Random patter from one easily amused and more easily confused.
I'D LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU
Comments, criticisms, or (one can hope) compliments are more than welcome! Please let me know what you think, tell me I'm crazy (I suspect this) or what you'd like to hear about. Comments are screened before publication, so if you want to share something with me only, just put that in the comment and I'll keep it to myself.
On Thursday, February 4th, the SS United States
Conservancy stunned the preservationist community by announcing that the
much-ballyhooed plans for the ship were not to redevelop it as a static
public attraction in New York as rumored, but in fact that a cruise
line was interested in purchasing it for return to revenue service!
The liner, which holds the transatlantic speed record, was laid up in
1969 and has been idle ever since, her mid-century interiors long since
stripped away and sold at auction. For the past 20 years, she has been
berthed in south Philadelphia, where drivers on I-95 and the Walt
Whitman Bridge glimpse at her fading red-white-and blue smokestacks.
A a press conference held on Pier 88 in New York (long home of the storied Compagnie Générale Transatlantique
(French Line)), Crystal Cruises, a luxury brand owned by Hong
Kong-based Genting Group, announced they had agreed to front the ship’s
$60,000-per-month dockage fees until the end of the year whilst they
determine if renovating her further use is even feasible. A new
propulsion system would have to be provided ( Crystal’s president
asserted she would still be the fastest out there) and there is concern
about contaminants lurking in her Cold-War-era bowels.
The renovated ship would carry about 800 passengers, far fewer than
she was designed to accommodate. Her interiors are a veritable clean
slate: all non-structural materials were gutted in the 1980s in the
Ukraine. Her designer’s preoccupation with fire meant asbestos and
other hazardous substances were used in abundance. A promotional video
by the cruise line indicated her superstructure would be expanded to
accommodate modern passenger expectations like stateroom balconies.
Certain features like the enclosed promenade decks and the cozy Navajo
Lounge would be maintained or recreated, and one would assume that a nod
to her history would be evident throughout.
Screen
shot of artist’s rendering of the SS United States as proposed Crystal
Cruise Lines vessel from Feb. 2016 press conference
My feelings are mixed: While of course a ship is built to go to sea,
this vessel was designed and laid down for a specific route and market
that was lost to the jet airplane many years ago. To make her “work”
as a modern cruise vessel, she will have to be modified almost beyond
recognition, and will still be a compromise at best. There is
precedent, the SS France, of similar vintage, enjoyed 20 additional years of life as the cruise ship Norway, but not without two additional decks and much updating.
Which brings up my second concern: Genting also owns Norwegian Cruise Line which operated the Norway.
After a boiler explosion rendered her inoperable, her owners claimed
she was being brought to Asia for repairs, but in fact were accused of
duping the German government when their real intention was to scrap
her. Under the Basel Convention, she would not be permitted to leave
the EU without a plan in place to remove the asbestos and other hazards
present throughout her interiors. NCL actually purchased the United States once
before with very similar intentions to the ones being proposed now, but
determined it was not feasible. It remains to be explained what is
different this time.
Even if they are successful, I and the others who paid to keep her
alive these recent years are still likely to be short-changed. As a
hotel and museum, she would have been accessible to millions of people
including those who appreciate her history. Instead she will become a
playground for the super-rich, and the rest of us will be left waving
from the shore.
JOHN MAXTONE-GRAHAM LECTURES ABOARD QM2 IN HIS TRADEMARK KILT (MY PHOTO, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED)
I was saddened to learn yesterday of the passing of maritime historian and author John Maxtone-Graham, many of whose books about passenger ships are in my collection. Peter Knego, who operates the popular site Maritime Matters, said in his obituary that "Mr. Maxtone-Graham’s poetic style of writing and his charismatic onstage
manner were an inspiration to generations of fans of ships and the
sea. His breakthrough The Only Way To Cross, when published in 1972,
was one of the first non-Titanic books to capture the essence of the
ocean liner."
