by Senan Molony
Mersey: ‘Where are they now?’
Harbinson: ‘America.’
Mersey: ‘Are they coming here?’
Harbinson: ‘No, but if your Lordship permits it, we propose to have their evidence taken on commission.’
Mersey: ‘I think we are very unlikely to do that.’
Mr J. P. Farrell, MP for Longford, home county of both McCormack and McCoy, then stood up and mentioned the fact that he and his lordship were former colleagues in the House of Commons (he was then accorded some breathing space):
Farrell: ‘Thomas McCormack alleges that when swimming in the sea after leaving the Titanic and while endeavouring to board two boats, he was struck in the head and hands and pushed back into the sea and an endeavour was made to drown him.’
Mersey: ‘The man who did it may be guilty of manslaughter for all I know.’
Farrell: ‘No my Lord, for McCormack was saved.’
Mersey: ‘Well he may be guilty of an attempt to commit manslaughter, and I cannot try that issue.’
Farrell: ‘Is it not a matter for investigation by this court? The same charge is made by McCoy.’
Mersey: ‘I do not think it comes within my jurisdiction. This is an issue which must be tried by somebody else.’
Farrell: ‘We have gone to a great deal of expense with the view of having it investigated.’
Lord Mersey told Mr Farrell to confine himself to what were proper issues.
McCormack had been working as a bartender in Bayonne when he decided to return home to visit to his parents, Bernard and Maria of Glenmore. In New Jersey, young McCormack lived with his sister, Mrs Catherine Evers, who was five years older. ‘He jumped from the ship as it was sinking and was twice repulsed by lifeboats,’ said the Irish Independent on 4 May 1912. ‘Thomas McCormick [sic], one of the four male survivors,’ added the Irish World of New York the same day, ‘jumped overboard just as the ship was sinking and swam to a life raft.’
Mr McCormack often recalled that he was asleep in his compartment below decks when the mishap occurred. He was awakened after the collision by two cousins who died in the disaster. After dressing, he made his way to the main deck and jumped into the ocean. He was taken aboard a lifeboat an hour later.
(Daily Journal, New Jersey, 4 November 1975)
According to the Western Nationalist, 27 April 1912:
Thomas McCormick [sic], who was rescued from the Titanic as he was returning from a visit to his parents in Ireland, is now in hospital suffering from shock and exposure, in addition to bruises on the head, which he declares he received at the hands of officers of the Titanic. He was accompanied on his voyage by two cousins, John and Philip Kieran [sic], who were lost. McCormick says that when the ship was sinking, he jumped and swam. He got his hands on the gunwale of one lifeboat when members of the crew of the Titanic struck him on the head and tore his hands loose from the boat.
After repeated efforts to enter the boat he swam to another boat and met with the same reception.
Finally however, two sisters in the boat, Mary and Kate Murphy, pulled him on board in spite of the crew’s attempts to keep him out.
McCormack told the Jersey Journal, 23 April 1912:
After being beaten severely by sailors with oars I managed to get into one of the lifeboats … After a while one of the sailors saw my legs protruding, and seizing them asked me ‘what in ___ I was doing in the boat’. He dragged me out and tried to throw me into the water. I grabbed him by the throat and said if I went overboard I would take him with me. When he saw that he could not throw me over he finally desisted and I was allowed to remain.
The New York Herald, 22 April 1912 noted:
Girls saved youth
Thomas McCormick [sic], nineteen years old, of No. 36 West Twentieth Street, Bayonne, N.J., who was a passenger on the Titanic, and is a patient in St Vincent’s Hospital, this city, suffering from exposure, says that his life was saved by two sisters, Kate and Mary Murphy, who picked him up from the water, dragging him into a lifeboat and sitting on him after sailors manning the boat had struck him on the head and tried to drive him from clinging to the sides of the boat.
A body of opinion considers McCormack to have been saved not by the Murphy sisters, but by the McCoys, who were also from the same locality. McCormack himself named Alice and Kate McCoy in his early Jersey Journal account.
