A long-ago Lake Ontario tragedy

A woman living off Mexico Bay, south of the Jefferson County line, looked out to Lake Ontario as fierce winds stirred mountainous waves under an ominously dark sky, and noticed a schooner struggling to survive. It was midday on Thursday, Oct. 11, 1894, when she saw the tragedy unfolding a couple of miles away.

As the craft attempted "to claw out into the lake in the teeth of the gale," according to a newspaper account, the witness watched helplessly as it "careened over three times as though heavy seas were washing on board." With the third whip of the angry water, the vessel suddenly was out of sight, sparing the woman from seeing the boat being torn to pieces and its passengers being dispatched to their horrible deaths.

What the woman obviously did not know that afternoon was the human tragedy that was evolving in Clayton with the sinking of the 307-ton schoonerHartford —five children ages 2 to 10 orphaned by the drownings of the ship's captain and his wife. Also left behind were a 43-year-old widow with her four sons and two daughters, ages 15 to 24.

Lost at sea were Capt. William O'Toole; his wife, Mary Manson O'Toole; their daughter, Mary Kathleen, who turned 5 months old that fateful day; ship's mate Damas Turgeon; and three other crew members, 18-year-old William Donaldson of Theresa, Dennis McCarthy of Oswego, and a fellow named Farquhaurson from Grindstone Island.

Two other sailors, Michael Purcell, 28, Clayton, and Richard Seymour were also reported to have met their fates. But word came a day or two later that they were indeed safe, having taken their leave from the Hartford at a port earlier in the voyage, possibly Buffalo.

Capt. O'Toole, the 45-year-old son of Civil War soldier and Irish immigrant Peter O'Toole, was a native of Constableville in Lewis County. With 28 years of sailing under his belt, he was described by associates as an able navigator who was as familiar with the topography of the lakes as a farmer would be with country roads. Billy, as he was known, had a manner and disposition strikingly uncharacteristic of seamen, it was said. Gentleness, warmth and amiability were his true colors.

A fellow ship captain said Billy O'Toole "was one of the best captains on the chain of lakes. He was a thorough seaman and understood perfectly the handling of the vessel which he commanded."

As for the Hartford, it "was a vessel that could have outridden any gale that would visit that section of the country."

Something must have given way, the captain suggested.

Mary, Capt. O'Toole's wife of about 13 years, operated a tailor shop in Clayton. She had learned the trade from her father, Alexander Manson, a Watertown resident. At 35, she was the mother of Edward, 10, Anna, 8, Sarah, 7, Margaret, 5, John, who was nearing his third birthday, and the baby.

Family lore has it that Mary wanted to go on this trip to serve as the crew's cook, according to the couple's 94-year-old grandson, Edward H. Roche, Wooster, Ohio. She would have to take the baby, of course, so she asked her oldest daughter, 8-year-old Anna, to come along to baby-sit, Mr. Roche said.

Anna initially complied, but not for long. Her constant crying persuaded the O'Tooles to dock at Cape Vincent and send her home, he said.

They set out on Sept. 1 in a three-mast craft built in 1873 in Gibralter, Mich. Clayton had become the Hartford's home port in 1887, when for $8,000 the ship was purchased by villagers G.H. McKinley, W.H. Consaul and Charles E. Rees. Capt. O'Toole had joined in the ownership a year later, and Mr. McKinley eventually became the principal owner.

Oswego's port was the first stop, to take on a load of coal destined for Toledo, Ohio. After off-loading there, the Hartfordproceeded north to Detroit. To pay for the return leg, arrangements had been made to take on white wheat at Detroit harbor for a purchaser in Watertown, Farwell & Rhines flour and pearl barley mills at 47 Fairbanks St. Delivery of 22,000 bushels would be made at Cape Vincent, where Farwell & Rhines stocked a grain elevator. This was to be the company's first of five shipments for autumn.

White wheat was a scarce commodity, so the Hartford remained docked at Detroit for the greater part of a week until the order, valued at $15,000, could be filled.

