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This week, I remember Dave Nelson, who passed away on July 10, 2026, just before the 111th anniversary of the Eastland disaster.
And yet his name rarely surfaces in the retellings his own work made possible.
Dave was the grandson of Elmer Nelson (born Knute David Hjalmar Nilsson in Kalmar, Sweden), an ironworker who helped cut through the Eastland's hull to free trapped passengers in 1915 and was awarded a Silver Star by the Cook County Coroner for his valor.
Watching The Poseidon Adventure brought his grandfather to mind and set Dave in motion in 1972! What he and his wife Rose built over the years became the most extensive collection of Eastland memorabilia in existence.
I wrote to Dave in the late 1990s after I had just discovered my family's connection to this disaster that I'd never heard of. He dropped everything to open his Eastland Museum (in downtown Chicago) late one night just for me and my friend. He gave us the grand tour and regaled us with the story of the Eastland as if he had been an eyewitness to it! By the time we were done, I was overwhelmed in the best possible way. I thanked him over and over, but he refused my donation. As we were winding down the visit, he looked at me, smiled and said, "Natalie, I'm afraid you've been Eastland-ized." I replied, "If that's true, then it's your fault, Mr. Eastland."
I also revisit a 1989 Chicago Tribune article, "The Eastland Remembered," documenting the Nelsons' 17-year labor of love, their refusal to charge admission, and their fight to keep the collection open. I remember Dave as someone who authentically cared about the Eastland and those whose lives were forever changed by it. It was never about him, but about his work to ensure the history of the Eastland and its people was preserved.
Mr. Eastland, you've left the stage, but your influence and your work continue.
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A capsized ship at a Chicago dock should not have happened. Except, it did.
Today, we go looking for the people who translated that shock into a demand for justice while the city was still counting its dead: the editorial cartoonists. Their names rarely appear in modern accounts of the Eastland disaster, but in 1915 their drawings exposed hypocrisy, challenged officials, and said what polite prose often would not.
We also return to the story of Willie Novotny, the child known for days only as “No. 396,” and why his identification prompted such a powerful outpouring of sympathy. From there, we read a 1915 Cartoons Magazine article that points to lax inspection laws, questionable safeguards, and a system seemingly more interested in protecting itself than protecting ordinary workers, women, and children. It is a vivid snapshot of how Chicago wrestled with grief, accountability, and the fear that the investigation would end in a whitewash.
Finally, we meet three essential artists: Luther Daniels Bradley, John T. McCutcheon, and Bob Satterfield. Bradley asks the blunt question, “Whose safety first?” McCutcheon skewers the familiar pattern of investigations that come “too late,” and Satterfield’s on-the-scene sketching gives historians and genealogists a rare primary source from the riverfront itself.
If you care about the Eastland disaster, Chicago history, political cartoons, or the way public memory gets edited over time, this story belongs in your feed.
Resources:
Cartoons Magazine, Vol. 8, No. 3, September 1915. H. H. Windsor, editor and publisher. Chicago. Digitized by Google Books.
Bradley, Luther Daniels. Cartoons by Bradley: Cartoonist of the Chicago Daily News, with a Biographical Sketch and an Appreciation. Chicago: Rand McNally & Company, 1917. Internet Archive.
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As we get closer to the 111th anniversary of the Eastland Disaster (July 24, 1915) in the Chicago River, we learn what careful writers actually put on the page--and what modern revisions often leave out.
We look at why poets and journalists who wrote about the Eastland disaster, such as Edith Wyatt, Agnes Lee, Olive Carruthers, Carl Sandberg, and others, are mostly missing from today’s accounts. We also focus on one key figure: Great Lakes reporter and maritime historian Dwight Boyer. In his chapter “Who Speaks for the Little Feller?” from True Tales of the Great Lakes (1971), Boyer draws on primary sources, courtroom records, and interviews to tell the Eastland's story with accuracy and respect for the victims as real people.
At the center of Boyer’s account is “Victim 396,” a child dressed in Sunday clothes who remained unidentified for days. Eventually, two of his friends and his grandmother recognized him as Willie Novotny (Vilém Novotný).
Next, we look at how the legal aftermath dragged on, with responsibility reduced to technical details and salvage value. We also mention Michael Schumacher’s Along Lake Michigan: Shipwreck Stories of Life and Loss (2025), which explains why it was so hard to determine the death toll in such chaos, especially when children were not always counted and survivors moved between hospitals without clear records.
If you want to dig deeper into Chicago history, the Eastland disaster, genealogy research, and learn how historical accuracy gets built, broken and restored, this conversation is for you.
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Sometimes, a single newspaper article can pull lives back from the shadows. Today, I want to share the story behind one of my most treasured discoveries: writer and journalist Olive Carruthers. Her 1952 Evanston Review piece, “How Evanstonians Assisted in the Eastland Disaster,” brings the 1915 Eastland tragedy in Chicago into sharp, unforgettable focus. Long after the Eastland rolled into the Chicago River during the Western Electric picnic, Olive sought out Evanston residents, collected their memories, and wove them into a gripping narrative that saves names other histories have let slip away.