John possessed an encyclopedic knowledge of ocean liners and cruise ships, and delivered it--both in writing and at speaking engagements--with grace and humor.
One of my favorite of his tales describes an incident one night aboard the Bergensfjord of the Norske Amerikalinje (Norwegian America Line) in the 1960s, captured in his 1985 book Liners to the Sun:
A woman, after having caught several garments on a protruding screw in her cabin panelling and forgetting to tell the steward about it, decided to fix it herself. She couldn't get the screw in any further, so she took it out instead. Just as she removed it from the wall, the Bergensfjord was struck by a tsunami and heeled violently to port, throwing people and contents to the deck. Until she learned the cause of the accident, she was secretly terrified that her meddling with the ship's infrastructure had somehow triggered it.
John and wife Mary were frequent passengers as he was often called upon to give lectures on board, particularly for maiden voyages and others of historic significance. Whether in suit and tie or his trademark kilt, he struck a distinguished and gallant figure.
My father and I had the privilege to hear John speak several times as the RMS Queen Mary 2, flagship of the storied Cunard Line, made her inaugural crossing from Southampton, England, to New York in 2004. Despite the number of ship enthusiasts and industry names on board, I somehow ranked to have breakfast with him, and he patiently endured a tour of the amateurish design I had created for a ship like the QM2 before Cunard had the funds or the will to do so themselves. My copy of his coffee-table book about that ship bears both an inscription (in which he amusingly took the heat for smudging his own signature) and a stamp commemorating the fact that our encounter took place during that historic voyage.
MY MEMORABILIA FROM THAT VOYAGE INCLUDES JOHN'S INSCRIPTION IN THE COMMEMORATIVE BOOK, AND HIS APOLOGY FOR SMUDGING IT.
One amusing piece of trivia: John's son Ian Maxtone-Graham is one of the brains behind the TV series The Simpsons, and--hidden among the details of a faux-bronze relief along a companionway on the QM2's lounge deck--the sharp-eyed can spot Homer among the mythological figures and wonders of creation.
HOMER SIMPSON AMONG THE MARVELS OF THE EARTH ON A FAUX-BRONZE RELIEF ABOARD THE RMS QUEEN MARY 2. PHOTO CREDIT: GARY BEMBRIDGE. USED UNDER CREATIVE COMMONS LICENSE.
While the movie Titanic takes some credit for the renewed interest in the golden era of ocean liner (which spanned from roughly 1890 til 1960, when jets began carrying the majority of passengers across the Atlantic) it is writers and historians like John who make sure this unique era is thoroughly and engagingly documented for generations to come.
Those in our area could not miss the headline earlier this week of a five-alarm fire that destroyed much of an apartment complex known as Avalon at Edgewater. If you've been around a while, you may remember that the same complex burned in 2000 as construction neared completion.
I'm not really wild about the trend toward wood frame construction for high-density housing like this. With over 400 apartments in a city block, that's a lot of stoves, candles, extension cords, heaters, potentially careless smokers, etc., in a small area. The building is still relatively new, but what happens when wiring and other material is 30, 40, 50 years old? It is not as if it is cheap to live there, either; I saw mention of rents upwards of $3,000 a month. We're getting two similar complexes in our town (one by the same developers) and I expressed concern to town officials that we may be exposed to similar risks.
On Thursday the Newark Star Ledger reported that a worker's blowtorch accidentally started the blaze, and that the crew called and spoke to their supervisor for 15 minutes before dialing 9-1-1, thus critically delaying firefighters' response. This reminded me of another fire, which took place right across the river at Pier 88 in the Passenger Ship Terminal, seventy-three years ago this coming February 8th.
The SS Normandie, luxurious flagship of the Compagnie Générale Transatlantique, took shelter in New York when World War 2 began. Her crew remained on board until December 1941, when she was seized by the U.S. Navy and renamed the USS Lafayette, vessel AP-53.