It sailed out of Detroit harbor at about 4 p.m. Oct. 5. Four days later, it was resting at Port Dalhousie at the head of Lake Ontario, where Capt. O'Toole sent a telegram to Mr. McKinley in Clayton.

"Here all right. Waiting for fair wind."

The journey resumed either that night, Tuesday, Oct. 9, or early the next morning. At about 9 a.m. Thursday, the Hartford passed Oswego port "in good order," a newspaper account later said. Capt. O'Toole was probably steering for the Stony Island passage when he encountered the gale that was about to drive his ship and its occupants into Mexico Bay, reporters and their sources theorized.

The storm that reached Lake Ontario that Thursday morning was the tail of a front that had moved up the East Coast a day earlier, leaving behind a swath of damage, newspapers reported. As the winds intensified, "the sea assumed such immense proportions that it seemed it would be an impossibility for a vessel to live," the Watertown Times said.

At about 11 a.m., a man on lookout duty at the Big Sandy Life Saving Crew station near Nine Mile Point saw a craft struggling an estimated 6 to 8 miles out in the lake, to the southwest. It was hull-down all the time, meaning the upper part of the ship was visible but the hull wasn't. As the number of observers grew, hope built that the vessel, being tossed about like a toy, would work to the north and make it out of the bay. Instead, its sails were pulled down at about 11:25 a.m. and the anchor dropped.

In the two hours and some that followed, the struggle for survival was watched by the hopeful Big Sandy crew, who would later be quizzed as to why they didn't do more to help.

Eventually, the station's captain, William Fish, could see that the schooner was dragging its anchors. If it came shallow enough to slam into the sandy beach, it would be doomed.

Signals of distress could now be seen. Also visible to the witnesses was the battle for life aboard Hartford. As tremendous waves struck against the craft and broke over it, men could be seen hurrying from one point to another hauling and pulling on ropes. A woman was seen on the deck following one man from point to point. The captain's wife appeared determined that if death was their fate on this day, she would die at his side.

But then, a lifeboat was lowered, with the woman, a baby and crewmen aboard.

Suddenly, in the windswept spray of the gale, onlookers lost sight of the vessel. Capt. Fish went to higher ground at Sturgeon Point, and from there could see only a spar standing. The ship, he feared, had gone down.

The seven-man rescue team manned its lifeboat, but the wild waves prevented any movement onto the lake, sweeping them backwards. Instead, the crew was forced to rescue their leader. Capt. Fish had been washed overboard.

"Only by a supreme effort on his part and assiduous labor by his crew" was Capt. Fish saved, the Watertown Daily Standard reported.

All rescue efforts ceased. Everyone aboard the schooner had drowned.

Those who had watched the horrifying spectacle reported seeing three men climb into the rigging. It is possible, critics told reporters, that if the Mexico Bay rescue crew had not waited so long to respond, some lives might have been saved.

In a telegram sent by Capt. Fish, the general superintendent of lifesaving stations in Washington, D.C., was advised, "An unknown schooner came to anchor about six miles south of the station and one and one-half outside; sank; all hands lost; a high gale of wind and high seas prevailed. Went with a life boat."

Some people theorized that the assault of waves against the Hartford's sides and deck had slashed its seams, making it easy prey for the invading rush of water. Additionally, with its bow pointed toward shore, it was possible that it had slammed into a rock, sustaining a hole in the bottom and on the side.

Mr. McKinley thought perhaps the load of wheat had shifted during the rough ride, making the vessel unmanageable. Capt. O'Toole had decided to drop anchor in hope that they could ride out the gale and save his crew, Mr. McKinley opined.

Late that night, people congregated within 2 miles of where the vessel had sunk, and waited around for about a half hour. And then in the darkness, they noticed something directly in front of their feet on the sandy beach. It was the body of the infant O'Toole girl, her tiny body dressed in a cotton garment.

