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It’s an incredible true story, Chicago.

An experimental capsule designed by an eccentric explorer to cross a large body of water disappears while on an epic journey, scrambling volunteers and authorities to search for it while family and friends anxiously wait for updates knowing oxygen supplies are limited.

The saga mirrors that of the submersible Titan, which was attempting to visit the wreck of the Titanic on Sunday, but happened 119 years ago in Chicago.

Known as Foolkiller No. 3, the 30-foot long and 20-foot wide canvas-covered vessel looked more like a floating blimp than a submersible. It was not designed to sink, but to glide — across land or water — when propelled by the wind. Its cavity was dotted with one glass porthole on each end and hollow except for an axle to help the watermelon-shaped machine turn while its occupant was seated atop it.

Peter Nissen, its inventor, packed up some food, pumped up his vessel by hand than set out to cross Lake Michigan — powered by the wind like a tumbleweed — on Nov. 29, 1904.

Here’s the tale of his harrowing voyage as depicted in stories and photos uncovered in the Tribune’s archives.

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— Kori Rumore, visual reporter

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Chicago inventor survives Niagara Falls rapids — twice

Peter Nissen's boat that he used to successfully navigate the Niagara River rapids in July 1900.
Peter Nissen’s boat that he used to successfully navigate the Niagara River rapids in July 1900.

Nissen garnered front-page headlines for his successful navigation of Niagara River rapids along the U.S.-Canada border — in a wooden boats he built and designed.

“Chicago’s ‘I will’ is greater than Niagara Fall’s ‘You shan’t,'” the Tribune boasted on July 10, 1900 about Nissen’s journey.

Next challenge: Lake Michigan

An artist's sketch shows the details of the Foolkiller, based upon a scientific description of the strange rolling balloon built by Peter Nissen.
An artist’s sketch shows the details of the Foolkiller, based upon a scientific description of the strange rolling balloon built by Peter Nissen.

Nissen constructed a new, watermelon-shaped vessel that he planned to travel from Chicago to Michigan.

A failed demonstration

Peter Nissen enters the Foolkiller in 1904, with a crowd watching him at Chicago Avenue and the Lakefront.
Peter Nissen enters the Foolkiller in 1904, with a crowd watching him at Chicago Avenue and the Lakefront.

The bloated ball failed to roll forward as its inventor had promised and drifted back to shore. Nissen blamed the conditions — not his ingenuity — for the scrubbed effort.

Nissen vanishes during the 65-mile journey, which reaches a sad conclusion

The Foolkiller No. 3 is ready to roll across Lake Michigan with Peter Nissen inside on Nov. 29, 1904, at Chicago Avenue and the Lakefront. Nissen, the Great Lakes daredevil, tried to cross Lake Michigan in a “rolling bag” called the Foolkiller No. 3 in 1904 and lost his life in the attempt.

Snow flurries pelted the canvas, the temperature dropped several degrees below freezing and the balloon bounced fiercely like a rubber ball over Lake Michigan on Nov. 29, 1904.

At 11 a.m. on Dec. 1, 1904, a farmer’s wife near Stevensville, Mich. looked out her window and discovered the form of a man on the beach below — with what looked like a gigantic deflated football nearby.

Nissen’s name — and another vessel — is raised 11 years later

A crane raises a submarine from the bottom of the Chicago River at the Wells Street Bridge, circa December 1915. The submarine is being lowered on to a barge, and it appears that two men on the barge are running to get out of the way.
A crane raises a submarine from the bottom of the Chicago River at the Wells Street Bridge, circa December 1915. The submarine is being lowered on to a barge, and it appears that two men on the barge are running to get out of the way.

William “Frenchy” Deneau, an experienced diver, discovers what he believed to be was a submarine buried in three feet of muck in the Chicago River. He worked with the federal government to secure ownership of the vessel and raise it, then charged a 10-cent admission for curiosity seekers to view it.

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