Source: The Daily Nonpareil (Council Bluffs, Iowa)
Although dragging parties worked until dark Thursday, battling high waves in a terrible blizzard which swept Lake Manawa and placed the searchers in danger every minute, no trace was found of the two hunters who were drowned in a storm shortly after daylight on Thanksgiving morning.
State Deputy Game Warden Henry Hough and a crew of assistants took a state seine 800 feet long and ten feet wide to the lake Friday afternoon and expected to complete one sweep across the lake with it before night.
The dragging was resumed Friday at daylight, when it was found that slush in the wide bay at the southwest end of the lake, where the fatality occurred, would prevent the use of the seine until wind stirred or the warming sun had its effect on the snow-filled water.
Mute testimony to the last humane act of Ernest Kiesel, gardener at the Iowa School for the Deaf, who was rescued alive to die within an hour, was found when there drifted to the southwest shore of the lake the cage in which the hunters had carried tame ducks for decoys.
The lid of the wooden cage showed clearly that it had been torn loose and the ducks liberated. It is presumed that Kiesel, attempting to paddle the half-submerged boat with his hands, his oars having been swept away by the waves, had given the ducks their liberty, as their death would have been certain if they had remained penned tight in the cage. The decoys swam to the west shore near the home of Joe Roux, at the spot where the hunters had embarked.
The attempt to recover the bodies was mostly guesswork, as the exact spot where the accident happened could not be told, the boat containing Kiesel having drifted in the rough water before Joe Roux reached it in answer to the doomed man's cries. It is a mile in length, one-half mile wide and 3 feet deep near the shore to seven or eight feet in the center. The bay is formed between an island on the south end of the lake and the southwest bank, where Joe Roux's farmhouse stands.
Soundings were made by those dragging the lake in the blizzard Thursday afternoon and the exact depths were learned in order to facilitate the work and determine what depth of seine would be required Froday. Weeds cover the bottom of the lake for twenty yards from each shore line. The remainder of the bottom is hard-packed mud or sand where the river swept in from the west shore. THe lake is at a higher level than it has been for months.
Reconstructing the tragedy from the evidence of the opened decoy box, the oars which were swept high on the rocks of the west shore by battering waves, and the condition of August Kiesel when Joe Roux reached his side in the early morning battle to save a life, searchers concluded that the two lost hunters stood up in the boat to shoot at three ducks which passed over them.
Ernest Kiesel shot from his seat at the oars. His brother, Louis Kiesel, and their companion, Herman Wolff, stood up to shoot and as their guns were discharged the boat swept into the trough of the waves and both men were hurled into the ice cold water, it is believed.
The water at the spot where it is believed the boat first tipped was found to be eight feet deep, almost in the exact center of the wide bay. The bototm there is entirely free of underwater growths. The center of the bay was probably the roughest place on the lake at that moment, as the strong winds came from the north and east.
Garbed in hip boots, heavy shell vests, hunting coats whose pockets would fill instantly and hold water, heavy underwear and woolen socks, it is believed that the two men had no chance to save their lives.
Three shots were heard, almost simultaneously by other hunters on the lake from one-half mile to a mile away. The shots were followed by cries for help from only one man. Three ducks were seen winging away after the shooting.
Ernest Kiesel undoubtedly found himself in a submerged boat which retained sufficient buyoancy due to air chambers in the bow and stern, to float him to his shoulders. He stood on the seat, on his tip toes, whereupon one foot became wedged under an iron brace which joins the seat to the gunwhale. Kiesel wore only one rubber boot. An injured foot necessitated the wearing of a rubber overshoe on the other foot. It was the foot in the rubber boot that became fast.
Joe Roux, from whose landing the hunters had embarked and who was an uncle by marriage to the Kiesel boys, was awakened by his wife, who heard cries for help.
Rapidly entering another boat, Roux could dimly make out the form of the half-submerged hunter in the center of the bay, about three city blocks from the shore. Although the waves ran high, Roux, who knows the treacherous nature of the lake at that point when northeast winds are blowing, set out alone to effect the rescue.
He saw as he approached that Kiesel was being hurled over by each wave, his head and shoulders appearing again as the waves passed. The air chambers in the hidden boat were righting the craft as each wave rolled the doomed man into the freezing water.