We step into the raw moments Olive refused to soften: the frantic surge of rescuers, the dread that someone you love might be lost, and diver Enoch Moberg plunging into a world turned upside down, filled with ladders, darkness, wreckage, and the unthinkable. We trace the aftermath through Catherine O’Reilly’s desperate search for her brother Patrick, the jolt of grief and hardship that struck survivors’ families, and the wave of community relief that rose up in the days that followed.
Then Olive steps out from behind the byline and into the spotlight. We follow her journey from Wisconsin to Chicago and Kentucky, exploring her life as a novelist and book critic. Gerald McMurtry offers heartfelt thanks for Olive saving his manuscript and for their partnership on Lincoln’s Other Mary. He also leaves us with a description for the ages: Olive as a “chain-smoking, gravel-voiced time bomb.” Some writers are memorable. Olive apparently came with a warning label.
I close with Olive’s own words on why Chicago held her and what it meant to write with real freedom.
If you love uncovering the hidden stories of the Eastland disaster, or if Chicago history, genealogy, and archival sleuthing spark your curiosity, this episode is made for you. Subscribe or follow, share it with a fellow history enthusiast, and leave a review to help others discover these long-lost tales.
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The Eastland disaster didn't vanish into the Chicago River — it scattered into poems, magazines, archives, and family research, waiting for someone to go looking.
In this episode, I push back on the idea that “history forgot” the Eastland disaster. History didn't forget. The records are there in abundance. What’s missing is the willingness to look past the easy summary and find them.
We return to Agnes Lee, a major voice in Chicago's literary scene, with a newly uncovered Eastland poem and a deep dive into her life and work. Then the trail takes an unexpected turn — straight to The Prison Mirror, a prisoner-run newspaper out of Stillwater, Minnesota. It's not a detour. It's a reminder that the most important sources often live outside the places we assume to search.
From there, I introduce Harriet Monroe, founder of Poetry magazine, and explain how her "open door" editorial policy preserved an entire community of writers responding to tragedy — Agnes Lee and Carl Sandburg among them.
You'll hear two of Lee's Eastland poems, "The Divers" and "Eastland Waters" — works that belong in any serious conversation about the 1915 disaster, Chicago history, public memory, and the ethics of retelling.
If you enjoy learning about overlooked voices of the Eastland disaster, subscribe, share this episode, and leave a review so more listeners can find Flower in the River.
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As the 111th anniversary of the Eastland disaster approaches, the podcast turns toward the writers, poets, artists, and witnesses who captured the tragedy in their own words. Their voices, once alive with urgency, have too often been pushed aside as the Eastland’s story has been retold, revised, and diluted over the years.
This episode focuses on Carl Sandburg: poet, journalist, musician, biographer of Lincoln, chronicler of working people, and one of the fiercest literary voices to respond to the Eastland disaster.
Sandburg responded to the tragedy with both prose and poetry. He wrote “The Eastland” in 1915, but it remained hidden until 1993, when it finally surfaced in Carl Sandburg: Billy Sunday and Other Poems, edited by George Hendrick and Willene Hendrick. The poem pulses with raw fury and unmistakable Sandburg grit. It does not simply mourn; it indicts.
In this episode, I recount my discovery of Sandburg’s long-buried Eastland poem in the 1990s. I also explore what its absence from most Eastland platforms says about the shifting tides of public memory when curiosity fades and research stops.
The episode also paints a fuller picture of Sandburg’s life: his Chicago years, his connection to Poetry magazine, his years as a socialist, his attention to labor and poverty, and his enduring fascination with death, democracy, and Abraham Lincoln.
Next, I read a modified version of Sandburg’s “The Eastland.” After that, you’ll hear Sandburg himself reading “Cool Tombs,” a poem where presidents, celebrities, workers, and everyday people all share the same fate.
The Eastland disaster was never just a number, especially since the full death toll may never be known with certainty. It was always about people with hopes, dreams, griefs, fears, and frustrations. Over time, the tragedy was commodified and branded. But before that, it was a catastrophe that ripped through families, neighborhoods, churches, workplaces, and immigrant communities for years afterward. Sandburg saw this clearly. His poem still smolders.
Resources:
Sandburg, Carl. “Looking ’Em Over.” The International Socialist Review 16, no. 3 (September 1915): 132–137.
Carl Sandburg, “Cool Tombs,” on Carl Sandburg Reads the Poems of Carl Sandburg, Decca Records, DL 9039, 1957, LP recording, Internet Archive, accessed June 17, 2026.
Sandburg, Carl. Billy Sunday and Other Poems. Edited and with an introduction by George Hendrick and Willene Hendrick. San Diego: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1993
Poetry Foundation. “Carl Sandburg.” Poetry Foundation. Accessed June 17, 2026. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/carl-sandburg.
Sandburg, Carl. “The Eastland.” c. 1915. IDEALS, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign. Modern American City Verse, 1905–1925, John Timberman Newcomb. https://hdl.handle.net/2142/30232.
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This week, we return to Edith Franklin Wyatt’s July 26, 1915 article, Hawthorne, A City of Sorrow: Community Hushed by Death. Wyatt interviewed families and clergy whose lives had been touched by the Eastland Disaster, yet many of those individuals—and Wyatt herself—have been largely forgotten in 21st-century versions of the story.
