This book could not have been written without the help of countless people—from those who recorded the history of shipping over the centuries, to friends, mariners, and families directly affected by the loss of El Faro. Many of these people were named in the book, but some were not.
Paul Haley, a former chief mate of El Morro, told me hundreds of stories about the seaman’s life. A native Mainer, Haley first signed up with the US Merchant Marine in the 1970s and spent the final sixteen years of his career at TOTE. His tales gave me insight into the plight of the American mariner while slowly revealing an industry in crisis. During Hurricane Joaquin, Haley was in constant contact with Second Mate Charlie Baird tracking El Faro. Since she was lost, he, like so many mariners around the world, carries a heaviness in his heart.
Every morning, the first email I read was the GCaptain newsletter, created by the innovative Captain John Konrad. An insightful compendium of global maritime news, GCaptain is necessary reading for people reporting on the industry. The online forum accompanying his news site provides a place for mariners to speak frankly about the problems of working at sea. It is a unifying force in a fractured field.
I cannot thank the US Coast Guard’s team of media specialists enough for their assistance. Spokeswoman Alana Miller at DC headquarters was committed to transparency; she strived to make information about the Marine Board investigation accessible and made sure all of the Jacksonville hearings were available via LiveStream so that family and friends could follow along. Her colleagues in Florida—Lieutenant Rachel Post and Lieutenant Commander Ryan Kelley—as well as Chief Warrant Officer Paul Roszkowski in Los Angeles at the Motion Picture and Television Liaison Office were equally generous with their time, support, and dedication to accurate reporting.
Peter Knudson, the public affairs officer at the National Transportation Safety Board, not only spent an entire day listening to me interview half a dozen NTSB investigators, he also saved me from the labyrinth of the federal government morass known as L’Enfant Plaza.
Maritime lawyer Chris Hug helped me navigate the complexities of admiralty law, and when he didn’t have an answer for me, he always found someone who did, connecting me with Boston’s small, tight-knit maritime attorney community, a remnant of a once-robust industry.
Deborah Moulton put her trust in me and encouraged Charlie Baird to open up about his experiences aboard El Faro. They both offered invaluable insights into the shipping world, and that made all the difference.
Mary Bryson welcomed me into her Jacksonville home while I was attending the hearings and accompanying her husband, Eric, on piloting excursions. I will never forget her kindness and her discriminating taste in cats.
It was a pleasure working with retired Navy and Army officer Michael Carr, a knowledgeable and sensitive truth-seeker who relentlessly analyzed the Marine Board hearings and shared his thoughtful conclusions with a wide range of journalists, mariners, and members of the military.
Author Robert Frump, who wrote the definitive story of the Marine Electric tragedy, generously offered his encouragement and insights. Bob is a true investigative journalist and his book, Until the Sea Shall Free Them, is required reading for anyone interested in the ongoing struggle between capitalism, regulation, and those who make their living on American ships.
To better understand life at sea, I took a Grimaldi car carrier/container ship from Italy to Baltimore in July 2017 with Captain Francesco Rago of the Italian merchant marine. A careful mariner and natural leader, Francesco revealed to this writer the subtle art of mastering a ship.
Mel Allen, editor of Yankee magazine, was an early believer in my ability to tell this story. I first pitched him the El Faro tragedy from the perspective of the Maine-based families of the lost mariners and Mel agreed to take a chance on me. Without his initial support, this book would not exist.
Boston magazine editor Chris Vogel gave me wide berth to investigate the El Faro story while I was working at the magazine. In the few years we worked together, I learned a tremendous amount about story structure from Chris.
I never really understood the adage “a friend in need” until I approached Hillary Rayport and Anupreeta Das, two incredibly smart women who willingly subjected themselves to a long slog through an unedited, deeply flawed rough draft of this book.
Many thanks to my agent, David Patterson, of Stuart Krichevsky Literary Agency, who took on this first-time author and found me the indomitable Denise Oswald, my fiercely dedicated editor at Ecco/HarperCollins. She was a tireless advocate of this project from the moment we met.
Finally, Sean Slade left me alone when I needed solitude and engaged when I needed his incomparable wisdom.