Maiden Voyages

by Siân Evans

  The launching ceremony of RMS Queen Mary occurred on 26 September 1934, attended by the king and queen. The half-built vessel was the largest ever launched into the narrow River Clyde, and there were serious safety concerns since the engines had not yet been installed. As 35,000 tonnes of metal accelerated down the slipway, drag chains attached to the hull acted as brakes. So vast was the ship that it caused a huge displacement wave on entering the river, swamping the footwear of tens of thousands of cheering onlookers standing on the river banks. It was all very British; even the weather had lived up to expectations. ‘Crowds’ Enthusiasm Unquenched by Drenching Rain’ was the headline in the next day’s Daily Telegraph, which published a sixteen-page supplement celebrating the occasion, penned by the paper’s shipping correspondent, Hector C. Bywater. Two more years of finishing work lay ahead for the Queen Mary, but the project provided a resurgence for British industry as well as a much needed boost for public morale. When the ship finally left the Clyde for its sea trials in March 1936, 1.5 million people turned out to see it depart, so keen were they to witness this symbol of national pride. For many, the Queen Mary had come to embody the triumph of dogged determination and willpower over the enervating effects of the Great Depression. ‘This great ship, freighted with the hopes of a nation’ as Hector Bywater put it.

  8

  The Slide to War

  On 27 May 1936 the Queen Mary left Southampton for New York, via Cherbourg. This was the vessel’s maiden voyage, and nearly one million observers watched it inch out into the Solent on its inaugural journey, accompanied by a flotilla of smaller ships and boats. So great was the excitement that 15,000 people had paid five shillings a head to visit the ship in the week before it departed on its maiden voyage. Newsreel footage of the era shows crowds of excited visitors touring the ship, particularly families, with children in their ‘Sunday Best’ outfits, their fathers sporting suits and over-coats, and their mothers wearing hats and fur stoles. A trip around the Queen Mary before it sailed was a thrill, even if the visitors were not actually passengers, and were ‘gonged off’ by stewards when it was time for them to return to shore. The money raised went to charity, but Cunard had not anticipated the public’s subliminal feeling that they had a right to own a piece of this mighty vessel; by the eve of sailing, every ashtray on board had been stolen as a souvenir.

  Many had anticipated the launch of the Queen Mary for years, and now it was sailing day at last; passengers trotted up the gangways, to be directed to their cabins by officers and stewards. Baggage handlers took charge of tons of intricately labelled luggage, while armloads of bouquets were delivered by bellboys to the waiting arms of stewardesses. Among the floral tributes, a five-foot-long replica of the vessel, constructed out of white flowers, stole the show as it was carefully carried aboard. As the time of departure neared, most of the 2,079 passengers on board milled about on deck, hoping to catch a sight of their nearest and dearest down below on the quayside, so that they could wave frantically at each other, while the 1,100 crew readied the ship for its inaugural voyage. The band struck up for the umpteenth time, the last hawsers were cast off, and the great ship almost imperceptibly inched away from dry land. Small tugs adeptly nosed the Queen Mary out of the basin and into the Solent. In more open water, there was an armada of craft of all types and sizes – excursion paddle-steamers hired for the day, pleasure craft, fishing boats, naval cutters, yachts and dinghies. All were full of cheering onlookers, keen to provide a personal escort. Overhead, planes buzzed the ship, with news cameramen on board, recording the spectacular event for newsreels to be shown in cinemas, where it was watched avidly and triumphantly by millions. ‘To Britons, she represents the restoration of Britain’s supremacy on the seas. With her goes the hope and pride of a nation,’ boomed the commentator above the swelling chords of ‘Rule Britannia’. Among the passengers was a fourteen-year-old British girl called Heather Beagley, travelling to New York with her family. She recalled the ‘tremendous excitement’ of the voyage, and likened it to ‘going to the moon now’.1

  All classes were free to mingle on deck on this first voyage, and afternoons afloat were often spent in reclining chairs in the open air, with a rug over the knees, while an attentive steward hovered with a trayful of tea and cakes. The sumptuous interiors of the ship conjured up a fantasy world, especially in the evenings. As an entity, the ship most resembled a vast, floating hotel, but there was an atmosphere of great gaiety, with a constant kaleidoscope of galas, ballgowns, champagne and fine dining. Music for every occasion was provided by Henry Hall’s Dance Band. The team of on-board photographers worked in shifts every night to meet the huge demand for commemorative pictures from party-going passengers.

