossible, said the bitter Hadley, people were packed aboard too closely to budge. We found the companionways between stairway and promenade so crowded we had to squeeze through. From my observation I should say that there were about 3,500 passengers aboard. Every part of the boat was crowded to standing capacity.

Natalie Zett:

In that same Sunday morning issue, the Tribune expanded its mistake pronouncement Quote. Somebody made a big mistake, what will take rank as one of the biggest mistakes of history. And the placid, shallow, narrow, utilitarian Chicago River folded to its bosom perhaps as many human beings as were ever caught in any ocean tragedy of modern times. Of modern times. But perhaps the most pertinent item to appear on that frightful page on a warm Sunday morning in July of 1915 was a small but prophetic paragraph referred to in newspaper terminology as a sidebar Quote.

Natalie Zett:

According to steamship men, the amount of damages the relatives of the persons who lost their lives on the Eastland can recover is only to the extent of the value of the hull. It was estimated to be $10,000. It was estimated to be $10,000. The steamship men were simply pointing out that, however fearful the toll, admiralty law limited damages to the value of the surviving wreckage. It was an insidious law, energetically sustained and supported by shipping interests for years, and one that obviously deprived survivors of disasters or their families from compensation, no matter what the circumstances, how qualified the officers in charge of a stricken ship had proven to be or, for that matter, how negligent had been the owners and managers.

Natalie Zett:

But it was the law. Punish the guilty, was the cry of city, state and federal authorities, who immediately began separate investigations. State's attorney McClay Hoyne indicated that his inquiry might reveal quote an incredible story of human avarice and graft. District Attorney Charles F Klein was instructed by Federal Judge Kennesaw Mountain Landis, later Commissioner of Baseball, to invoke the full force of federal law to ferret out the facts and fix the liability. The federal law, unlike the civil admiralty law, which dealt most leniently in regards to monetary compensation, had drastic provisions against corruption or criminal negligence on the part of boat owners, their officers and public officials, including steamboat inspectors. In instances of disasters that resulted in loss of life, the penalty was $10,000. Fine or imprisonment for 10 years, or both. Fine or imprisonment for 10 years or both. Punishments for similar offenses under the state law called for a $5,000 fine and or three years imprisonment.

Natalie Zett:

The official indignation was enthusiastically supported by Victor A Hollander, secretary of the Lake Seaman's Union, who charged that the Federal Inspection Service was worse than a farce. Mr Hoyne, with evidence supplied by Mr Ollender, pointed out that the United States Inspection Bureau had full warning of the dangerous conditions of lake excursion boats a full year before the dreadful calamity that had befallen the Eastland. In the wake of the fist-shaking and righteous desk-thumping, coroner Hoffman ordered the arrest of every official of the Indiana Transportation Company, chief of Police Charles C Healy, with Captain Pedersen and First Mate Fisher already in custody. Ordered further arrests of the Eastland's crew, from Chief Engineer Erickson to the Mess Boys, 29 in all. Ironically, at the time Mr Greenbaum was entering into contract with Mr Malmros of the Hawthorne Club's Picnic Committee.

Natalie Zett:

Operators of most of the Great Lakes passenger and excursion fleets were still congratulating themselves on obtaining important concessions and changes in the recently passed La Follette Law, which originally sought to require vessel operators to supply more lifeboats and increase the crews on their boats. To supply more lifeboats and increase the crews on their boats Albert W Goodrich of the Goodrich Fleet, a A Shantz of the Detroit and Cleveland Navigation Company and Thomas F Newman of the Cleveland and Buffalo Transit Company had all appeared before congressional committees contending that if they were required to carry lifeboat capacity for every person aboard, every passenger vessel on the Great Lakes would stay tied up at the docks. To many, this sounded like a threat rather than a simple statement of fact Under consideration. For 22 years the law had been proposed by the various seamen's unions, who pointed out that the crowded boats often operated literally with a skeleton crew of experienced seamen and that in emergencies the passengers would be the ultimate losers. A case in point relative to the Eastland was dramatized by Dr Fred W Farr, one of the rescue physicians, who was photographed aboard the ship pointing to a topside compartment of 100 life preservers, unused because the compartment was padlocked and remained so while the Eastland's crew fled the ship unscathed and while hundreds of passengers floundered about in the water. Later it took workmen with crowbars to pry loose the padlocks and staples that held the door closed. What were they saving them for, questioned Dr Farr, thank you.

Natalie Zett:

By Monday, all but 14 of the dead at the armory and various undertaking establishments had been identified. The known toll at this time was 810, with more thought to be deep in the overturned hull as the number at the armory had dwindled. There developed a heart-tugging mystery. There developed a heart-tugging mystery. Still unidentified was a small boy, obviously dressed in his Sunday best, as the picnic occasion merited. On the tag he was number 396. No more, no less. Who is number 396, the newspaper asked who is the little feller? Coroner Hoffman suspected that the lad remained unnamed because his parents were still included among the unidentified or were perhaps still in the Eastlands' submerged rooms or passages.