Workers using blowtorches to remove iron handrails in the ship's cavernous first-class lounge accidentally ignited a stack of life preservers, which were full of a very flammable substance called Kapok. They attempted to extinguish the fire, but the ship's sophisticated sprinkler system had been abandoned by the Navy and they quickly discovered that the fittings did not match American hoses.
The fire spread rapidly; the Normandie boasted numerous large public spaces (the First Class restaurant was longer than the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles) which unfortunately acted like a giant chimney. The FDNY used every means at its disposal to pour water on the ship, and she soon began a dangerous list away from the pier. Her Russian-born designer Vladimir Yourkevitch arrived at the scene and attempted to provide expertise that would have possibly saved her, but he was ignored. In the middle of the night, like a suffering whale that beaches itself, the beautiful ship fell on her side in the muck.
Burned-out wreck of the USS Lafayette (ex-Normandie) lies on her side at New York's Pier 88
PHOTO CREDIT:
James Vaughan. Used under Creative Commons License. Some rights reserved.
She would remain there for a year, an embarrassing waste. The Navy considered re-purposing her as an aircraft carrier, but the damage was found to be too extensive and they focused on other priorities. She was scrapped at Port Newark after the war's end. Luckily, much of her interior fittings had been removed and stored before the disaster, and can be seen in places like the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Our Lady of Lebanon (the Maronite Catholic Cathedral in Brooklyn), and the Chicago Hilton.
Like the Avalon fire, her loss was ruled an accident, and--also similarly--the response immediately after it began played heavily into the outcome. The design of passenger ships has changed significantly since then; the SS United States, launched 12 years later, had almost no wood on board, and both she and the SS France employed large amounts of asbestos, which was also subsequently ruled to be hazardous. Large spaces like those aboard Normandie now have to be subdivided by fire-suppressing bulkheads and doors.
But, on land, are similar precautions being taken? Hopefully we will not have to wait 73 years for a lesson from the Avalon fire to be learned.
Yesterday, I was privileged to see a performance of Sting's new musical The Last Ship, currently in previews on Broadway. A project that had been in the works since 2010, the production follows a concept album in 2013 last year (from which only some tracks made it to the score as presented to us) and a short run in Chicago.
Set in the village of Wallsend-on-Tyne in northeastern England, the show is a stylized account of the conclusion in 2007 of shipbuilding activity by Swan-Hunter, whose accomplishments include the legendary Cunarders RMS Mauretania (holder of the transatlantic speed record) and Carpathia (rescuer of the RMS Titanic survivors). Wallsend produced the last passenger liner built in the United Kingdom (the MS Vistafjord for Norwegian America Line, which later also sailed for Cunard as Caronia) in 1973.
MS Vistafjord, the last liner built in the UK, shown here in Cunard colors at anchor in Geirangerfjord, Norway in 1993 PHOTO CREDIT: flickr.com/aah-yeah Used under Creative Commons. Some rights reserved.
The show begins with a flashback of sorts, as Joe Fletcher (Jamie Jackson) is injured on the job and wants his son Gideon (Montclair's own Collin Kelly-Sordelet) to assume his place as breadwinner by becoming an apprentice at the yard. Gideon rejects this idea and instead signs on as a merchant mariner, promising girlfriend Meg (Rachel Tucker) he will be back for her.
Returning fifteen years later upon the news of his father's death, Gideon (played as an adult by Michael Esper) learns that the yard is to be closed for lack of any further work. This is semi-factual: Following delays and cost overruns, the still-incomplete HMS Lyme Bay, the last vessel to be laid down at Wallsend, was towed in 2006 to a competing yard and Swan Hunter was barred from further naval contracts, ending 130 years of shipbuilding on the Tyne.
Gideon seeks out Meg and discovers she is less than receptive to a reconciliation, her feelings complicated by a teenage son Tom (also portrayed by Kelly-Sordelet) and another man, Arthur (Aaron Lazar), who wants to marry her. Arthur (also a former shipbuilder) has taken a job with a company that wants to see the yard sold and used for shipbreaking and scrapping, an idea the workers find repulsive and insulting.
