Maiden Voyages

by Siân Evans

  There were distinct advantages to transatlantic travel by air: the costs were comparable, and the Boeing 707 made it possible to fly the Atlantic in under eight hours, compared with five days afloat on even the fastest ocean liner. The flights were comfortable and flying at such high altitudes lessened the experience of turbulence. The planes’ interiors were modern and glamorous, and the on-board flight attendants, the ‘air stewardesses’, were young, slim, beautiful and often dressed in futuristic-looking fashions. In short, air travel was progressive and in keeping with the more optimistic Brave New World scientists and politicians had promised after the war. The rich took up so-called airliners and flying became the transport choice of the international jet set.

  The Queen Mary made its thousandth Atlantic crossing on 25 September 1957. By the middle of 1959 two-thirds of transatlantic passengers between Britain and America were travelling by jet, especially in the off-peak winter months when sailing the Atlantic was an unappetising prospect. In December 1960 the Cunard passenger ship Parthia (a vessel only thirteen years old and the favourite ship of Katharine Hepburn) sailed from Liverpool to New York with just twenty-five passengers occupying its 251 berths. By the early 1960s, 95 per cent of passenger traffic across the Atlantic was by aircraft, and this effectively marked the end of the ocean liners as a form of mass transportation. However, the shipping companies adjusted to their changing circumstances, and expanded their role as cruise ship operators, providing luxurious ‘floating hotels’, the forerunners of the international cruising industry that continues in the twenty-first century.

  Conclusion: Sailing into the Sunset

  Millions of women’s lives were profoundly changed by the phenomenon of transatlantic travel by ship in the first half of the twentieth century. The ocean liners had a huge impact on the economies and geopolitics of powerful nations, but they also transformed the life chances and livelihoods of individuals from all nations, classes and backgrounds, by providing them with unparalleled opportunities for independence, adventure and travel.

  Sea transport was a practical necessity for anyone who wished to travel between the great land masses of Europe and North America, and ocean-going vessels of all sizes were the only practical option until the middle of the twentieth century. However, there were also psychological aspects of sea voyages the made a transatlantic trip a memorable experience, at the very least a welcome novelty, if not a great adventure, for most individual travellers. Through the growth of the popular media, especially in the years between the wars, the general public came to associate technologically sophisticated ships, each bigger and better than the last, with their own optimistic notions of progress and modernity. National pride was invested in and exemplified by these great enterprises, and the vessels were described lyrically, almost poetically, by the commentators of the day. During the 1920s and 1930s, the Ocean Greyhounds were the mightiest man-made moving objects in existence, commanding awe and admiration in equal measure, as they loomed into view at the end of piers and docks.

  For the passengers, the voyage itself provided a unique and slightly surreal experience; there was the necessary duration of the trip, at least five days, often seven days or more. The strictures and routines of normal life were suspended, and replaced with a hectic social whirl with one’s fellow travellers, accompanied by music, dancing, entertainment, sports, gambling and the ever-present possibility of romance or intrigue. In a more formal era, the ship’s transient population felt themselves to be ‘on show’ when in public, and dressed and behaved accordingly. The theatricality of the setting was acknowledged, even celebrated, by the ship’s designers, whose interiors ranged from historical pastiche to art deco grandiosity, complete with mirrors and elegant staircases, all the better to effect the grande descente. Even the measure of time itself was flexible, with the ship’s clocks advancing or receding each day. In addition, there was the lurking knowledge that an iceberg or a storm could imperil the ship, which added a scintillating frisson of danger.

  The golden age of transatlantic travel, the two decades between the wars, coincided with huge social changes for women, and the great ships were often their means of escape, from old lives to newer, hopefully better ones. The Great War had propelled many of them into the workplace, where they had taken on roles previously occupied by men. After the Armistice, many women were reluctant to give up their new jobs to accommodate the menfolk returning from war. Financial and personal independence of a sort had been hard-won – now it became a badge of honour, along with the vote. The massive death toll meant there were hundreds of thousands of ‘surplus women’ in Britain who could not expect to marry, and who needed to earn their own living, whether in new professions, or by travelling overseas in search of better opportunities and bigger gene pools. For women passengers, getting on to a ship and crossing the Atlantic was a professional and personal gamble. The voyage itself was emblematic of women acting with agency, even if it required a leap of faith. By travelling they could reinvent themselves, discarding their old existences to forge new ones. Hedy Lamarr left behind her husband and family, her privileged if restricted life in Austria, and even her name, to become a Hollywood star and a pioneering scientific inventor. Tallulah Bankhead took London by storm, using her acting abilities and her wits to delight and thrill the Bright Young Things of 1920s London, while outraging the British establishment. Josephine Baker became the toast of liberal Paris, celebrated for her extraordinary talents, rather than restricted and discriminated against because of the colour of her skin.

