Chapter Thirteen
“I’M ALSO WONDERING ABOUT THAT”
The collision of the Andrea Doria and Stockholm was one of those great news events which people mark in their lifetime by remembering what they were doing when they first heard of it. In the maritime section of Lloyd’s of London, the venerable insurance firm whose corporate life is tied to shipping, men worked silently through the day fervently hoping that the traditional office bell would not toll the death of the Andrea Doria. When in the late afternoon, the bell did toll its knell as it has sounded the sinking of ships for hundreds of years, the men of Lloyd’s of London noted with awe the passing of a great modern ocean liner. The sinking of the Andrea Doria was voted by American newspaper editors high among the ten most important news stories of 1956, in the company of the bloody Hungarian revolt against Communist rule and the re-election of President Dwight D. Eisenhower as President of the United States. A picture of the sinking won the Pulitzer Prize as the best news photograph of the year. Press coverage was overwhelming from start to finish. The first news reports of the collision had been flashed around the world even before the passengers of the Andrea Doria learned what had happened.
How it had happened, however, was another matter. Attorneys for the Swedish and Italian lines took charge once the crews reached New York. While the lawyers themselves worked to discover the cause of the disaster, they gave the officers and crews of each ship the age-old legal advice: Anything you say may be held against you; therefore, say nothing.
Even before the surviving Stockholm reached New York, the Italian Line suggested to the Swedish-American Line that the case be settled immediately, out of court, so as to avoid any “washing of dirty linen in public.” The lawyers knew that a public trial would lay bare the sins and secrets of the entire maritime industry and that no steamship company could help but be hurt by the publicity. But the Italian Line price tag—to share equally the losses without affixing blame for the disaster—was too high. It would cost the Swedish-American Line $15,000,000 to pay half the value of the lost Andrea Doria, not counting passenger, baggage and freight claims. The offer to settle out of court was rejected.
A gentleman’s agreement to avoid public counterincriminations against one another could not be kept because of the barrage of press demands. Captain Calamai arrived in Brooklyn on the Allen late Thursday night, his nerves shattered and his body fatigued from his ordeal, and was forced to read a prepared statement twice to satisfy the press. Captain Nordenson, arriving the next day on the Stockholm, granted a press conference aboard his ship. The serious charges of neglect voiced by Doria passengers forced Giussepe Ali, the manager of the Italian Line, and Captain Calamai to call a press conference to defend the crew of the Andrea Doria. But throughout this unavoidable publicity, and despite the demands of the press and public for information, neither captain would say a word on how the collision had occurred.
This vacuum was soon filled by speculation and rumor. The first reaction to the collision was incredulity. As one morning newspaper reported, “Experts on radar said today they could not explain how the collision between the Andrea Doria and Stockholm could have taken place because both vessels were equipped with radar.” It was explained to a public whose curiosity had been aroused that radar permits men of the sea to see through fog for distances up to forty or fifty miles, hence ample time to avoid collisions.
But this initial theory—or lack of theory—soon gave way to more dire hypotheses: some captains never use their radar sets in fog; some sail with broken radar sets, some men suffer a sort of “radar hypnosis” by staring into the small screens; one so-called “expert” said radar beams bounce off thick fog banks and are reflected like a mirror; one meteorologist reported a sunspot cluster 100,000 miles in diameter that night which he suggested might have deflected the radar beams of the two ships.
In fact, in the first weeks that followed the collision, it is highly unlikely that either the Swedish or Italian Lines, their lawyers or the captain and crews of both ships knew precisely how and why the collision occurred. The captain and crew members could report only what they knew and that was only one side of the story. If someone with perfect eyesight and memory or with a telescopic camera had hovered overhead in a helicopter during the half hour that the two ships approached one another, an explanation would have been a simple and clear matter. Lacking that, the admiralty lawyers could attempt only to reconstruct the disaster in court with the exchanging of documentary evidence and testimony, much in the manner of detectives seeking out and correctly interpreting clues.
Court action was swift. The Italian Line filed suit against the Swedish Line for $25,000,000, which was later raised to $30,000,000, for the loss of the Andrea Doria. The Italian Line said in effect that it was blameless: the two ships were on a parallel and opposite course and would have passed safely starboard-to-starboard, or right side to right side, if the Stockholm had not turned to her right and crashed into the Andrea Doria; the Doria, a fully seaworthy ship manned by an experienced and Licensed crew, sank as a result of the collision; hence, the Italian Line wanted $30,000,000, the full value of its luxury ship.
The Swedish Line sued the Italian Line for $2,000,000, half to cover the repairs for a new bow for the Stockholm and the other half to cover the loss of business during the repairs. The Swedish Line said the two ships would have passed safely port-to-port, or left side to left side, if the Doria had not caused the collision by making an illegal left turn and crossing the Stockholm’s bow. Further, the Swedish Line claimed, no matter which ship caused the collision, the Doria sank not because of the collision but because the ship was not seaworthy and/or was not manned by a competent crew.