  There were hopes that the Queen Mary might arrive in New York in time to claim the Blue Riband, the much contested award for the fastest cross-Atlantic trip, but the ship was delayed by fog and missed beating the record, held by the Normandie, by a mere forty minutes. Nevertheless, the arrival of the Queen Mary in New York Harbour on 1 June 1936 was rapturous, as a flotilla of vessels of all types welcomed Cunard’s new flagship, and the quayside was packed with cheering well-wishers. Heather Beagley recalled that aeroplanes flew alongside and overhead in salute, and fire hoses played over the Hudson River, casting rainbows in the sunshine with their arcs of spray. The pandemonium raised by the competing sirens, plane engines, bands and well-wishers’ whistles and whoops was drowned out by the Queen Mary’s sonorous horn, a resonant vibrato subsequently likened by Edith Sowerbutts to hearing Dame Clara Butt singing ‘There’ll Always Be an England’.

  Cunard’s flagship vessel was intended to dwarf all other contenders on the lucrative and prestigious transatlantic route. The Queen Mary combined the finest classical marine architecture with advanced engineering expertise. Cunard believed that approximately 70 per cent of this ship’s revenue would come from the American market. Consequently the interiors were reassuringly traditional, although leavened with a certain amount of whimsy and a restrained form of modernism. The veteran architect Arthur Davis, who had designed the interiors of the Aquitania, the Franconia and Laconia, had once more been engaged in 1935 for this new ship; in fact, this was his last major commission. According to his daughter, Ann Davis Thomas, speaking in 2004, ‘he finally did the Queen Mary, which he hated. He was made to do it in Art Deco style, and it was not his bag. But the curious thing is, somehow, he did it. He managed to do it, and it’s become almost a prototype of Art Deco.’2

  The Queen Mary’s interiors incorporated subtle, natural materials and fine finishes. More than fifty tons of wooden veneers, taken from fifty-six different species of trees, represented all the countries of the British Empire. The accommodation ranged from luxurious staterooms to the more compact but well-designed third-class cabins. Cunard claimed that the public rooms represented ‘those fundamental characteristics of British homes which are generally admired and appreciated by men and women of all nations’. However, when Cecil Beaton travelled on the Queen Mary on its maiden voyage, he criticised the lack of theatricality in the ship’s interior, particularly the absence of a spectacular staircase suitable for making the grande descente. ‘When constructing a boat, even a luxury liner, the English do not consider their women very carefully. There are hardly any large mirrors in the general rooms, no great flight of stairs for the ladies to make an entrance.’3

  Women were more actively involved in the creation of the Queen Mary than in any previous British-built ships. The role of female artists, interior designers and artisans working on the preparation of the Queen Mary was acknowledged in the press, especially in an article in the London Evening Standard on 11 February 1936. Sisters Doris and Anna Zinkeisen provided numerous paintings for the prestigious Verandah Grill and the white and gold Ballroom, while Dame Laura Knight created a special picture for one of the private dining rooms. Lady Hilton Young’s marble plaque of Queen Mary, set in a panel of special burr walnut, was to be installed at the head of the main stairc
ase facing the Main Hall. Meanwhile, Hetty Perry provided a decorative map, to be hung under the clock in the tourist smoking room, as well as wall decorations for the children’s attractive playrooms in the tourist section. Margot Gilbert also painted a sequence on the theme of ‘Dancing Through the Ages’, representing the art form from stately measures and classical dances down to jazz.