  Some travelled regularly on the Atlantic Ferry as a necessary part of their lives, constantly linking aspects of their individual careers between continents. Hard-working professional performers such as Lady Diana Cooper and Adele Astaire, businesswomen such as Sibyl Colefax, and pioneering politicians such as American-born British MP Lady Astor relied on the great ships to help them pursue their dreams.

  Events during a voyage could dramatically affect the subsequent course of women’s lives. Lady Lucy Duff-Gordon and her husband, who had previously enjoyed lives of privilege, luxury and social status, escaped the sinking of the Titanic, but they could not avoid the malicious rumours and subsequent damage to their public reputations. Thelma Furness’s sea-borne love affair with Aly Khan wrecked her long-standing relationship with the Prince of Wales, and sparked the romance between him and Wallis Simpson, leading to the abdication.

  Individuals’ decisions to emigrate had life-changing consequences, particularly for those travelling in third class. The Riffelmacher family exchanged the poverty and hyperinflation of 1920s Germany for the prosperity and security of the American mid-West. Mary Anne MacLeod set out in 1930 as an eighteen-year-old domestic servant from an impoverished Scottish island and became the mother of the President of the United States.

  Celebrities often saw an ocean voyage as a way to promote their careers. Marlene Dietrich and Elsa Maxwell were always willing to pose for photos, recognising the benefit of good publicity. Others – reclusive individuals such as millionairess Barbara Hutton and publicity-shy screen diva Greta Garbo – craved the seclusion and privacy of a transatlantic ship. Some saw the journey itself as a valuable experience, which provided good ‘material’ for their careers. Inter-war writers such as E.M. Delafield and Anita Loos responded to the Zeitgeist, setting their popular fiction largely aboard the inter-war transatlantic liners. By contrast, Martha Gellhorn, battle-hardened war correspondent, found her way on to whatever vessel would take her across the sea to get to the story, regardless of the personal risk.

  Some unscrupulous women embarked on ocean voyages for their own nefarious purposes: ‘ocean vamps’ and blackmailers found the big ships a happy hunting ground, while female accomplices of card-sharps would act as lookouts or spies for their partners. In addition, for both passengers and crew, there was money to be made smuggling contraband, or illicit alcohol during the febrile days of Prohibition.

  For women in steerage or third class, transatlantic tr
avel was often an endurance test, a challenging and uncomfortable transition between the familiar Old World and the completely unknown. Some, like hard-pressed former stewardess Christiana Klingemann, were so desperate to escape the economic hardship crippling their home countries that they were forced to stow away. Others, like Earnestine Tennenbaum, saw the New World as a refuge from the rising tide of pogroms, purges and anti-Semitism that threatened to engulf them, and viewed the ship that transported them and their families as a magic carpet to freedom.

  In wartime the ship could be both a means of escape and at the same time an extraordinarily vulnerable target, alone and unprotected on an open sea. It took courage and nerve to cross the Atlantic, knowing that one’s ship might be torpedoed, or to volunteer to escort ‘seavacs’, the children being sent abroad by ship for their safety. After the Second World War, troops were repatriated, families were reunited and GI brides with their young offspring bravely set out for unknown countries, joining husbands they often barely knew at the other end of long ocean voyages. Their journeys were made more tolerable by the ministrations of Red Cross nurses and stewardesses.

  The return of peace in the late 1940s and early 1950s attracted film stars and royalty, who travelled on hastily refurbished ships, where unparalleled levels of service and luxury prevailed, recalling almost a nostalgic era. However, the same ‘beautiful people’ were quick to take up inter-continental air travel when it became an affordable and viable way of crossing the Atlantic. Passenger ships were either sold off or transformed into cruise ships, to meet the new leisure market. Shipping companies expanded into leisure cruising, catering for wealthy individuals such as Clare L. MacBeth, the ‘perpetual passenger’ who spent fourteen years living aboard the Caronia, and privilege and pleasure were their new maxims.

  During the golden age of ocean-going ships passengers relied on the expertise, advice and practical assistance of working women, those who had chosen the sea as their careers. The sea-going roles available to women increased greatly during the first five decades of the twentieth century. Initially they were employed, somewhat grudgingly, only in traditional, ‘nurturing’ roles, as matrons, to look after the sick, and then as stewardesses, providing comfort and practical assistance to their female and junior clients. Outstanding characters, such as Violet Jessop, the Unsinkable Stewardess, served for decades on ships because they enjoyed the working life afloat despite its many tribulations, discomforts and dangers. Nursery nurses and nursing sisters augmented the stewardesses’ ranks in the 1920s, in response to a boom in both tourism and mass migration. Conductresses such as Edith Sowerbutts had considerable status within the ship’s hierarchy, as they were employed on transatlantic routes to guard the moral welfare of the unaccompanied, and those deemed most vulnerable to sex traffickers. As a result they often clashed with male authority figures on board the ships, which did not make them popular, but did engender respect.

