Ship Captain's Daughter by Ann Michler Lewis-Book Review-Five Stars

 

BOOK REVIEW – FIVE STARS

Ship Captain's Daughter by Ann Michler Lewis 

This is the story of the author’s father Willis Carl Michler who sailed the Great Lakes for forty-seven years and was a captain of thirteen different ships.

The captain’s daughter wrote that he was “Drawn to the water and the big ships as a young man, he followed a dream of becoming a Great Lakes ship captain, and he and my mother and I lived it out together, in all its rich and varied and demanding dimensions.”

I grew up at the head of the Great Lakes in Superior, Wisconsin. Great Lakes freighters were a common sight. As a youth I was fascinated by the bum boats that supplied the supplied the ships crew with their daily needs while the ships were docked loading and unloading cargo. When I was still in high school I would take my parents speed boat out in the Duluth/Superior harbor and tie up to the bum boat where I could buy beer.

The captain’s daughter also enjoyed her experience of visiting the bum boats.

Here is a look at those Bum boats from the authors own experience.

"When I felt my first foot on the deck, I started to breathe again. He took my hand, and we made our way to the little door. Four steps down and, phew! The smell of sweet tobacco made me gag. I plugged my nose and hesitated, but the cheery calendar girls smiling and winking all around were very welcoming, not to mention the ladies on the covers of magazines on the book rack. Half of our ship’s crew was in there, talking and laughing, drinking beer and smoking and telling jokes. No other girls in there, that’s for sure! Dad quickly steered me around to the back, which was so crowded that I disappeared in between the cases of watches, bins of underwear and socks, boxes of birthday cards, bottles of perfume, razors, aftershave, and columns of cartons of Camels and Lucky Strikes. All sizes of transistor radios covered the walls from floor to ceiling. I noticed a whole section of cough medicines and a display of Brylcreem with a big cardboard picture of a man with curly dark brown hair and a blond woman with her hand behind his ear. What I liked best of all, though, were the boxes of candy and gum lined up in double rows in front of the cash register right next to the cigarette lighters. Behind the register stood Mr. Kaner, who was gruff, gravelly voiced, and kind of scary to a young customer like myself. He seemed to know everyone by name and was passing on the news from the last ship, where he had just seen a sailor who had previously been on our ship. When he saw me, his bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. I took a step backward, but he came around the counter, bent down, and made a big fuss over me, telling me that I was beautiful and that I had been brave to come down. Afterward, he took me over to the freezer and let me pick out a free ice cream bar. Dad bought a Dreamsicle for himself, and we said good-bye to Mr. Kaner and went out on deck to eat our treats.”

This book is an excellent look at the life of a Great Lakes ship captain’s family in the years when America was loved and envied. A great book!

More excerpts from Ship Captain's Daughter by Ann Michler Lewis

Father’s sailing career spanned the height of Great Lakes iron ore shipping, the lows of the Great Depression, World War II (during which time the sailors served the country as members of the Merchant Marine), the opening of the St. Lawrence Seaway, the advent of radar, and the development of the taconite trade. He sailed before the invention of computers, GPS, cell phones, email, and Skype—and before sailors could apply for summer vacations. When I was growing up, we relied on letters.

Today the ships that traverse the Great Lakes can be tracked on the internet. Many are twice the size of the freighters my dad first sailed, though at this writing, my father’s last command, the SS Herbert C.

Most people in Duluth welcomed spring. For our family, it was the beginning of the end, not only of winter, but also of our land time together. When the days grew longer and the ice on Lake Superior began to break up, Dad’s shipping orders were soon to come. Every day they didn’t was a relief.

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The Bohemian Flats: A Novel by Mary Relindes BOOK REVIEW- FIVE STARS

BOOK REVIEW: FIVE STARS

The Bohemian Flats: A Novel by Mary Relindes

An excellent book for the generations of immigrants who lost track of the historical divisions that precipitated wars and land grabs that continue to this day.

As a child born in 1940 my first recollections of WW ll was the slogan “Kill the Nazis” that turned into this: “Kill the Germans”. Ironically that war that ended in 1945 was the last war that America would win.

Historically speaking this well-written monumental book is a great eye opener.

Excerpts:

“There is nothing much for you and Albert here in Germany, being second and third sons. Nothing to inherit. You need to become more fluent in English. Albert is nearly there. Because when you become men, you will need to leave this country, leave Europe. It is America you must go to. There at least you will have the chance to find what the French call joie de vivre—the joy of life.”

He strolls through neighborhoods, rich, middle class, and working poor, seeing that the definition of each level remains the same. The rich have large and opulent houses set back from the road with large flower gardens and lawns, many gated to keep uninvited pedestrians out. The middle class have smaller but still comfortable houses, sitting on just enough of a lot to command some respectable grass frontage. The poor neighborhoods are like the Flats, a group of Minneapolis police officers are forcing an Indian family to leave the teepee they had pitched among the trees next to a sash and door company. He watches city workers dismantle the teepee, stack the lodge poles, and pile up the hides that covered them. The Indian family watches impassively but Raymundo recognizes the deep reserve of grief.

The Lutherans in Augsburg saw miracles as flamboyant displays of Catholic mysticism and a shameless way to peddle holy relics: something the Protestants had gotten rid of with the Reformation.

They had learned about the Peace of Augsburg agreement in 1555, allowing the two religions to coexist with uneasy duality.

“Do not tell me what is blasphemous!” “This discussion is clearly pointless,” Albert interjects. “We are withdrawing our sons from the school. My wife and I will teach them at home. Good day.” “Then they will be cast into ignorance,” the priest shouts as they walk away. Magdalena turns around. “I doubt that very much. It is you who is ignorant. Damnant quodnon intelligent.” The old priest stares at her. She reads his thoughts as though he has spoken. The Jew speaks Latin. He makes the sign of the cross with a shaking hand.