Natalie Zett:

The small, quiet form of the little feeller had a curious psychological effect on Chicagoans. To them, the single, lonely, unclaimed victim symbolized the enormity of the catastrophe, the fickle forces of adversity and a fate which, for the grace of God, could have been theirs. Who is the Little Fller? Everyone asked. In the wake of frequent vengeful promises by the prosecuting authorities to punish the guilty inspectors, owners and crew, and the certainty that the red tape of legal procedures would be further complicated by the defense of the politically powerful vessel operators, one paper returned some semblance of perspective to the scene by asking who speaks, for the little feller had been moved, pointed to him and said that's him, that's Willie.

Natalie Zett:

The two were playmates of Willie Novotny, walter and Willie Chech, but an uncle from another city did not agree with the identification. But we've been living right next door to them, protested the Chech brothers. We was at his birthday party when he turned seven. Get Willie's grandmother. She's all that's left next door. She'll tell you, willie's grandmother, who had already buried her daughter, son-in-law and eight-year-old Mamie, was Agnes Martnik, obviously in a state of shock, distraught and plagued with a language barrier. Unaccountably, she had failed to notify authorities that there was still another Novotny missing. Brought to the mortuary in tears, she was carrying a small bundle. Opened by a policeman, it revealed a small pair of brown knickerbockers, never worn. If it's Willie, he's got on pants like these. She haltingly explained. It was a new suit he went to the picnic in and two pairs of pants came with it. These are the other pair. Number 396 was indeed Willie Novotny For the tragedy-plagued Plamondon family.

Natalie Zett:

One might say their predilection for mass disaster was predictable, almost ordained by fate. First to feel the brush of death was young Charlotte Plamondon, but shamefully overcrowded Iroquois theater that fateful day of December 30, 1903, when the scenery caught fire and precipitated a conflagration and panic that killed 602 people. Miraculously rescued, but in a state of collapse, she was prostrated for weeks when Captain Walther Schwieger of the German submarine U-20, unleashed a torpedo at the Lusitania, off the head of Kinsdale, ireland, on May 7, 1915, it had, as the saying goes, the Plamondon name on it. Charlotte's parents, mr and Mrs Charles A Plamondon, were among the 1,198 lost, 124 of them American. Now again, just over two months later, there were nine Plamondons aboard the overcrowded Eastland, apparently with no premonition of calamity. Only eight came home that night.

Natalie Zett:

Susie C Plamondon had been the latest victim of the family, with a curious affinity for wholesale tragedy, the Benkees, when they handed little three-year-old Martha up to the arms of a helpful stranger. Year old Martha up to the arms of a helpful stranger expected to join her in safety as soon as they had wended their way over the steel plates of the Eastland and across the temporary bridge formed by the tug Kenosha. But little Martha and the stranger had both been swallowed up in the mass of hysterical humanity. Nor could the kind people who had been part of the human chain recall what happened to her. Panic-stricken, they appealed to the Chicago Tribune for help. The Tribune, true to its credo as being the world's greatest newspaper, ran a story Missing. The story began Martha Benke, age 3. Please return to Mr and Mrs Julius Benke, 3816 South Lincoln Street, or call Yards 5419, and Mrs Benke will send Mr Benke for a child.

Natalie Zett:

The reunion was prompt and tearful For Edward Bartlett and Leroy Bennett, who began their long association as enemies and soon became fast friends. The end had come quickly and mercifully on the lower deck. Twenty years earlier, as strangers, they had faced each other in a long and bloody prize fight in George Kerwin's saloon. Both fought to utter exhaustion, collapsing in each other's arms. They had walked out of the saloon as admiring friends and were as close as brothers thereafter. Bartlett was not a member of the Eastlands crew but tended bar for a concessionaire. Bennett was his trusted assistant. When divers found them, they were again clasped in each other's arms, just as at the end of that savage fight at Kerwin's Saloon, but this time it was an embrace of death.

Natalie Zett:

The Long Lines of Victims, the long lines of victims were growing in the 2nd Regiment Armory when charges were being fired at the Western Electric Company in general and at the Hawthorne Club in particular, charges intimating that the club was not the happy and benevolent organization outsiders considered it to be, but an insidious and malignant agent of management and a source of bitter resentment among those who feared not to comply with its demands, sobbing with uncontrolled grief and raising his fists to the Almighty as he stood over the bodies of his daughters, agnes and Anna. Anthony Tice charged that his girls both employees of Department no 2311, had been forced to buy tickets and go to the picnic. They forced them to go, he yelled. I begged them to stay at home, but Anna told me she would lose her job if she didn't go. She said the foreman of her department, mr Patterson, had warned her that unless she and Agnes went, their names would be scratched from the payroll. Speaking for another cold form, that of Agnes Kaspersky, the girl who was afraid of water was her uncle County Commissioner Thomas Kaspersky. Agnes' fear of water had been conquered by her fear of losing her job, kaspersky said flatly.