This time, we meet the only Lutheran pastor Wyatt interviewed. She identified him as “the German Lutheran pastor Dr. Miles.” Sounds straightforward enough, right? Not exactly. Tracking down “Dr. Miles” and his church turned into a historical scavenger hunt that was far more difficult than I ever expected. But I love a good scavenger hunt!
Tenacity pays off — I found the key to unlocking the mystery. It’s one that I guarantee most have never heard of: the Lutheran World Almanac. Though it sounds as if it's right out of Lake Wobegon, it really was a thing.
With that clue, “Miles” becomes Reverend Louis J.C. Millies of Redeemer Lutheran Church in Cicero, and newspaper records from the Chicago Daily Tribune and later local coverage help rebuild his biography and his congregation’s connection to the Eastland disaster.
Along the way, I take a brief detour and share how working with coincidence, serendipity, synchronicity, and intuition, and honing mad research skills can be a winning combination when trying to restore long-lost history. As Martin Luther once said, “This is most certainly true!”
If Chicago history, the Eastland disaster of 1915, and practical genealogy strategies for breaking through brick walls are your thing, this episode may be right up your alley.
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One forgotten newspaper article can change how a major tragedy is remembered. I’m picking up the trail from Edith Franklin Wyatt’s July 1915 reporting to recover the accounts of two priests she interviewed after the Eastland disaster. We continue to speculate why so many parish names and their losses vanish from the “standard” retellings of Chicago’s 1915 catastrophe.
First, I introduce Father Albert J. Dedera and Mary, Queen of Heaven Church in Cicero, Illinois. This church was touched by the Eastland disaster but largely absent from modern Eastland history platforms. I also share a moment of research serendipity that ties Edith Wyatt and Father Dedera to the 1909 Cherry Mine disaster, revealing how lives, disasters, and documentation can intersect unexpectedly. Along the way, I explain what genealogists mean by reasonably exhaustive research and why a single unsourced story is never enough.
Next, I focus on Father Bronislaus Czajkowski and Our Lady of Czestochowa in Cicero. I discuss the history of the Black Madonna icon and why it became important to Polish immigrants. Finally, I share a major discovery: full digital scans of the Eastland burial records for Our Lady of Czestochowa on FamilySearch, revealing important details that are missed when only a cropped image is shared.
If you enjoy genealogy, family history, Chicago history, or the Eastland disaster, this one is for you.
Subscribe or follow Flower in the River, share this episode with a history-loving friend, and leave a review so more listeners can find these missing stories.
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A disaster can strike twice—first when it happens, and again in how it is remembered. Today, we bring back another “lost” voice of the Eastland Disaster history that has been silent for too long.
Chicago writer and social critic Edith Franklin Wyatt visited Hawthorne soon after the Eastland capsized. She wrote about what she saw in the homes of families still waiting for answers.
In Wyatt’s “Hawthorne, A City of Sorrow,” she shares the details that make history feel real: closed shops, sleepless nights, photos clutched in trembling hands, and birthdays overshadowed by grief. Her reporting keeps the voices of working-class and immigrant residents of the Western Electric Hawthorne Works community alive, showing how mourning spreads through a neighborhood and changes everything.
Wyatt goes beyond heartbreak. She asks the questions that come after the shock: Who allowed an overcrowded, unstable ship to leave? What did government inspectors do, and what did they overlook? Her claim of an “absentee government” makes the Eastland disaster a lesson in public safety, accountability, and the conditions that let preventable tragedies happen again.
If you are interested in Chicago history, the Eastland disaster, genealogy, labor history, or investigative journalism, this story connects the dots clearly and respectfully. Subscribe or follow, and share this episode with anyone who loves hidden history.
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This week, we’re continuing the biography of Eastland disaster survivor, Charles Borovansky. He has a lot more to say!
When I wrapped up my research on Charles for a previous episode, I felt that his story wasn’t finished. Tracking him backward through Chicago’s industrial labyrinth led to records hiding in plain sight. Long before the Eastland ever listed in the river, Charles’s life was a guided tour of American industrial ambition. We follow him from his Bohemian immigrant roots to his early days as a bicycle messenger and a stint at the Pullman Company. It’s here we detour into the corporate utopia of George Pullman’s company town—an experiment in total worker control that went perfectly until the workers inconveniently demanded rights during the seismic 1894 strike.
But the real find was Denní Hlasatel (Daily Herald), a Czech-language Chicago newspaper from July 25, 1915—exactly one day after the disaster. There, in print, was Charles: Western Electric chief clerk, excursion organizer, and immediate eyewitness. He gave a vivid, raw account of the ship’s sudden tilt, his leap into the river, and his rescue of a young girl whose name is lost to time.
Charles didn't just survive; he was an active hero. He even repeated his story in at least three newspapers across 25 years. Yet, somehow, as the years passed, his story disappeared.
If you’re drawn to history sleuthing, this episode is for you. Subscribe, share it with a fellow history enthusiast and leave a review. Thanks for listening!
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"Flower in the River" 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…