LANSING, Mich. – On November 10, 1975, while the notorious “gales of November” swept across the region, Associated Press journalist Harry Atkins found himself far from Lake Superior. Yet, his coverage the next day of the tragic Edmund Fitzgerald sinking played a significant role in etching its story into history.

Atkins, now 86, was reporting from Detroit when he was dispatched to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to cover the ill-fated voyage of the Fitzgerald. The freighter was carrying iron ore from Wisconsin to Zug Island in Detroit when it was caught in a devastating storm. All 29 crew members perished, and the reasons behind the disaster remain unresolved.

The sinking of the Fitzgerald marked the last significant shipwreck on the Great Lakes, largely due to advances in technology in the following years. The incident gained iconic status, further immortalized by Gordon Lightfoot’s haunting song, which ensured its place in public consciousness.

Lightfoot’s tribute to the Fitzgerald was inspired by Atkins’ coverage and a subsequent article in Newsweek on November 24, 1975. His poignant ballad was released in August 1976, less than a year after the ship’s demise.

This Monday, relatives and maritime enthusiasts will gather to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the tragedy. In anticipation of this milestone, Atkins shared his recollections of that day in a recent interview with the Associated Press, reflecting on his experiences with his former organization.

How did you first learn about the shipwreck?

Atkins, who now resides in Savannah, Georgia, said he was working on the AP Detroit broadcast desk when the bureau heard something was wrong. A Whitefish Bay resident that Atkins described as an “old hermit” was listening to radio communications from ships on the water and called radio stations to relay what he heard.

“He could figure out that the Fitzgerald was not doing well,” Atkins said.

The last message ever heard from the Fitzgerald was sent to the Arthur Anderson, a vessel nearby. “We are holding our own,” the Fitzgerald’s captain said.

Atkins said he worked up a quick story about how the ship was in trouble and then drove overnight to Sault Ste. Marie, about 347 miles (559 kilometers) north of Detroit. He set up shop at the Sault Ste. Marie Evening News, a newspaper that had relayed the message from the radio eavesdropper to Detroit.

“I got the Yellow Pages,” Atkins said, “and started looking for an airplane.”

What did you see over Whitefish Bay?

Atkins said he found a retired Navy pilot with a four-seat aircraft “with the wings above the cockpit instead of below,” to fly him and a photographer out over nearby Whitefish Bay. When they arrived at the Canadian side of the lake, Atkins said he could see two two freighters, two Coast Guard boats and one other vessel pointed at each other “like the Chrysler star.”

“So we had to figure the Fitzgerald’s down there in the middle of where all those boats were pointed,” Atkins recounted.

From the skies, Atkins said, he saw a lifeboat and vest. But no bodies of the crew were ever recovered.

To this day the Fitzgerald remains beneath 535 feet (165 meters) of water, about 17 miles (27 kilometers) north-northwest of Whitefish Point, Michigan. The wreck is protected as a gravesite under Canadian law.

Once on land, Atkins called his colleagues in Detroit to relay his draft that spread the news. He wrote in his “lede,” the first paragraph of his story: “Rescuers searched Lake Superior’s chilly waters Tuesday for the 29-member crew of the sunken ore-carrier Edmund Fitzgerald but found only an oil slick, empty lifeboats and life jackets.”

When did you know the ship had become a legend?

Atkins went on to be a longtime sports journalist for the AP in Michigan. He heard Lightfoot’s song from time to time.

“It’s a haunting ballad,” Atkins said, his voice thick with emotion. “I get choked up every time.”

But he didn’t realize just how infamous the disaster was until 25 years later, when he first saw news coverage of the anniversary.

“To think that 29 guys were alive yesterday and dead today,” Atkins said. “I cared a lot about what I was writing.”