The Fox Lake people found the name of the church and school strange—Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow—and after seeing a man nailed to a crosshatch of logs inside, concluded that the Catholics were obsessed with sorrow, death, and punishment.

She thinks of Ernst Hasse, the founder of the Alldeutsche Verband—the Pan-German League—and what he said, published in an Augsburg newspaper in 1891. We want territory even if it belongs to foreigners, so that we may shape the future according to our needs. Her mother was horrified, her father disgusted.

They know now that the book that Raymond had sent to them—Northern Wisconsin: A Hand-book for the Homeseeker—was greatly exaggerated and full of outright lies in some parts.

It was a book that lured Joseph Weir to this part of Wisconsin. They have since learned that the lumber companies, after decimating the land of its timber, colluded in the lie so that they could unload what they considered worthless land onto to unsuspecting immigrants.

It upset them but did not deter them.

She is no longer in control of what happens, is no longer so safe from harm. There is a bigger world, a world in which people hate other people based on where they are from.

Father Boland is affected by the disturbing news but refuses to have his German parishioners bear the guilt of actions they are not a part of. Rather than destroy the books, he has put them in the rectory’s attic.

The number of German deserters has skyrocketed; more have given themselves up as prisoners, desperate for food and sick of fighting. Some of them are thrilled when Americans capture them. “I want to be a citizen of America,” a young private announced to Eberhard, his hands still in the air.

Even if he had the money, he fears what would happen in his absence if he left the front line of the battle. He also fears that a visit would ensnare him into becoming involved in the inevitable second war. And he won’t do that. He’s done his service. He won’t abandon the Flats again. Goddamn Hitler! he thinks. Goddamn Minneapolis!

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The Collaborator by Diane Armstrong Book Review-Five Stars

 

BOOK REVIEW FIVE STARS

The Collaborator by Diane Armstrong

The Collaborator is a captivating historical novel laced with factual incidents that build suspense while enticing you with apprehension. This fast moving story is spellbinding from beginning to end, edited with surprising twists and turns.

EXCERPTS;

She learns that in 1944 the Nazis invaded Hungary and disenfranchised the Jews with the co-operation of the government. Horrified, she tries to imagine a world where your government turns against you, where phones are disconnected, radios confiscated, car and bus travel forbidden, bank accounts frozen, and employment terminated. You wake up one day and discover that you are a despised nonperson in your own country. He knows that for most people, denying reality is preferable to confronting a disturbing truth.

One way or another, for noble motives or base ones, or merely from self-interest and the urge to survive, war turns us all into collaborators.

‘Everyone believes in peace in theory,’ he says quietly. ‘It’s the reality that’s the problem. For peace to take place, both parties have to want it, not just one.

We believe that if you wait for the other side to give in nothing will ever change. And if we let our government keep stealing Palestinian land and building more settlements, things will only get worse.’

They call themselves Israel First. They reckon we’re Palestinian collaborators, and threaten us with divine vengeance because we’re agitating for a two-state solution,’ he said. ‘They could be connected with the extremists who killed my grandfather, but even if they’re not, they might know something about Moshe Binsztok. Just tread carefully. They’re zealots with fundamentalist ideas and they don’t take kindly to opposing views.’

‘It’s like what George Bernard Shaw said about communism. If you’re not a communist when you’re young, you have no heart, but if you’re still a communist when you’re old, you have no brain.’

A point to ponder: When a slave finally over throws his master the first thing the freed slave does is go out and get himself a slave.

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November's Fury: The Deadly Great Lakes Hurricane of 1913 by Michel Schumacher-book Review-Five Stars

 

BOOK REVIEW - FIVE STARS

November's Fury: The Deadly Great Lakes Hurricane of 1913 by Michel Schumacher

I loved this fact-filled true story. My wife Jane and I have sailed the Great Lakes, their connecting rivers and locks to the Atlantic Ocean via the St. Lawrence Seaway. Our first voyage starting in Superior, Wisconsin, was on our home built and designed 46 foot sailing vessel Dursmirg. We have also transited the Atlantic, the St. Lawrence Seaway, and the Great Lakes by freighter.

We have witnessed in a November windstorm a large lake freighters broached sideways by a single wave through the Superior, Wisconsin, entry, and then miraculously straighten up in the blink of an eye to glide through the entry channel unscathed. That episode gave us everlasting nightmares.

EXCERPTS:

A “PERFECT STORM” on the Great Lakes, it would be the one that pounded the lakes from November 7 through November 10, 1913, leaving a wake of destruction unlike anything ever seen on freshwater at any point in recorded history. By the time the storm had blown out of the region, twelve boats had sunk, thirty-one more had been grounded on rocks or beaches, and dozens more were severely damaged. More than 250 men lost their lives. Eight boats, with their entire crews, were lost in a single day on Lake Huron alone.

Out on the lakes, hurricane-force winds built thirty- to forty-foot waves that mercilessly assaulted vessels unfortunate enough to be out on the water—

Similar weather conditions might revisit the lakes, but advances in science, technology, and communications have made it easier to stay out of harm’s way.

Larson described the sheer force generated by the kind of waves on Lakes Michigan and Superior and, later, Lake Huron: “A single cubic yard of water weighs about fifteen hundred pounds,” Larson wrote. “A wave fifty feet long and ten feet high has a static weight of over eighty thousand pounds. Moving at thirty miles an hour, it generates forward momentum of over two million pounds.”

The wind velocity on the open water vastly exceeded the velocities recorded on land.

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