On Friday morning, at least a thousand people came to the shoreline from Adams, Ellisburg, Sandy Creek and other locations, all hoping for a view of the wreck. Only those who had mariners glasses might have caught a glimpse of something, the site being too far out for the unaided eye.

A boat that arrived at the disaster scene about 10:30 a.m. Friday, in still choppy waters, came upon the top of one of the sunken vessel's masts. As the day wore on, more evidence surfaced — booms, a gaff, topmast and pieces of rigging. The rudder was found on shore. An Associated Press report about the sinking said that when the Hartford pulled away from Oswego's dock Thursday morning, harbor people believed the boat's rudder was broken.

Cabin furniture, including chairs and bedding, hatches, a stern post, yawl and bow sprit also found their way to the shoreline and were carted away by "beach pirates," the Times reported.

The grain, which was insured by Farwell & Rhines, was swallowed by Lake Ontario. The schooner was not insured.

On Friday afternoon, a Watertown Daily Standard reporter witnessed a sobering encounter on Court Street: "An old man of 60 winters, with bowed head, and form trembling with emotion, was walking slowly ... when he was accosted in a cheerful voice by a young friend who grasped the old man's hand and shook it warmly."

"'How are you, Mr. Manson?' asked his youthful friend, heartily.

"'Bad news, bad news for me today,' he replied. 'They're all gone now,' sobbed the old gentleman, as the tears rolled down his cheeks. 'The Hartford has gone down with all on board. Daughter, son-in-law, and my poor little grandchild, all dead.'

"He stopped speaking, and turning, walked away to hide his grief.

"It was Alexander Manson. ... The poor old gentleman is almost overcome with grief, and he is now on his way to the scene of the terrible disaster."

A second body, apparently the only other to be recovered, was discovered Saturday afternoon floating about 2 miles south of the wreck and 3 miles from land. It was the body of Mary Manson O'Toole.

The Times found it "gratifying" that Capt. O'Toole had life insurance to provide for his family's needs. The newspaper was unaware, says the grandson in Ohio, that he also left significant debt.

Sarah O'Toole, 68-year-old grandmother of the O'Toole siblings, took custody of the five. Villagers who helped her meet the children's needs included a shoemaker who made sure they had something to wear on their feet.

The youngest of the group, John A. O'Toole, was about 17 when their grandmother died in 1908.

He was the last survivor of the siblings, passing in 1978 at the age of 86. Once a store employee in Chicago and later a tugboat worker at Oswego, he left no children.

Edward Roche is one of three sons of Sarah O'Toole Roche, who was 80 when she died in July 1968.

Anna O'Toole Johnson died at 78 in August 1964, and Margaret O'Toole Robinson was a 56-year-old Oswego resident when she died in December 1945, leaving one son. Edward O'Toole is said to have died in Chicago.

The mate aboard the Hartford, Damas Turgeon, 48, had for several years made his living on the St. Lawrence River, accompanying tours and excursions on boats operated by the Thousand Islands Steamboat Company. He left his wife, Mary, and sons Joseph, 24, Damas, 19, James, 18, William, 15, and daughters Delia, 22, and Elizabeth, 20. Mary Turgeon married Thomas H. Collins, a Civil War veteran in Clayton, on Oct. 12, 1902. They died two days apart in 1932. She was 81.

Divers found the remains of the Hartford,its wood protected by the cover of sand, in an upright position in 1971. The water depth was said to be 40 feet.

The following year, Thomas H. Turgeon, then director of Clayton's Thousand Islands Shipyard Museum (now the Antique Boat Museum) and the grandson of the ship's mate and son of Damas Turgeon II, initiated an effort to have the relic recovered and restored. The plan was quashed by the Army Corps of Engineers, according to Mr. Roche.

Clayton historian Norman H. Wagner brought this story and his research to us. Also providing assistance were Mr. Roche; Martha Heffernan, a great-granddaughter of Capt. and Mrs. O'Toole; Lisa Carr, Times librarian, and the Thousand Islands Museum Research Library.