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Reuniting with Grandfather’s ‘Good Ship Tobermory’ on its 100th birthday
Dennis Dougherty of Sault Ste Marie, Mich., spent many years fondly looking out at the “Champion,” (F.W. Wakefield’s dream ship “Tobermory II” that he had designed and built according to his own plans in 1924) that lay partially submerged on a sand bar near his house on the St. Mary’s River.
Looking at the old “Champ” brought back many good memories for Dennis of his grandfather, Gerald D. Neville, who had once captained the boat for the Pittsburgh Coal Company. Dennis had spent many happy days on the “Champ” as she made her trips ferrying people from Lime Island back and forth to the mainland and offering other services in the Upper Michigan area.
One day, as such big projects come about, the kind that lie deep in the brain like a sleeping mouse and suddenly awaken with the roar of a lion… Dennis decided he would pull the old “Champ” out of the muck and restore her to its original glory.
He had been thinking for some time about buying a boat he could use to charter for dives in the Lake Huron area. Why not pull out the old Champion, restore her to her natural beauty and use her for his diving expeditions?
Dennis had no illusions. He knew it would be a massive job because as far as he could figure, “Champ” had been left on the sand bar for about two decades.
I can only imagine what Tunee must have thought about Dennis’s proposed project that began in the late 1970s. I was amazed to hear of Tunee’s grand acceptance of this project, for she was the one that would suffer Dennis’s total engrossment in a project that she knew would be expensive and take many years to complete. Thanks to Tunee, the project went ahead with her full support!
He bought the boat from the man who owned the title of the Champ for $800 in 1977 and began salvage the following year. His total investment of money was about $10,000 because he was able to do most of the work himself.
The first challenge was to get a crane to lift “Champ” out of the muck. He ended up having to go under the hull himself and dig a channel to pull the tugboat out of her two decades grave and hoist her on the hard in his backyard. Dennis’s diving skills helped him do much of the tunneling under the hull that was required to loosen her from the riverbed’s grip.
The next step was to find and purchase the “W.R. Busch,” an old fish tug built in 1924 (the same year as the “Tobermory”) and about the same size as the “Champ.” It was a near perfect fit and using the “Busch” to help move her to shore, he set both ships on the hard side by side in his backyard. The fish tug was a perfect match for most of the parts he needed to restore “Champ.”
Now every time Tunee looked out the kitchen window she had the good fortune to see not one but two big old boats on the hard! What woman could ask for anything more?
But what fun it was for Dennis, who is the type of man who loves big challenges! Talk about convenience, every time he needed an old part for “Champ” he merely climbed down from her and climbed up to the “W.R. Busch” and helped himself. Slowly and surely “Champ” came back to life. Dennis named the restored good ship after his grandfather, “Gerald D. Neville.”
I could identify with Dennis’s loving memory of his grandfather as I had the same feeling about my grandfather.
During my visit to see the restoral of the good ship this last year I realized that we both shared a great love for our grandfathers.
When Dennis finally replaced the original diesel engine and he was able to turn the ignition over and hear the now “Gerald D. Neville” come to life, he said… “‘Every time I turn the key I think of my grandfather.” Oddly so many years later, I felt the same way when Dennis first turned on the “Neville’s” engine for me. I thought of F.W. Wakefield.
That day Dennis and Tunee took us out for a tour of the St. Mary’s River and out into the channel where the Big Boys pass in and out of the locks. Sure enough, it was as if Dennis had ordered it to give the Virginians a thrill. A 1,000-plus footer, “Edwin H. Gott,” pulled out of the lock and came steaming toward us. She was a monster ship and what an experience to have her pass us in the “Neville” within 100 yards! It was a sight I shall never forget!
The next morning, we met Dennis and Tunee at one of the Sault Historic Sites, a museum within a “retired” freighter! It was certainly exciting to enter the front door leading into the second deck where we were greeted with a letter from Curator Paul Sabourin who had worked hand in hand with Dennis to display a three part presentation of the yacht turned tugboat “Tobermory II,” “Champion” and “Gerald D. Neville.”
We stopped to look at the fine collection of oil paintings on display of freighters set in all kinds of weather and seas — some peacefully moving through still waters at dawn or sunset with fabulous pink or orange skies and others during great storms with seas roiled to massive waves making the ship look as if it were surely doomed.
Which recalled the many souls who have been lost at sea on the Great Lakes, tens and thousands of hands that have disappeared into the depths of cold waters and never to be found again. Storms on the Great Lakes are notorious for producing seas so powerful that they can break a freighter in two as easily as a man might snap a green bean in half.
One of the best known Great Lakes tragedies in my generation, at least, was the loss of the “Edmund Fitzgerald” that went down in Lake Superior in 1975. All hands were lost.
I remember the song that came out afterwards that became popular that told the tragic tale of this sad event.
The museum had a display that featured the tragedy including two lifeboats that were found empty after the disaster. The savage wear and tear of the lifeboats showed the scars from the ferocious storm conditions that night when the “Fitzgerald” went down.
Dennis stopped to show me a model of the “John D. Bradley,” a freighter that had once saved his grandfather’s life. He told me how on one stormy night in November 1939 his grandfather was on “Badger State” tug with an inexperienced captain from the Mississippi River that did not know the danger and ferocity of Great Lakes storms. Neville said there were 65 mph winds and 20 foot waves they encountered that night. Neville tried to warn the captain that the tug was taking on too much water for the pump to manage but by then it was too late.
Neville was able to loosen the ropes on the lifeboat and shoot up flares before the tug sank. He was soon in the icy water but was able to grab hold of the lifeboat.
The “Bradley” was in the area, saw the flares and came to the scene. With a floodlight that swept the furious seas, the crew miraculously spotted Neville, who by that time had been in the frigid water 45 minutes and was so weak he could hardly hang on to the rope they threw to him.
Neville was saved. Ironically the very same freighter that saved his life went down almost 20 years later in yet another terrible storm. “I have often thought,” Dennis said, “that if that freighter hadn’t come along at that very moment in time to rescue my grandfather, I wouldn’t be here.”
We stood in front of the model and thought about this truth for a few moments. Such events that happen in life, as if by accident, determine our very existence and such thoughts perhaps make those of us that are alive today even more appreciative of the very miracle of our existence.
We descended into the bottom deck of the museum and walked on the rough metal bottom of the freighter’s hull that had once been ladened with freight. Walking was difficult, it was a bit like walking on a rocky beach, and my legs soon gave out. Tunee found a wheelchair so Dennis could spirit me along on the bumpy floor. It was my first experience in a wheelchair and somewhat embarrassing… but I sure appreciated the help.
But the best was yet to come. Denny took me to the three-part display he had created depicting the life of the 100 years of the old “Tob,” “Champ” and now “Gerald D. Neville.”
(Conclusion next week)