The New Jersey News recorded:
Memories of a Titanic night – he recalls sinking 62 years ago
The Easter season is never a completely happy time for Tom McCormack of Elizabeth, N.J. It always brings memories of his frantic, leaping escape from the sinking Titanic, which went down in the freezing Atlantic sixty-two years ago today.
McCormack is one of only thirty living survivors of one of the worst sea disasters in history, and throughout his life he has had nightmares about that night when more than 1,500 people died as the supposedly unsinkable ship hit an iceberg and sank on her maiden voyage.
‘I try not to think about that night, but I can’t help it,’ McCormack said yesterday. ‘It’s a memory I’ll always have with me.’
The 81-year old man has lived in retirement in a small apartment at 120 Madison Ave., Elizabeth, for 16 years. He is bedridden, but remains in generally good spirits under the care of his nephew, Barney Evers.
Sixty-two years ago, McCormack was a 19-year old with the same sense of adventure that drew the other passengers to the Titanic’s trip. McCormack was returning to America with two cousins from a visit to his native Ireland.
Just before midnight, 15 April 1912, the indestructible sailing fortress smashed into an iceberg and began to sink. ‘I was sound asleep at the time,’ McCormack said. ‘I jumped out of bed and ran into the hall with my two cousins when we hit. Everyone was crazy and running, screaming. My cousins and I separated in the confusion. They eventually drowned. I kept running toward the deck.’
When he got on deck, there were thousands of people pushing and shoving each other. ‘They were crying, yelling. I didn’t know what was going on. I panicked and ran to the rail. I never stopped to look how far from the water I was. I just jumped over. It felt like a mile down to the ocean, and it was freezing water. All I had was my lifejacket,’ he said.
McCormack spent 80 minutes in the water before one of the Titanic’s lifeboats picked him up. He spent another three hours in the lifeboat before he and the other survivors were picked up by the rescue ship Carpathia.
‘The Titanic sank into the ocean while I watched from the lifeboat. It was a terrible sight … all those people screaming and moaning on the decks as it went under the waves …’ McCormack said.
The young McCormack was brought to New York and spent four days recuperating at St Vincent’s Hospital from exposure. Then he went to Bayonne, N.J., where he bought a tavern and operated it for fourteen years. Then he spent many years as a guard at a Bayonne factory before his retirement.
The sinking of the Titanic has always had some effect on his life. Afterward, he was afraid of sailing, and the only other ship he ever boarded was the troopship that carried him to the shores of France to fight in the First World War. McCormack had nightmares for years, and almost all of his conversations would somehow get around to the Titanic.
‘When I was running up to the deck in the confusion that night, I did not think I was going to live. Maybe if I didn’t jump into the ocean right away I would have died. I owe my life to God’s kindness, nothing else,’ McCormack said.
(New Jersey News, 15 April 1974)
He later filed a claim for his losses against the Oceanic Steam Navigation Company through Broadway solicitors Hunt, Hill & Betts:
1 blue suit – $25; 1 grey suit – £25; 1 brown suit – $25; 2 pair of cuff links – $5; shirts and underwear – $15; collars and neckties – $7; golf scarf-pin – $5; gold watch and fob – $35; 3 pairs of shoes – $15; 12 pair of socks and one sweater – $8; 1 leather bag – $12; penknives, razors and pipes – $10; 3 hats (1 soft hat, 1 derb
y and 1 cap) – $6; Money £18 Sterling (at $4.85 @ lb) – $87.30. Total – $280.30.
McCormack later married a Mary Donovan in New Jersey, who predeceased him by thirteen years. Born on 11 December 1892, Thomas died in Elizabeth, New Jersey, on 4 November 1975 aged 82. He was buried in the Holy Name Cemetery in Jersey City.
1901 census – McCormack. Glenmore, County Longford.
Parents Bernard (55), farmer, Maria (50), née McKenna.
Children John (20), Catherine (13), Thomas (8).
Agnes McCoy (29) Saved
Alice McCoy (26) Saved
Bernard McCoy (23) Saved
Joint ticket number 367226. Paid £23 5s.
Boarded at Queenstown. Third Class.
From: Carrickatane, Granard, County Longford.
Destination: 358 Madison Street West, Brooklyn, New York city.