Natalie Zett:

Numbers of survivors came forward to report that they bought tickets only because they thought they would lose their jobs if they did not do so. Many of them said that the foremen of their departments hinted strongly that they would be expected to go. Others asserted that employees who did not accompany the excursionists the year before were subsequently laid off without apparent reason. I was working for the Western Electric Company last year and did not go to the picnic, volunteered Frank Baubies. Shortly after I was laid off and I was never able to learn why Several other employees who I knew had similar experiences. Several other employees who I knew had similar experiences. Peter Frazino, white and trembling, identified the body of his wife, anna, 19 years old. He dropped weakly into a chair and told his story. Oh if I hadn't taken tickets, even if it cost me my job, he moaned.

Natalie Zett:

The employees of the Western Electric Company held two big parades on the company's ground just last week. The foreman of the various departments talked to those working under them and told them the plan for the excursion. We'll all have a great time, they said. Everybody will be happy. It will be the biggest thing we've ever done. The factory's going to close down and everybody's going. We will arrange it so you can each take your wife or best girl and two or three friends. Tickets for the trip will cost you only 75 cents each. The foremen themselves distribute the tickets.

Natalie Zett:

Frazina continued. I was in the Japanning department. I got tickets for my wife and myself. The foreman's name was John Jensen. We got the impression that our jobs were no good unless we went along. Some of us didn't want to go, but we finally decided to because we didn't want to be fired. Other unhappy ticket holders complained that department booster clubs parroted the words and wishes of the foreman, putting undue pressure on employees to support and attend dinners, banquets, concerts, social events and especially the big picnic at Michigan City. Among the first documents seized by state's attorney Hoyne was the contract between the Hawthorne Club's Mr Malmus and the Indiana Transportation Company, one which gave every incentive for the hard-sell ticket campaigns among the workers. It provided for a substantial rebate for the club to be subtracted from the adult ticket charges on a sliding scale basis 42.5 cents on 2,500 or more tickets, 45 cents if more than 3,500 tickets were sold and a 50-cent rebate on sales beyond $4,100. I'm going to jump ahead here, actually jump to the end only because Dwight does go on for quite a while with the court testimonies, but it's this very last part that I want to read to you.

Natalie Zett:

In 1946, the USS Wilmette nay, eastland was offered for sale as scrap by the government. Potential buyers ranged her haul, tapping her plates and gauging her ribs in estimating the yield in tons of good melting stock. In the end the successful bidder judged her to be worth $2,500, and in due time. His workers attacked her with their burning torches. Pound by pound and ton by ton, they reduced her to fragments. Finally, 43 years after she had made her troublesome and cranky decision in the ship's long wake of trouble and travail, was announced. Quote in Chicago. The teletypes in newspaper offices clicked out. The United States Circuit Court of Appeals today upheld a district court ruling that the St Joseph Chicago Steamship Company, former owners of the steamer Eastland, which sank in the Chicago River on July 24, 1915, is not liable for the 835 deaths in the disaster. The court held, as predicted on the day after the disaster, that the company was liable only to the extent of the salvage value of the vessel, that the boat was seaworthy, that the operators had taken proper precautions and that the responsibility was traced to an engineer who neglected to fill the ballast tanks properly. End quote. Finally, 20 years after he had marched so happily over the Eastlands gangway, there was no point in anyone speaking up again for the little feller, in anyone speaking up again for the little feller.

Natalie Zett:

I've been reading from True Tales of the Great Lakes by Dwight Boyer, copyright 1971, and the chapter is called who Speaks for the Little Feller, littlefeller. I'm forever grateful to Dwight Boyer for the work that he did in this chapter it's not even an entire book devoted to the Eastland disaster because he honored the memory of those people in a way that I've seldom seen. So I want to say thank you, dwight. Somewhere I know you're hearing this, so next week I'll share an article with you that referenced Dwight's book. As far as I can tell, outside of George Hilton, this is the only place it's been formally referenced or cited as a source of information and inspiration. So in that chapter, who Speaks for the Little Feller?

Natalie Zett:

Dwight Boyer brought up a cast, a huge cast of people, and he shared brief biographies of many of them, and what I'm going to do next week is highlight several of them who have not really gotten their due in the 21st century. At least, in any website or writing that I've seen about the Eastland disaster, if they're listed at all, it's simply date of birth, date of death, where they're buried. But there's so much more to them than that, and Dwight already brought that forward. It's curious that this information seems to have gotten lost, or did it get lost, I don't know, but I'm trying to make sure that each one of these people, no matter how brief their life was. We want to make sure that they're not reduced to simply a name and a date of birth and a date of death. They were so much more and they are so much more, so we will continue next week.

Natalie Zett:

Have a great week, take care of yourselves, take care of each other. Take care of yourselves, take care of each other. Hey, that's it for this episode and thanks for coming along for the ride. Please subscribe or follow so you can keep up with all the episodes, and for more information, please go to my website, that's wwwflowerintherivercom. I hope you'll consider buying my book, available as audiobook, e-book, paperback and hardcover, because I still owe people money that this podcast and my book are dedicated to the memory of all who experienced the Eastland disaster of 1915. Goodbye for now.

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