Encouraged by the parish priest (brilliantly wrought by Fred Applegate... if ever there was a right priest for a particular congregation, Fr. James O'Brien is it!), the workers, including Gideon and Tom, defiantly embark -- against all odds -- on one more project, which symbolizes their collective well-being and pride.
In 2007 the Wallsend cranes, which had dominated the skyline for generations , were dismantled and
shipped to India.
PHOTO CREDIT: Mick Gallagher. Used under Creative Commons license. Some rights reserved
I will not spoil with more details of the plot. I have read that the show is semi-autobiographical, which leads me to wonder what Sting's upbringing was like. There is no mother in the play, and the relationship between Gideon and Joe is clearly freighted, with allusions to abuse. The singer's parents died of cancer within months of each other in 1987 and he explained in a 1996 interview with Q that he declined to attend their funerals, and later regretted it. A period of writer's block followed, and it was not until he released The Soul Cages in 1991 that he felt properly able to mourn.
"My father was... snatched away from me at the wrong time. For me and
for him. It was just at the point when I was beginning to make my
journey home and understand my parents more - the decisions they made," Sting observed. "Having written the songs, what I learnt was to forgive myself for
my part in it and forgive my father and my mother for what they did that
hurt me."
In parallel, Gideon misses Jim's funeral by mere days and is forced to work through unrequited feelings as the story unfolds. Two tracks from The Soul Cages, "Island of Souls" and "All this Time", accompany original songs in the show.
The play gives you a lot to chew on. The theme is one that has repeated itself many times, some of them in places a lot closer to home, as traditional ways of earning a living handed down by generations give way to technology and globalization.
Layer that with the complex relationships between the players as they make difficult choices, and a cast that does well to get you invested as if this was really happening around you. Musically, Sting's influence is heavy, but he draws well from the history of the area, particularly for the company pieces.
The Last Ship is in previews at the Neil Simon Theater.
After a two-day meeting in Pasadena, my friend Matt and I got a lift down to Long Beach for a visit to one of my favorite places, the former Cunard ocean liner RMS Queen Mary, which has served since 1967 as a static attraction and hotel.
The Queen Mary along with her running-mate* the RMS Queen Elizabeth were laid down in the 1930s with the goal of a two-ship service across the Atlantic. Since they could make the crossing in 4 1/2 days, it was possible to have a departure in each direction every week.
In practice, it would take another 15 years for this to be realized. Construction on the Mary was interrupted by the Great Depression for several years, and she finally entered service in 1936, only to be requisitioned by the military when World War II broke out. The Elizabeth was nearing completion in 1939 when fighting broke out, and her first function was as a troopship. Capable of moving 15,000 men at a time, the two liners were credited with shortening the war by a year or more.
The ships' role in the war effort is documented as part of the walking tour which is included in the cost of an overnight hotel stay. They often sailed alone as few vessels could keep up with them. In 1942, the Mary accidentally struck and sank one of her escort vessels, the HMS Curacoa, with the loss of over 200 men. She was directed to keep moving, rather than risk far more lives.
In 1948, the ships were returned to Cunard and refitted. The goal of a weekly express service was finally realized, and the Mary and Elizabeth allowed the line to dominate the transatlantic passenger trade until the advent of the jet airliner led to its decline. The two ships were replaced by the smaller RMS Queen Elizabeth 2 (herself now also retired) in 1969. That ship operated alone, spending much of the year off the transatlantic run to perform cruises, and it was assumed for decades that she would be the last liner. However, a resurgence in interest (brought about in large part, ironically enough, by James Cameron's depiction of the sinking of the RMS Titanic) in ocean travel for its own sake led cruise giant Carnival to purchase the ailing Cunard Line and construct the RMS Queen Mary 2, the largest liner and for a time the largest passenger ship ever built. My dad and I were aboard in 2004 for one of her first crossings.