  Between the wars, a woman’s place was no longer necessarily ‘in the home’ (whether her own, or cleaning the silver in someone else’s). Seafaring women tended to be self-sufficient and independent characters. Their work was physically demanding, their working environment might be physically cramped and occasionally dangerous, and their workmates could be unpleasant. But they challenged popular assumptions of what women’s capabilities and aptitudes were believed to be in the mostly macho world of the merchant navy, by proving themselves to be resourceful, intelligent and brave. Those with individual and unique talents, such as swimming instructresses like Hilda James, were initially taken on to meet women’s changing perceptions of sports and leisure, but soon tackled extra responsibilities and were the forerunners of women working in the leisure cruising industry today. Hairdressers such as Ann Runcie, beauticians, masseuses and seamstresses were employed to enhance the appearance of their customers, and were well-rewarded with salaries and tips. By the 1930s stenographers were making inroads into the holy of holies, the purser’s office, and were entrusted with junior clerking roles, though they always remained subordinate to male officers until after the Second World War.

  The economies of British cities such as Liverpool and Southampton were intimately bound up with the fortunes of the merchant shipping fleet, with subsidiary industries such as huge laundries, victualling and maintenance employing numerous women around the ports. Many seafaring women had grown up in families where generations of menfolk had served at sea, and their incomes were essential to support households with salaries and tips earned on the lucrative North Atlantic run, especially in the inter-war years. Whenever there was an economic downturn, female seafarers would be laid off, and forced to seek other work ashore, though they often returned to the ships when demand for their services increased. During the two World Wars, stalwart seafaring women such as Maida Nixson often acquitted themselves well while afloat, remaining calm under pressure, even when under enemy attack. There were also those individuals who displayed extraordinary courage, such as Victoria Drummond MBE, the ship’s engineer, an exceptional pioneer in every way.

  After the Second World War, the merchant navy recruited former Wrens, women who had joined the armed forces but who had previously only gone to sea in restricted circumstances. For the first time some were deemed sufficiently experienced and motivated to work their way into officer roles as LAPs, later becoming pursers in their own rights. By the late 1940s there were many new opportunities for working women seafarers, who needed to earn money but were also keen to exchange the gritty, grey austerity of war-torn Britain for the chance to travel. Working women at all levels subsequently found useful and worthwhile careers afloat in the fast-expanding seaborne leisure industry, and in time their presence on board cruise ships was accepted and largely respected by their male colleagues.

  By the beginning of the twenty-first century, a small number of determined women had finally made it on to the bridge, that bastion of male control, as deck officers. While 98 per cent of the workforce involved in the shipping industry worldwide is still male, the leisure and cruising sector offers much wider representation. Nowadays nearly 20 per cent of the global cruise industry employees are female, and in some particularly enlightened companies, up to 22 per cent of the officers on board are women. Cunard appointed its first woman as captain of a cruise liner in 2010. Inger Klein Thorhauge had first worked as a stewardess in her school holidays, aged sixteen, and came to love the life afloat. She obtained her Master’s Licence in 1994, joined Cunard in 1997 and worked her way up the ranks. In July 2016 Captain Inger, aged forty-three, was at the helm of the giant cruise ship Queen Elizabeth as it sailed into Liverpool to celebrate the centenary of the iconic Cunard Building.

  Edith Sowerbutts, feisty veteran of the transatlantic run, died in 1992, but she would have been delighted to have witnessed such an important symbolic achievement for a woman seafarer, to be in charge of a mighty ship. Presciently, in her memoirs she had written: ‘Nobody had visualised that female staff, other than the very necessary stewardesses, would ever be carried on ocean-going liners … We, of my generation, comprised the thin end of the wedge. Women would eventually be signed on for seagoing positions once considered to be male preserves.’1

  Those pioneering and intrepid women who sailed the Atlantic during the golden age of travel, whether as passengers or seafarers, had their lives transformed by their experiences, mostly for the better. Their motivations were as diverse as their personalities, but for each of them, to embark upon a sea voyage at all was to take a step into the unknown. Every life is precious and unique to the individual living it; the vast majority of women whose lives are now largely unknown or unrecorded, as well as those who became famous and celebrated – or notorious – in their lifetimes, were willing to sail the ocean in hope, rather than stay ashore in fear. In the words of Grace Brewster Murray Hopper, United States Rear Admiral and pioneering computer scientist: ‘A ship in harbour is safe. But that is not what ships are built for.’2

  Ships’ Names, by ‘Lucio’<
br />
  I think that few would care to sail

  On board the barque Dyspeptic,

  Though there’s something rather fit and hale

  About the Antiseptic;

  But many a sport of the frugal sort

  Would book by the Economic,

  And of honest mirth there should be no dearth

  Aboard the good ship Comic.

  The millionaire would pay his fare

  For a passage per Aurific

  And the bishop’s scope would be met, I hope,

  By a berth on the Beatific;

  The countryman would feel at home

  On board the bold Bucolic

  And the chorus girl could cross the foam

  In fine style on the Frolic.

  Geologists could much enjoy