54 years ago: Michigan man accepts $5 bet to cross Lake Michigan in a bathtub

Joseph Goral, Digital News Intern

Back in the summer of 1969, when astronauts walked on the moon, while the Beatles recorded their last album, and when 400,000 people watched artists like Santana, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin perform at Woodstock, a Michigan man made history in his own way.

He didn’t walk on the moon, but still did what no man had done before: He traveled across Lake Michigan in a bathtub.

Yes, for real.

The tub’s captain was Victor Jackson, and the entire saga was explained in his book “Crossing Lake Michigan in a Bathtub: A True Story.” Here’s how Jackson said it played out.

One day while Jackson was at work in 1969, Lake Michigan came up in conversation. His boss, Fred Behnke -- who Jackson called “a fellow loudmouth” -- confidently told coworkers it takes a large boat to cross any of the Great Lakes, including Lake Michigan.

It’s a reasonable statement. Over 6,000 shipwrecks rest at the bottom of the Great Lakes with over 1,200 in Lake Michigan alone.

Still, Jackson called Behnke’s claim “baloney.”

“You could cross Lake Michigan in any small boat,” Jackson told his boss. “Navigating on the Great Lakes is so simple that a raft of beer cans or even a bathtub, just like in the cartoons, could make it across Lake Michigan.”

Behnke bet Jackson $5 that he could sail neither a beer-can raft nor a bathtub across Lake Michigan.

The two shook on it.

There was a problem: The 200-pound cast-iron bathtub Jackson obtained for the trip didn’t actually float.

Over the next several months, volunteers helped Jackson modify the tub to make it lake-worthy using secondhand materials. A steel frame surrounding the tub was built to hold four empty 30-gallon barrels, which barely kept the tub afloat. A splash shield was installed at the front and sides of the tub, radios would provide communication, and an outboard motor was attached to the back.

Jackson needed to face the motor to steer the tub, meaning he would face backward during the trip while navigating. To compensate, he attached a mirror near the motor to see ahead.

Once the vessel was built, Jackson decided to sail west from Pere Marquette Lake in Michigan, which enters into Lake Michigan, to Manitowoc, Wisconsin -- about a 60-mile distance.

Jackson’s father shockingly didn’t want him to make the trip, and suggested he just float about in the lake for some time to satisfy the bet.

But to Jackson, it was Wisconsin or bust. He decided to actually cross the entire lake so no one could accuse him of using a loophole to win the bet.

Jackson was ready to sail that July.

Jackson awoke to a thick, unexpected fog. The 5-foot vessel was difficult for ferries and ships to see in clear weather, let alone a fog that Jackson said offered 30 feet of visibility. Still, Jackson began a highly-publicized 60-mile voyage with a crowd of onlookers and reporters to see him off.

Trouble began 20 feet from the dock when Jackson struggled to steer the tub. Several miles out, six-foot waves threatened to capsize the tub and subject Jackson to hypothermia. Their height prevented Jackson from turning back.

“It was the bleakest and most harrowing moment of my life,” Jackson wrote.

The Coast Guard rescued Jackson and towed the bathtub back to shore. Jackson said the crew took the rescue in good humor and hoped they were joking when they mentioned shooting at him for target practice if they had to rescue him again.

Jackson’s hopes looked dead in the water.

As Jackson returned, his father’s neighbor began eyeing the tub. The neighbor was Gerald Heslipen, a ship captain who sailed Lake Michigan for over 20 years and worked for Pere Marquette and C&O Trainferries for over 25 years, according to a Michigan newspaper from 1986.

Heslipen told Jackson the tub could make it across the lake under the right conditions, and that the lake could be “smooth as a tabletop” in good weather.

By August 24, 1969, after more testing and being teased, Jackson and the bathtub were back at Lake Michigan. This time, the lake was calm and the voyage was uneventful.

That is, until Jackson got about half way across the lake.

The radio Jackson was using to communicate with people on land for navigation began to die, even though a generator on the tub’s motor was supposed to keep the battery charged. Jackson decided to turn the radio off and save it in case of emergency, even though he just used it to confirm he had drifted miles off course.

Jackson was completely alone.

Luckily, while he couldn’t communicate with it, Jackson brought a portable radio to monitor distress signals. The portable radio had a signal meter, which, when tuned to a station in Manitowoc and combined with a compass, showed him which direction to sail.

Finally, after over 14 hours of sailing, Jackson reached his Wisconsin destination.

Jackson gained some fame during his bathtub saga, and wrote about the numerous public appearances he made, including meeting mayors and participating in a game show.

The brave yet self-admitted crazy man proved that even the most unsuspecting vessel can somehow cross Lake Michigan, just like in the cartoons. And yes, Behnke eventually gave Jackson his $5.

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