The original QueenElizabeth was briefly targeted to become a hotel in Florida, but was subsequently purchased by Chinese shipping magnate C. Y. Tung and renamed Seawise University (Sea-Wise, C.Y.'s, get it?) In the process of refit in Hong Kong harbor in 1972, several fires broke out simultaneously and she was destroyed.
The Mary however, was purchased by the City of Long Beach and -- after an epic final voyage around the horn of South America -- arrived at her current home. Her success in this role has been somewhat checkered, I believe in
large part because she is berthed in a remote industrial area which is
not walkable from the city itself.
On this particular
weekend, however, she was bustling. Her convention space, carved from
what had been the cheaper passenger accommodations and forward engine
rooms on the lower decks, was the venue for at least one high school
formal, and we encountered bridal parties and business gatherings in
addition to what appeared to be a healthy amount of tourists there for
the ship herself.
Artwork in the former First Class Restaurant aboard the Queen Mary. Crystal models of the Mary and her running-mate RMS QueenElizabeth were moved along a track to show their relative positions as they cris-crossed the North Atlantic.
There is a good deal of controversy about the steps her various operators have taken to realize a profit. Only her first class spaces were preserved, and much of her original furnishings are apparently piled up in areas that are not accessible to the public. Since she has now been at Long Beach for longer than she operated as a ship, the accumulated attempts to keep people interested and visiting have led to a number of arguably regrettable choices, such as the "ghost tour" and the fact that there is now a Starbucks on the Promenade Deck. The thinnest of threads links some of the attractions to the ship's own story (example: the current Lady Diana exhibit).
Among the spaces that retain their grandeur are the Observation Bar, which overlooks the bow, and the First Class ballroom and dining room. Since these bigger rooms are rented out for private events, it is only by dumb luck that regular hotel guests are able to see them. Fortunately, on Sundays the latter is used for a ($50!) champagne brunch, and we were able to sneak in as it was winding down and grab some photos.
The Immortal Chaplains
Stained glass window depicting the Immortal
Chaplains, aboard the RMS Queen Mary
One area that is easily missed, but deserves to be seen, is the Immortal Chaplains. This ersatz chapel was created on A Deck forward by survivors of the sinking of the USAT Dorchester. This cruise ship-turned-troop transport was torpedoed off the coast of Greenland on February 3, 1943. Of the 900 men on board, only 230 survived.
The chapel was created to honor the four clergymen who -- after comforting others and helping them to safety -- surrendered their own life jackets and went down with the ship, praying and singing together.
I wondered at first what this had to do with the Queen Mary, and learned that among those who contributed to the chapel's creation were two crew members from the German U-boat that sank the Dorchester. They were transported to the United States aboard the Mary a year later, and the sub's first officer later said "We, the sailors of U-boat 223, regret the deep sorrow and pain caused by our torpedo. Never again should be such a murderous war. We should all live as these immortal four chaplains... to love where others hate."
NOTE: The Mary and Elizabeth are frequently referred to as "sister ships" which is technically incorrect. This term is only used for ships built off the same plans. The Elizabeth had two smokestacks instead of three and was slightly larger (and holds the record of the largest riveted vessel ever constructed), but the Mary was faster and always slightly more popular.
By now you are probably sick unto death of references to the R.M.S. Titanic as we approach the centennial of her sinking. Actress Kate Winslet reportedly cringes when she hears "My Heart Must Go On" and every time a cruise ship encounters any kind of mishap, breathless passengers insist "it was just like the Titanic!" Of course it was... except that it was 2,800 miles away, 90 years later, within sight of land and your inconvenience was limited to warm beer for an afternoon in the Anchors Aweigh Lounge til the lights came back on.
Simulated Size Comparison: Titanic vs. Oasis of the Seas(Caution: Contains Music)
For those with no other references, the Titanic remains the "go-to" vessel, to which every new passenger ship is compared. However, for ship geeks like me, the most interesting thing about her is that she almost immediately failed at her job: that is, to get her human cargo safely from one side of the Atlantic to the other. Her speed and size statistics were almost immediately eclipsed by other vessels, and few can name her two sisters, both of which also met with disaster in varying degrees. Since then, hundreds of liners -- ever larger, ever faster -- came and went, most of them long forgotten except by a nostalgic handful. Today's plodding cruise behemoths bear little resemblance to the ships of that time, yet passengers who -- when asked what ship they spent their vacation -- answer, "Um, Carnival?" know Titanic. People who have never seen the ocean know her name and remember her story.
To me the human dynamic of what happened that night, and what it says about the time in which it occurred, is far more interesting than the ship itself, or even the human errors and vices that made it happen. We recently started watching the British "costume drama" Downton Abbey, which is set in England in the same time period, and seeing the characters interact with those in their own and in different social strata is helping to understand a little more about the way events unfolded. Just as scullery maid Daisy knows that she is never to set foot in the family dining room, some in third class seemed to accept as normal that their station in life meant that it was more important that a wealthier person should live while they would die. Just as the Dowager Countess has no problem with the idea that the townspeople let her win the village rose competition every year regardless of merit, the mother of Winslet's fictitious character Rose is more concerned that nobody of lesser pedigree be seated next to her in the lifeboat than the fact that -- for the vast majority of souls on board -- there will be no seat at all. While that remark was fictitious, it was probably not especially unlikely.
Fast-forward a century, the lines of class -- while not erased -- are certainly blurrier than they once were. While it is taking an embarrassingly long time to get past the concept of race or ethnicity as a marker of your human worth, at least we've evolved to the point where making such crass remarks is considered bad manners in most circles. And if someone on the Costa Concordia tried to assert that a balcony suite meant he was entitled to evacuate the tilting cruise ship first, he would have likely been thrown overboard.
The Butt-Millet Memorial Fountain
Washington DC
My friend Julio mentioned in his new pop culture blog recently that a novelist used simple statistics and known cultural facts to surmise that "the love that dare not speak its name" was most certainly in bloom aboard the ill-fated ship, and that -- unlike the preposterous inter-class romance in The Movie -- males from from various passage grades and even the crew were free to roam past barriers and interact. While his assertions are mostly speculation, I learned recently that at least one pair of men on board were widely assumed to be a couple. Major Archibald Butt, who served as chief military aide and close friend to Presidents Roosevelt and Taft, shared a home in Washington DC with a painter named Francis Davis Millet, and the two were traveling together aboard Titanic after Millet got Taft to convince Butt he needed a recuperative vacation. Both died, and the fact that a fountain bearing both their names was constructed the following year near the White House signals that their relationship was both recognized and respected by the President is telling considering that -- 100 years later -- the Current Occupant is "still evolving" on the issue.
Okay well it has been an embarrassing amount of time since I have posted anything here. My friend David described this in a similarly apologetic post as having "gone galt" so then of course I had to go see what that meant, and another ten minutes were lost.
So, what's been happening? Well right after Thanksgiving, we went to Florida, which was fun although really cold (for Florida) which meant we had a great time in the theme parks because there weren't any lines to speak of.
We got to visit a co-worker from years back and her husband, ride round on golf carts and see alligators.
Then there was Christmas, and a ridiculous snowstorm or three. We're in the thick of winter here, now, but as someone pointed out earlier, it was still light enough to see at 5 o'clock, so the days are starting to get noticeably longer again.
There is an interesting maritime event unfolding in New York Harbor as we speak, although I am unfortunately not participating. All three ships of the storied Cunard Line are berthed in the city at the same time: The Queen Mary2 at the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal, and the quasi-sisters Queen Victoria and the new Queen Elizabeth at the Passenger Ship Terminal on Manhattan's west side, the latter having just completed her maiden transatlantic crossing. My friend Doug Newman was aboard, and you can read his account on his blog.
