The Great Chicago Fire of 1871 usually comes to mind as the city’s most epic disaster. It’s even sewn into our civic memory as one of four red stars positioned between two blue stripes on the municipal flag—stripes that represent the Chicago River. But it was an even greater tragedy that occurred on the river on July 24, 1915, that still bears the dark distinction as the city’s deadliest event. And a find within the annals of Mercy Home reveal how this tragedy hit close to home.

Their spirits undampened by a light rain that morning, employees of Western Electric’s factory in Cicero and their families gathered on the wharf to board five excursion boats. The vessels had been chartered to ferry passengers across Lake Michigan to a site in Indiana for a company picnic.

The first boat scheduled to depart was the SS Eastland, known as the “Speed Queen of the Great Lakes.” Many passengers hurried below deck to escape the drizzle. As the Eastland pushed just beyond its capacity of 2,500, it suddenly rolled over onto its side. Those on the upper deck were tossed into the murky water. The fortunate among the passengers were able to walk to safety across the overturned hull. But hundreds more would be trapped in the boat’s lower decks, as it came to rest on the river’s muddy floor just 20 feet below the surface. In the end, 844 men, women and children perished, including entire families. The death toll was nearly three times that of the Chicago Fire, and was the 16th greatest disaster in U.S. history.

It wasn’t the first time the Eastland had capsized. The ship was known to be wobbly for years. Originally designed to hold 500 passengers, modifications made over time to increase its capacity rendered it especially unstable during the boarding process. In addition, a law signed in March of that year by President Wilson in response to the sinking of the Titanic three years earlier required that the boat carry more than double the amount of life boats than it was designed to hold. Other safety equipment like rafts and lifejackets—nearly all stored on the upper deck—made the boat even more top-heavy. Yet the Eastland disaster unfolded so quickly that none of the equipment was even deployed. The saved and the damned where sorted almost instantly.

The September issue of Mercy Home’s Waifs Messenger magazine that year opened with a reflection and remembrance for the victims and described how the tragedy had struck close to home. “The uncertainty of life was brought to our attention as no writer or preacher could present it, when the pleasure boat Eastland capsized in the Chicago River while still tied to its dock,” the article read.

The Home’s president at the time, Rev. Centennial J. Quille witnessed firsthand the horrific aftermath after he and six other priests from around the city rushed to the scene, by then strictly a recovery operation. They observed the accident’s horrific aftermath as they stood on the vessel’s capsized hull. “As the poor victims were brought out of the hold, they were first laid before the priests who gave conditional absolution and administered extreme unction with the short form. Sights that have left an indelible mark in one’s memory were many and the anguish and suffering of those searching for loved ones pitiful to behold.”

The writer counseled that we should never take any day as guaranteed: “Make use of the means God has given you that you may be strong and safe, no matter what manner of death may be your lot.”

The article concluded by asking for prayers for all the victims of the disaster, but especially, “for a lad of 14 who is with us; he lost father, mother and 18-year-old sister on the Eastland. Two little brothers besides himself make up the family that remains. Our lad must be father and mother to the two youngsters. We intended to prepare him for his responsibilities.”

Today, 105 years later, Chicagoland and Mercy Home remember all the victims of the Eastland Disaster.