Each line, claiming innocence, filed for exoneration from liability and, if that were denied, limitation of liability. They agreed only to the principle of consolidating their suits and those of all passengers and shippers of cargo into one court action in the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York. Of almost equal importance with their plea of complete innocence were the applications of both lines to limit the extent of their liability if found guilty. Maritime law, recognizing the inherent risk of setting a ship upon the sea, differentiates among three basic causes for all ship disasters.
An “act of God” such as a stroke of lightning or violent storm can sink a seaworthy ship, for which no man can be held responsible. Secondly, negligence of the crew beyond the knowledge or power of the shipowners can cause the loss of a ship, in which case the shipowners cannot be held liable for damages beyond the value of the ship plus pending freight charges at the end of that voyage. Otherwise a shipowner would be forced to risk his full fleet upon the vicissitudes of a single ship. Thirdly, however, the law holds a shipowner or company fully responsible for damages if a ship is lost because it is unseaworthy or if the owner knowingly allows his ship to be handled in a negligent or illegal manner.
Since neither the Italians nor the Swedes could claim an “act of God” caused the collision, both did petition for the right to limit their liability. The Swedish Line put up a fund of $4,000,000 representing the appraised value of the Stockholm at the end of that voyage, which was $5,000,000 minus her $1,000,000 bow which had been shorn off in the collision.
The Italian Line stated simply that the Andrea Doria at the end of her voyage was worth nothing. However, it posted a fund of $1,800,000 to pay death and personal injury claims of her passengers. This passenger fund of $60-a-ton had been written into international law after the families of the 134 persons killed in the burning of the Morro Castle in 1934 found themselves without recourse to collect damages.
With speed uncommon for the modern wheels of justice, the parties found themselves in court, ready to go, on September 19, less than two months after the collision. Carstens-Johannsen, sitting next to Captain Nordenson on the starboard side of the courtroom in the second row of crowded spectator benches, was to be the first witness. Attired in a new, shiny blue unifor
m, he looked like a young adolescent who wanted to bite his fingernails but did not dare. On the port side of the large, wood-paneled Room 1506 of the federal court sat Captain Calamai, his emotions masked in a funereal expression which he did not alter for the stares of those who recognized him.
This, in terms of law, was a “discovery” proceeding before trial. It was based upon the legal theory that, despite all fictitious trials to the contrary, a court trial is not a battle of wits and surprises by opposing counsel but rather an effort to arrive at truth and justice. Thus each side was permitted before trial to inspect all pertinent documentary evidence of the opposing side and to question under oath all opposing witnesses who might not be available for the actual trial. Practically, it allowed opposing sides in a civil litigation to discover enough information to convince each other to settle their controversy out of court.
The “discovery” proceeding for the Andrea Doria—Stockholm collision developed, however, all the fanfare of a full-fledged trial. More than forty newspaper, magazine and television reporters crowded the first row of benches. Approximately sixty attorneys jammed into the forward half of the large courtroom to represent the two ship lines and the 1,200 passengers and cargo shippers who were suing both lines for damages which eventually totaled more than $116,000,000. Lawrence E. Walsh, the federal court judge assigned to the case, appointed and swore in four eminent attorneys to preside alternately as special masters at the pre-trial hearings. They were Simond H. Rifkind, a former federal judge who left the bench to return to private law practice; Louis M. Loeb, president of the Bar Association of the City of New York; Benjamin A. Matthews, president of the New York County Lawyers Association, and Mark W. MacLay, a specialist in admiralty law who had often served as a special court referee.
The special masters were not vested with the full authority of the court. Their rulings were not binding and could be (and were) appealed to Judge Walsh. The job of the special masters was to maintain order at the hearings and to compile a record of the pertinent facts as to how and why the collision occurred. This in itself was a major task in that so many lawyers were at cross purposes in the courtroom, each with an equal right to cross-examine the witnesses and to object to questions of the other attorneys.
While the two ship lines were in effect pleading not guilty or, if guilty, only to the extent of the value of the ships involved in the collision, attorneys for the passengers sought to prove two things. One, that both ships were to blame for the collision, and two, that they were operated negligently with the prior knowledge of the owners, hence fully liable and not entitled to any limitation of liability. The passengers, being innocent parties to the collision, were suing both ships for damages. If both ships were found guilty, there would be that much more money for the passengers to collect in death, personal injury and baggage claims.