Agnes, Alice and their brother Bernard were heading to New York to join their sister, Mrs Mary Heckel, at the above address, and to seek their fortunes.
Three Irish Survivors
Sisters’ Thrilling Story – Saved Their Brother
The Morning Leader’s New York correspondent wires –
Three steerage survivors who were at St Vincent’s Hospital were Agnes, Alice and Bernard McCoy. They said that when the first shock came to the Titanic they were asleep. They dressed and hurriedly went on deck. There was an officer there who quickly reassured them.
They returned to the steerage quarters and found men and women rushing about. They noticed stewards going through the berths, telling passengers to dress and put on lifebelts. They donned lifebelts and went on deck.
They saw a boat half-filled with members of the crew and about to be lowered away. An officer came up pointing his revolver at the men and told them to get out or he would shoot. The men climbed out slowly.
Then the officer turned to the two young women and their brother and told them to get back downstairs as there was no immediate danger. Miss Agnes said they started down but drew back when they saw the water rushing into the steerage quarters.
By the time they got back to the officer, he was directing the placing of women in the lifeboat vacated by members of the crew and the women got in. Their brother, who is younger than either of them, watched as the boat was lowered.
That was the last they saw of him until they had been in the lifeboat half an hour. Then they saw him struggling in the water. One of them grabbed for him and missed, and a sailor told her he would throw her out if she did it again.
Their brother swam towards the boat and was shoved away with an oar. The third time he came, they grabbed him. A sailor with an oar hauled their brother into the boat.
(The Cork Examiner, 27 April 1912)
Sisters save drowning brother
Another dramatic story was told by two sisters, the Misses Agnes and Alice McCoy, who saved their brother, Bernard, after the seamen at the oars fought him off as he struggled in the water when the Titanic was sinking. Between sobs, Miss Agnes McCoy recounted the harrowing experiences. She said –
‘Both my sister and I wanted to remain on shipboard when they would not allow poor Bernard to come into the lifeboat with us. He told us to go ahead, but we thought that if one was going to drown we might all go down. We were literally thrown into the lifeboat and while we fought and cried, it was lowered over the side. The boat bobbed around in the water for some time before the men got at the oars, and the first thing I knew, I saw a form whirl through the air and splash into the water near our boat.
‘When the form came up, I recognised it as Bernard. I cried to my sister, who was nearer to him than I, to help him. The poor boy took hold of the side of the boat and I staggered to his rescue. Several persons pushed me back and I saw a seaman strike Bernard’s hands with an oar. Then he tried to beat him off by striking him on the head and shoulders.
‘It was more than I could stand, and calling for Alice, I made for the seaman. With more strength than I thought I ever possessed, I threw the man to the bottom of the boat and held him there fast. Yes, maybe I did hit him once or twice, but I think I was justified under the circumstances.
‘In the meantime, Alice helped the poor boy over the side and lifted him to safety. I think everyone on board the lifeboat was highly elated and perfectly satisfied that our brother was safe with us. We need him here with us as any two sisters do.’
(New York Herald, 29 April 1912)
Fr Michael Kenny, spiritual counsellor to a number of survivors, gave an interview to the Brooklyn Eagle on 23 April 1912, in which he was evidently confused about who had rescued whom:
I also learned at the hospital that Agnes and Alice McCoy, who escaped in a lifeboat into which they were pulled by their brother Bernard, together with their brother lost their life savings, amounting to £180, leaving the sum in a pillow slip when they deserted the ship.
Report of the American Red Cross (Titanic Disaster) 1913:
No. 278. (Irish.) Two girls, 28 and 22, and their brother, 21 years old, suffered severely from shock and exposure, and lost $500 in cash besides all their effects. ($300)
Agnes McCoy later paid tribute to Fr Thomas Roussel David Byles, who stayed with the steerage passengers as the Titanic slipped to oblivion:
I saw Fr Byles when he spoke to us in the steerage; and there was a German priest with him there [Fr Josef Peruschitz]. I did not see Fr Byles again until we were told to come up and get into the boat. He was reading out of a book, and did not pay any attention. He thought, as the rest of us did, that there wasn’t really any danger.
