By Joe Marzo
The Day the Skyway Fell: A Florida Tragedy
It was the kind of storm that rolled in fast—thick with fog, thunder grumbling in the distance, and a darkness that didn’t belong to morning. On the Gulf Coast of Florida, May 9, 1980, had begun like any other early summer day: warm, muggy, and quiet. But by 7:30 a.m., a fierce squall line barreled across Tampa Bay with violent winds and blinding rain, setting the stage for the worst disaster in the region’s modern history.
The Sunshine Skyway Bridge, with its soaring yellow towers and concrete span stretching across the mouth of the bay, was a marvel of mid-20th-century engineering. Completed in 1954 and expanded with a second span in 1971, it carried U.S. Highway 19 over the water—linking St. Petersburg in the north to Bradenton in the south. It was a vital artery for commuters, truckers, tourists, and travelers passing through Florida’s booming Gulf Coast.
At that very moment, cutting through the mist, the MV Summit Venture, a 608-foot-long bulk freighter, was approaching the bridge from the west. The ship was inbound to the Port of Tampa, carrying a massive load of phosphate fertilizer—potash, mined from the earth deep in Central Florida. At the helm was Captain John Lerro, a seasoned harbor pilot responsible for navigating ships through the complex and shallow waters of the bay.
But visibility had dropped to near zero.
Captain Lerro had been doing everything by the book, using radar and charts to stay within the narrow dredged shipping channel that snakes beneath the Skyway. But this was no ordinary storm. Winds gusted past 60 miles per hour, and the torrential rain created a wall of gray so dense the bridge—only minutes away—disappeared entirely from sight.
At 7:33 a.m., the Summit Venture, driven off course by a sudden squall and unable to correct in time, veered slightly to port. The crew on the bridge deck saw it too late. In seconds, the massive freighter slammed into one of the Skyway’s southbound bridge support columns—Pier 2S—just below the highest point of the span.
What happened next is almost impossible to imagine.
A 1,200-foot section of the southbound span of the Sunshine Skyway collapsed into the bay, dragging cars, trucks, and a Greyhound bus with it. The steel and concrete structure crumpled like a paper straw. From above, the bridge seemed to have simply vanished—leaving a jagged cliff where roadway had once stretched high above the water.
The motorists never had a chance.
Just seconds after the collapse, unaware of the disaster that had just occurred ahead of them, several cars continued driving toward what they assumed was a solid road. But instead of pavement, they found empty space. One by one, vehicles drove off the shattered edge—plunging 150 feet into the water below.
The most devastating of them was the Greyhound bus, which had departed Miami hours earlier and was now headed to St. Petersburg. With 26 passengers and the driver aboard, it launched off the broken bridge like a missile. Witnesses later said it flipped in the air and hit the water nose-first, bursting apart on impact.
In all, 35 people died that morning.
Only one man survived the fall—Wesley MacIntire, a 56-year-old Gulfport resident driving his Ford Courier pickup across the bridge. As fate would have it, when his truck dropped, it struck the bow of the Summit Venture, which was still lodged against the bridge’s remaining support column. The impact likely slowed his fall. He broke through his windshield, swam to the ship, and was hauled aboard by the stunned crew—shaken, injured, but alive.
Within minutes, emergency responders, Coast Guard crews, and helicopters scrambled to the scene. But it was clear: this was a recovery mission, not a rescue. The vehicles had vanished beneath the surface, swept into the deep waters of the shipping channel, which reached depths of 80 feet. A few twisted car parts and scattered wreckage floated to the surface.
Tampa Bay, normally alive with fishermen and sailboats, was eerily still—except for the giant freighter resting against the bridge it had just destroyed.
The Aftermath
News of the disaster spread across Florida and the country. Traffic reporters initially announced “a bridge collapse,” but details were vague. By midday, as aerial footage of the devastation appeared on national TV, the scope of the tragedy became clear.
The southbound span of the Skyway was destroyed and would never reopen. The northbound span—completed in 1971—was temporarily converted to carry two-way traffic, a stopgap measure while plans were made for a replacement.
An investigation by the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) later confirmed that Captain Lerro had done all he could. The storm was classified as a microburst—a sudden downdraft of air strong enough to move ships off course with little to no warning. Lerro was eventually cleared of negligence, though the trauma of the day followed him for the rest of his life. He died in 2002, having spent much of his later years battling multiple sclerosis and public perception.
In the years that followed, Tampa Bay would rebuild.
A Bridge Reborn
By 1987, a new Sunshine Skyway Bridge had risen in the same location. But this time, the state of Florida spared no expense. The new design was a cable-stayed bridge—an elegant, hurricane-resistant structure made of high-strength concrete and steel, supported by thick central pylons and protected by massive concrete bumpers designed to withstand direct ship impacts.
Its sleek design—recognized globally for its beauty and strength—became a symbol of engineering redemption. To this day, the Sunshine Skyway is considered one of the most beautiful bridges in the world.
But along the bridge’s approach stands a solemn reminder: a plaque bearing the names of the 35 victims who died that morning in May 1980.
They were everyday people—commuters, tourists, mothers, students, veterans—whose lives were cut short in a moment no one saw coming. The event didn’t just change how Florida builds bridges. It changed how the people of the Gulf Coast view the line between safety and chaos, between routine and catastrophe.
Sources:
National Transportation Safety Board, Collision of Freighter Summit Venture with Sunshine Skyway Bridge, 1981
Tampa Bay Times Archive, “May 9, 1980: Skyway Bridge Collapse”
Florida Department of Transportation, Sunshine Skyway Replacement Project Records
Oral History Interview with Wesley MacIntire, Bay News 9, 2000
U.S. Coast Guard Disaster Report, 1980