Despite the many lawyers involved, the case became a courtroom battle between the two attorneys for the Italian and Swedish companies who, of course, had most at stake. Both attorneys had top reputations earned through more than thirty years’ experience. Yet each was as different in personality and approach as two maritime attorneys could be. Charles S. Haight, who represented the Swedish Line, was a tall, soft-spoken, controlled man of impeccable manners whose dogged persistence in research and thorough questioning of witnesses was matched only by his extreme politeness in the courtroom. Representing the Italian Line, Eugene Underwood was a stocky, forceful lawyer whose rapid-fire cross-examination was often punctuated by a rapier wit. Both lawyers were accomplished experts in admiralty law and courtroom tactics and neither let pass without a fight the slightest nuance which might entrap his witness or reflect unfavorably upon his client. The hearing as a result was replete with objections and counter-objections and protracted legal arguments.
In accordance with the arrangements made with Judge Walsh, the first witness of the hearing was Carstens-Johannsen. Perched erectly in the solitary witness box beneath the raised judge’s bench and facing the long and wide courtroom filled with lawyers, the press and spectators, the young officer looked to be as nervous and unsure of himself as would a longshoreman in the House of Lords.
Haight, standing at the left end of the first long table in front of the judge’s bench, led the Stockholm officer as gently and swiftly as possible over the pertinent events leading up to the collision. This direct testimony put the events in chronological order and that is about all. This was, after all, a “discovery” proceeding and the Swedish Line attorney, having reviewed the case with the officer for weeks before the trial, had nothing he wished to “discover.”
Carstens testified to his schooling, training and experience before signing aboard the Stockholm on Whitsunday, the 19th of May, 1956. On the night of the collision, July 25, he had come on watch at 8:30 P.M., the sky was overcast and hazy, visibility was five to six miles, the wind was slight from the southwest. At 9:40 P.M., the captain ordered a change of course from 90° to 87° true.
At 10:04, 10:30 and about 11 P.M., he took radio direction finder bearings to fix the position of the Stockholm and found her slightly to the north of the course line set by his captain. On the latter two occasions, he turned the ship southward two degrees to compensate for the northerly currents and tides. At “about 11 P.M.” he looked into his radar and saw a pip of a ship twelve miles away bearing slightly to the left. He waited until the ship was ten miles away and then he plotted the pip as being two degrees to the left. At six miles distance, he plotted the ship four degrees to the left. Then he connected the two marks with a straight ruled line and estimated the two ships would pass each other left-to-left at a distance of between a half mile to a full mile apart.
Aware of his captain’s standing orders never to allow a ship to come within one mile of the Stockholm, he waited until he could see the lights of the ship before taking any action. He followed the course of the other ship on radar until he first saw her masthead lights 1.8 to 1.9 miles ahead of him, bearing 20° to his left. He ordered a turn to starboard to widen the passing distance, which was two points on the mariner’s compass, or about 22°. He went inside the wheelhouse to answer a telephone call, in which his crow’s-nest lookout reported the lights. When he returned to the wing of the bridge, the other ship had cut across his bow. Seeing that the ships were about to collide, he ordered a hard starboard rudder and put the engine telegraph on FULL SPEED ASTERN for both engines. He felt the ship vibrate as at least one engine went astern. Prior to this he had heard no signal from the other ship, but just before the collision he did hear something from afar which he could not distinguish because of the noise around him. And then came the collision.…
Haight concluded his direct examination, saying “Thank you, Mr. Carstens-Johannsen. That is all the questions I have.”
The young officer pushed himself up from the witness chair and had slipped halfway out of the witness box when Special Master Rifkind, presiding the first day, commanded, “Stay where you are!”
Carstens sank back into the chair, little realizing then that he would be undergoing two full weeks of cross-examination by other, less friendly, lawyers.
Eugene Underwood, with years of courtroom experience and technique behind him, stood behind the second table in the front of the courtroom, and stared at the young witness for a moment protracted in the silence of the courtroom. Carstens fidgeted but he managed to meet the stare of the man facing him. The Italian Line attorney, wasting no time on preliminaries, launched his cross-examination with an attack.
“Is it correct that you did not sound any whistle signal before the collision?”
“Yes,” replied the witness in an even voice.
“No fog signal?”
“No.”
“No passing signal?”
“No.”
“No signal to indicate a change of course?”
“No.”
“When you went to nautical school, did they teach you the Rules of the Road?” The sarcasm hung in the air as
the Swedish interpreter translated the question for the young third officer. Carstens was testifying in Swedish, except when he became excited and blurted an answer in English.
“Yes,” he replied.
The Italian Line attorney, poised with the thumb of one hand hooked in his trousers’ belt behind his back, quizzed the Swedish officer on the Rules of the Road and what he had been taught at nautical school.
But Carstens no doubt had been prepared for his appearance in court. He explained that he knew that Rule 28 called for a one-blast signal to indicate a turn to starboard. But that was only true when a risk of collision existed, he said. When he turned the Stockholm starboard, or to the right, it was only to widen an already safe passing distance from the Doria which was off to his left. There was no danger of collision and hence no need for a whistle signal.
The following day, Underwood quizzed the third officer on his duties and instructions as a watch officer on the Stockholm. