For Those in Peril on the Sea

MEMORIAL DAY

The RMS Queen Mary

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 Queen Elizabeth 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 Queen Elizabeth 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.

When the Ship Comes In

Hilary of Poitiers - Bishop & Doctor

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.

We did have a rather unfortunate experience on New Years' Eve at a restaurant in Montclair called Costanera.

Queen Elizabeth 2 in 2008

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 Mary 2 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.

Down to the Sea

MARY THE VIRGIN - MOTHER OF CHRIST

Uncle Ziggy and Aunt Bertha aboard ship

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 somewhere in 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.