  The same newspaper article also recorded the role of thousands of unknown women working in manufacturing, engaged in provisioning and fitting out the great ship: ‘busy fingers are plying needles and machines in Glasgow and Liverpool, in London and Ireland. Women old and young are putting every endeavour into their skilled tasks. Women operators are engaged in preparing fabrics and making upholstery; women’s handiwork is being employed in making pillow-cases and coverlets, and even in preparing compass equipment, the latter a most delicate task.’4

  The Queen Mary was luxuriously fitted out to meet every possible need. There were two indoor swimming pools, beauty salons, libraries and children’s nurseries for all three classes, a music studio and lecture hall, a telephone system that could connect passengers to anywhere in the world, outdoor tennis courts, a squash court and dog kennels. There was an arcade of shops, with twenty-four large window displays, including haberdashery, gifts and tailoring. A fountain, deep sofas and baskets of fresh flowers enhanced the air of relaxed luxury. The ship was also the first transatlantic liner to have a purpose-built Jewish prayer room on board, available to all classes of passenger – an enlightened response to the growing mood of anti-Semitism in parts of mainland Europe.

  The largest single space on board was the first-class main dining room (the Grand Salon), which was three storeys in height. At one end was a large map of the transatlantic crossing, with twin tracks representing both the more northerly summer/autumn route, and the winter/spring route (further south to avoid icebergs). During each crossing, a motorised model of Queen Mary would indicate the vessel’s daily progress. An even more exclusive alternative to the main dining room was available to cabin-class passengers – the Verandah Grill on the sun deck. This à la carte restaurant could seat approximately eighty diners, and it was converted to the Starlight Club every night after dinner. Another popular spot for elite socialising was the Observation Bar, an art deco-styled lounge with wide ocean views.

  Cunard’s marketing department promoted the vessel’s modernity, its technological sophistication and, above all, its breathtakingly vast scale. The Queen Mary – A Book of Comparisons was published in 1936 listing newsworthy statistics about the longest ship in the world. Modernist cartoons in red and black, like a Futurist version of the Beano, illustrated a plethora of impressive facts and figures. The engines generated a mighty 200,000 horsepower, while the ship, at 1,018 feet in length, exceeded the height of the Eiffel Tower (984 feet), the Pyramid of Cheops in Egypt (461 feet) and Westminster Tower, the home of Big Ben (310 feet). There were three acres of deck space given over to recreation, and twenty-one lifts, while the ballroom was the largest ever created on a ship. No detail was too prosaic: over 10 million rivets were used to construct the ship, and 30,000 electric lamps illuminated it, while six miles of carpet were cleaned every day with scores of vacuum cleaners.

  Feeding the huge numbers of passengers and crew required victualling on a vast scale. Some of the staple foods apparently carried on an Atlantic round trip included 1,000 pineapples, 50,000 lbs potatoes, 3,600 lbs cheese, 3,600 lbs butter, 6 tons fresh fish, 60,000 eggs, 20 tons meat, 12,800 lbs sugar, 3,600 quarts milk, 1,200 lbs coffee, 2,000 quarts ice cream, 200 boxes of apples, 280 barrels of flour and 5 tons ham and bacon. The kitchens covered an acre, and over 40,000 meals would be served during a single voyage, using 500,000 pieces of china, glassware and table silver. On-board linen supplies included 210,000 towels, 30,000 sheets, 31,000 pillow cases, 21,000 tablecloths and 92,000 napkins. In addition, the Queen Mary carried 5,000 bottles of spirits, 40,000 bottles of beer, 10,000 bottles of table wine, 60,000 bottles of mineral water, 6,000 gallons of draught ale, 5,000 cigars and 20,000 packets of cigarettes on each transatlantic voyage.

  In the 1930s ocean liners captured the public imagination in the way that aircraft and spacecraft were to appeal to later generations. The perception of technological rivalry with the ships of other nations was bound up in this appeal; the French had launched the superlative Normandie the previous year, and inevitably the two super-liners were compared.

  The Normandie had entered service in 1935. It was daringly avant-garde, and it re-established France as the pre-eminent nation for visual and material culture. Compagnie Générale Transatlantique (CGT, and typically known overseas as the French Line) had commissioned the best French designers and artists to provide chic settings of unimaginable luxury and modernity. The Normandie was the biggest ship afloat when it was launched, and the largest art deco object ever created, according to Ghislaine Wood, co-curator of the Victoria and Albert Museum exhibition, Ocean Liners. It was breath-taking in its audacious approach to interior design. The ship was full of huge public spaces, designed like the most daring theatrical or movie sets, with dramatic entrances, mirrored surfaces, framing doorways, ornate screens, settings where the passengers could pose and ‘grandstand’. The first-class dining saloon was nearly 300 feet long, rising through three decks to accommodate 700 diners. The entrance boasted bronze doors twenty feet high, and the decorative scheme was a medley of onyx, gold and crystal, with illuminated glass fountains and lights by Lalique.

