The Wreck of the Western Reserve.

 

True story: The Steinbrenner family came into its first fortune when a Great Lakes steamer sunk in 1892.

The ship in question was a big new, steel freighter, christened the Western Reserve. Valued at $200,000, it was the biggest insurance loss of any Great Lakes freighter in the 19th century. And it was built and operated by a little corporation called the American Ship Building Company, out of Cleveland. 

The ship was the pride of the American side... 

On the night of August 30th, the Western Reserve was making for Twin Harbors, Minnesota. It was running empty, apparently more of a vacation excursion for the captain and the owner of American Ship Building, one Peter G. Minch, who was on board along with his wife, two of his children, and his niece and sister-in-law. 

Around 9 PM, without warning, the Western Reserve (left), broke in half without warning. Two lifeboats were launched, but both capsized—the second one just a mile from shore. The only survivor was the 24-year-old wheelman, Harry W. Stewart, who managed to swim to safety and tell the tale.

They might have split up or they might have capsized

They might have broke deep or took water...

What went wrong? It may well have been a design flaw. Less than 60 days later, the Western Reserve's sister ship, the W.H. Gilcher, sailed into a "moderate gale"—and was never seen again. Neither ship was ever located.

Superior it's said never gives up its dead when the gales of November come early...

After the Western Reserve went down, though, control of the American Ship Building Company passed to one Henry Steinbrenner—George's great-grandfather—who had married a Minch daughter. (I will refrain here from any tasteless speculations about how well Henry might have known Harry W. Stewart, or who had been in charge of ship design for the company.)

(Bizarrely, a freighter named for old Henry went down in 1953, though about half the crew survived, thanks to a dramatic rescue.)

Point is, this started a Steinbrenner tradition of—as Ann Richards once said about a certain other individual—being born on third base and thinking that you hit a triple.

Steinbrenner after Steinbrenner went on basically screwing the pooch, generation after generation—only to be handed some greater opportunity on a silver platter.

George himself initially tried to break into sports ownership with the Cleveland Pipers in the old American Basketball League (ABL). Thanks to a great coach and GM, he won the league's only title—and then brought it crashing down, so alienating everybody and anybody that the ABL failed and no owners got to merge into the NBA.

About 10 years later, George decided he would become a baseball owner. In 1972, he was all set to buy the Indians for $9 million, cash, from Vernon Stouffer, the frozen foods king. But at the last minute, Stouffer backed out, still angry about how he felt George had screwed over his son, Jim Stouffer, when he had been a co-owner of the Pipers.

Rumor had it that George had been screwing Jim's wife, as well, but never mind. Soon after, George was able to acquire control of the New York Yankees, having to put up a mere $168,000 of his own money. It was the steal of the century—though George insisted it didn't matter. 

Asked a few years later if he could have made such a big success out of the Indians, Steinbrenner replied:

"No doubt about it. The same strong group of owners that Vern Stouffer turned down followed me to the Yankees. We had the money and Cleveland then had the biggest ballpark in the country. We would have filled it."

George even insisted that he could have lured Reggie Jackson to the Mistake by the Lake:

"He would have come to Cleveland in a minute. I would have had him thinking Lake Erie was the Riviera. He wouldn't have known the difference."

And so it would go for George and his heirs, year after year, decade after decade.

Despite numerous bribes to politicians, and numerous public subsidies, George would managed to drive American Ship Building, the thriving company he inherited, into bankruptcy.

Didn't matter.

Suspended for one such bribe, he sat on the sidelines while a savvy baseball man, Gabe Paul, built him a winner.

Suspended "for life" a few years later, for engaging in a criminal collaboration against one of his own ballplayers, he got to sit on the sidelines...while a trio of savvy baseball men, Gene Michael, Buck Showalter, and Bob Watson, built the greatest team ever seen for him.

About to sell out to the Dolans, he changed his mind at the last minute, and reaped the rewards of a new era in television sports that he neither understood—see remark concerning Cleveland, above—or cared much about.

And so it goes. 

Now, at last, it appears that a Steinbrenner heir will actually have to DO something—make some decisions, learn the business he is in, maybe fire an old pal.

Can he do it? Will he?

I would bet on another ship going down first.

RIP, Gordon Lightfoot.