Then I saw him put the book in his pocket and hurry around to help women into the boats. We were among the first to get away, and I didn’t see him any more …
I learn from several passengers that Fr Byles and another priest stayed with the people after the last boat had gone, and that a big crowd, a hundred maybe, knelt about him. They were Catholics, Protestants and Jewish people who were kneeling there. Fr Byles told them to prepare to meet God, and recited the Rosary. The others answered him. Fr Byles and the other priest were still standing there praying when the water came over the deck.
(Irish World, New York, 27 April 1912)
Agnes became a servant employed by wealthy New Yorkers, and in time became housemaid to Hollywood stars Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford, who were married in 1919 but divorced in 1935. One of her treasured possessions was a photograph of Fairbanks inscribed ‘to Agnes’.
Agnes never married, and died from heart failure on 14 January 1957, which some have suggested was due to shock from a break-in at her Brooklyn apartment. She was 74.
Her sister Alice was twice divorced in her later life. She then co-habited with a third man, considering herself excommunicated from the Catholic Church. She used the name Gardner from a 1962 marriage. A daughter, Colleen, survived her.
Bernard McCoy, known as Barney, developed a permanent stutter from his terrifying experiences as he struggled for survival. Like other male survivors, he was later drafted into the US army and fought in the First World War. He worked as a laundryman in New Jersey after demobilisation, never married, and died from spinal cancer in a veteran’s hospital at the end of the Second World War in July 1945.
1901 census – John McCoy, farmer (60), wife Bridget (55).
Children: Margaret (28), Patrick (23), Alice (15), Bernard (13), John (10), Luke (7).
Delia McDermott (28) Saved
Ticket number 330932. Paid £7 15s 8d.
Boarded at Queenstown. Third Class.
From: Knockfarnaught, Lahardane, County Mayo.
Destination: 404 Henrietta Street, St Louis, Missouri.
Although one of the first to find a place in a lifeboat, Delia insisted on climbing out of the early boat to insist on recovering a prized possession. She had bought a new hat in Cawley’s shop, Crossmolina, the nearest big town to her home place in a remote part of County Mayo, just before she travelled to America.
Journalist Tom Shiel told her story in Th
e Connaught Telegraph of February 1998:
Nephin Mór had been snowcapped on a number of occasions during the winter of 1912 and the people in the valleys below were longing for Spring. Even when only the boggy summit of Mayo’s highest mountain was mantled in white, the people of Addergoole parish (Lahardane), indeed the whole of Ireland, had a cold time of it.
Many times that long ago spring of 1912, Delia McDermott looked westwards from her parents’ thatched cottage at Knockfarnaught at the great majestic bulk of mountain. When the hedgerows were greening and only a few tiny stripes of snow remained on the upper reaches, Delia knew the time was fast approaching when she would be uprooted, perhaps forever, from her birthplace.
As part of her preparations for the great journey to America, she travelled one day to Crossmolina to buy new clothing. One of her purchases was a smart new hat. She liked the hat so much that weeks later she risked her life to recover it from her cabin in the ill-fated Titanic.
Delia was one of 14 people from Addergoole preparing in spring 1912 to travel on the White Star liner. Only three of the group survived. Delia, despite dicing with death on the double in order to retrieve her cherished millinery, was one of the lucky ones.
There was great activity in Addergoole as sailing time approached. Those not travelling were out and about on the land and in the bog, or perhaps taking the odd trip to Castlebar where the women sold eggs and the men purchased grain and farm implements.
Thoughts of turf-cutting and harvesting were far from the minds of those who were about to emigrate as they travelled by pony and trap over the steep Windy Gap and then at a smart gallop into Castlebar. By the time the scythes had felled the first grass of that year’s hay harvest, they planned to be carving out new lives in Chicago or other bustling industrial cities in the industrial United States.
In March, ten of the intending passengers, including Delia McDermott, then 28 years old, booked their passage with Thomas Durcan of Castlebar. Three others booked with another travel agent, Mrs Walsh of Linenhall Street.
The days before they were due to travel for Queenstown were extremely busy ones for the Addergoole contingent. They visited neighbours most would never see again and there were tearful embraces on the doorstep of many a thatched cottage.