This is is only the second time the entire fleet has been together in the port, which speaks as much about the modern need for marketing pomp as it does the state of the company's affairs: in the 1950s they operated over fifty vessels, now they have just three.
Queen Victoria at the Passenger Ship Terminal
The first was three years ago, for the Victoria's maiden arrival. At that point the legendary QE2 was still in service, and a friend and I took a boat trip out into the Upper Bay to watch as the the three ships preened in front of the Statue of Liberty under a fireworks display.
I was also on hand for the mammoth Queen Mary 2's first visit to the city; in fact my dad and I were aboard, having made the maiden crossing from Southampton in April of 2004.
My love of ships dates back to 1974. That summer, my grandfather's sister and her husband departed New York on the S/S France, flagship of the storied Compagnie Générale Transatlantique, known simply on these shores as the French Line, on their way to spend the summer in Europe. Retirees who never had children, they lived simply most of the year, but my uncle Ziggy was never one to scrimp when it came to food or travel, and they took some spectacular vacations for working-class people of the time.
By the time I arrived on the scene, the jet age was in full swing and airlines had already won over most of the passenger traffic between the United States and Europe. Ironically since the majority of leisure travelers were American, the United States Lines was one of the first to go. The S/S United States, not yet 20 years in service, was laid up in 1969 and -- though still around -- has yet to carry another passenger. One by one, the state-run steamship companies of Germany, Holland, Italy, Greece and France would give up the fight, and - in fact - the mighty France was abruptly withdrawn from service during my aunt and uncle's vacation. But they were old-school, and -- rather than spend seven hours in an airplane seat -- they returned to the States aboard the last holdout, Cunard's Queen Elizabeth 2. That ship continued to offer regular transatlantic crossings (interspersed with cruises to other places) until 2004, when she was replaced on the route by the much larger Queen Mary 2. My dad and I were aboard when that fantastic vessel finished a stormy crossing and arrived in New York for the first time, to a hero's welcome. But that's another blog entry.
CGT poster advertising the France
Getting back to 1974, if the days of the transatlantic liner were waning, there is no evidence of it in my memory of that afternoon. In those carefree days, steamship lines welcomed the family and friends of departing travelers aboard the ships on sailing day. As had always been the tradition, all that was required was a token donation to a seafarers' charity. It was good P.R., because -- at least in my case -- that short visit left me with a desire to pack up and go on my own ocean voyage, one that would not be fulfilled for another 25 years but which is only stoked, rather than quenched, by every day spent aboard ship.
I actually remember very few details of the ship itself. Oddly enough, one thing that stuck in my head was the placement of the bathtub faucets, on the middle of the long wall vs. at one end. One story which I can't recall personally but is is stuck in the family lore relates to this or another such bon voyage party. My uncle had several brothers, and -- like him -- each of them was "a real character" as my paternal grandmother would say. Apparently one of these uncles had earned quite a reputation aboard ship. A cabin steward saw him with our entourage and brusquely inquired, "Are you on this trip?" Upon learning he was headed back down the gangway shortly, the steward rolled his eyes and sighed, "Thank god! I still remember you from the last time!"
Carnival Victory berthed in San Juan
Hopefully my own reputation is better. As I write this, a Certain Party and I, along with his entire immediate family and a friend of his mom, are somewherein the Windward Islands aboard the M/S Serenade of the Seas, part of the Royal Caribbean Cruise Line. This is my eighth ocean voyage (tenth if you count overnight ferry crossings), a fact that is hardly remarkable given the prolific cruisers and crossers of my acquaintance. But no sooner did we arrive at the terminal in San Juan when I felt the same rush that came over me on Pier 88 in New York all those summers ago, a feeling that built as we explored our compact cabin, met the steward, verified our dinner table assignment, and underwent all the little rituals that mark the beginning of seagoing travel, culminating with our after-dark departure past the brilliantly lit Victory (even Carnival ships look pretty at night). I could get used to this.