  There were many opportunities for the woman of fashion to make a spectacular grande descente, as vast, decorative mirror-lined staircases linked the various public rooms of one floor to another, acting as catwalks for the well-dressed passengers.

  The ship was heralded as a triumph of the modern age and instantly became the pride of the French Line. An estimated 100,000 spectators had lined New York Harbour for its triumphant arrival. Its passenger list included Ernest Hemingway, Marlene Dietrich, Walt Disney, Salvador Dali, Douglas Fairbanks Jr, James Stewart and Bing Crosby. The Normandie was chic, sleek and fast, securing the prestigious Blue Riband on its inaugural transatlantic crossing. Despite the Normandie’s understandable appeal to the international fashionable set, to celebrities and Hollywood moguls, maharajahs and millionaires, the ship was not commercially successful in its own right. CGT ran it mostly at a loss, subsidised by rather more modest vessels of the same line, despite the iconic advertising poster by Cassandre.

  Just eleven years after the Armistice, the German merchant fleet were once again serious rivals in transatlantic trade. In July 1929 the German liner Bremen sailed on its maiden voyage to New York and won the coveted Blue Riband with an average of 27.38 knots. The Bremen’s sister ship, the Europa, also broke speed records in transatlantic crossings in 1930. The Europa and the Bremen were the twin transatlantic flagships running between German ports and North America. Noël Coward was familiar with both, having crossed the Atlantic on one of them (he claimed he could not tell them apart) in the spring of 1932. He later wrote about his vague sense of suppressed guilt in patronising a German-owned ship, even though the Great War, which had menaced his teenage years, seemed so far in the past. Despite the apparent sense of equanimity among the European nations in the early 1930s, he maintained a lingering sense of unease about the future.

  Sir Percy Bates, Cunard chairman, noted as early as 1930 that shipping was not an end in itself, but rather a part of the worldwide ebb and flow of people and commodities. He wrote that shipping could not flourish when trade was sick, and he identified the main cause of the Great Depression as fear, not just among individuals, but also as it affected nations. He was surprisingly prescient in correctly identifying some of the fault lines that would fracture the fragile world peace by the end of the decade: ‘Spain is concerned with revolution; France nervous about Germany; Germany afraid of Russia; Russia afraid of her own people; England of economic troubles; even America is perhaps afraid of these … the result is slow paralysis of inte
rnational trade, with corresponding evils for shipping.’5

  Nationalism and politics had become inextricably bound up with each other during the early 1930s. The post-war rivalry between international shipping companies had intensified, and each ‘great ship’ that was launched was imbued with ideas of patriotism and aspirations to maritime superiority. The international shipping companies were sensitive to political developments in other countries, especially the ominous rise of the National Socialist Party in Germany. The issue of whether foreign visitors should offer the ‘Heil Hitler’ salute when visiting the country was broached in November 1933, just ten months after Hitler came to power, in the Canadian-Pacific Gazette, the on-board newspaper of the Empress of Britain. The leading German newspaper, the Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, had already recommended that foreign visitors should wear special identification badges, as ‘Germany is anxious to avoid any further unpleasantness such as that which followed the attacks on British and American citizens who failed to give the Hitler salute … Failing the introduction of the badge system the Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung advises foreigners either to give the Hitler salute for the sake of peace, or else avoid all occasions in which it might be required.’

  With Germany resurgent under Hitler, the rise of National Socialism had profound repercussions for that nation’s merchant navy. Hitler intended to reward those supporters who had swept the Nazis to power in 1933. The ‘strength through joy’ initiative encompassed the building of two cruise ships, with single-class accommodation on board for model workers. The Robert Ley sported a swastika on its funnel, and was launched in 1938. Newsreel footage survives showing Adolf Hitler visiting the ship amid cheering crowds, who were delighted to be able to join the ‘cruising classes’.