When he reached Kiesel, Roux grabbed the man and then learned that the hunter was fast to the boat. Yelling for help when he could get his breath, fighting a terrific battle against the waves and wind, Roux clung to the dying man and hauled man and boat downwind.
Unable to steer in any one direction, Roux left himself to the mercy of the waves which frequently baroke over his own boat, and for upwards of thirty minutes fought one of the most terrific battles in the years that he has lived near lake and river.
His cries finally attracted Wesley Johnson, 637 South First street, who, in a boat with his son, Jack, 16, and Frank Terry came downwind from where they had been hunting almost two-thirds of a mile from the scene of the catastrophe.
They assisted Roux until the boat and the doomed man were near enough to the shore to allow wading. The water was chest-deep even here, however, and another struggle was necessary before Roux had liberated Kiesel's foot and could get the man ashore.
It was here that Boy Scout training stood in good stead. Young began rendering first aid by artificial respiration while Kiesel could do no more than moan and ask for his brother.
With his lungs freed of water, while life was steadily ebbing due to the long exposure in the ice cold water, Kiesel was taken to the Roux home and there he was wrapped in hot blankets while further attempts to revive him went forward.
Mrs. Roux, seeing the low condition of Kiesel, obtained the services of a neighbor, William Clark, and drove to the Iowa School for the Deaf, intending to bring Mrs. Kiesel to her husband's side while life remained. The man died before his wife could reach him.
Dr. Harry D. Kelly was called but pronounced life extinct when he reached Kiesel's side. The nearest telephone to the Roux home is almost two miles away, at the home of Charles Schott. This man rushed to the spot with clam hooks as soon as the call was made for the doctor.
With the clam hooks and lines hastily constructed with large fish hooks by P. A. Lainson, sheriff, residents of the Manawa district combed the lake bottom throughout the day. The water was calm by mid-morning. Slowly the wind increased again as afternoon wore on and by 3:30 o'clock the searchers were in danger themselves. A blinding blizzard tore over the lake and waves run as high as they had done when the tragedy occurred.
On the advice of Roux, the searchers in the blizzard were thinned down to include only men who knew the lake and could keep a boat afloat in rough weather. While the snow raged and fog began to creep over the water, visibility between the searchers was cut down until boats ten feet apart could not be detected by their occupants.
The dragging continued, however, three boats remaining on the water, all manned by residents of Lake Manawa. Thw work by this time had been turned over to the authorities of Sarpy county, as the bay in the lake, west of the bathing beach, is in Nebraska territory.
Sarpy county officials continued to direct the work Friday.
Funeral services for Ernest Kiesel will be held Sunday morning at 10 o'clock, it was announced Friday at the Cutler mortuary, where the services will be conducted. Burial will be in the Plumer cemetery.
Motor-driven ice-breakers were employed at Lake Manawa by workers endeavoring to locate the bodies of Herman Wolff and Louis Kiesel, who went to their deaths in the frigid lake waters Thanksgiving morning.
Although hundreds of acres of ice were shattered on the surface of the lake and this area was carefully combed with drag lines and grappling hooks, no trace of the lost men could be found.
Ice and lack of knowledge of the whereabouts of the bodies hampered the work. The undercurrent in the center of the bay was located and ice was broken for close to half a mile along its course.
It is believed by the searchers that the drowned men were swept against wind by the strong undertow after they had been held close to the bottom of the lake by the heavy hunting apparel which they wore.
The search will be resumed Sunday, the Sarpy county officials who have charge of the work said. Unable Saturday to use the 800-foot state seine which he took to the lake Friday and with which one futile cast was made, Henry Hough, state deputy game warden, lent assistance with the ice-breakers and the drag lines.
It is the opinion of Mr. Hough that the almost hopeless search will have to be conducted east from where the ice was broken, in the deepest part of the lake where the undertow is known to have swept boats and other debris that has been submerged in the past.
Funeral services for Ernest Kiesel, the third member of the ill-fated party, who died after being buffeted in the ice-cold water for more than an hour, were scheduled to be held at the Cutler chapel Sunday morning.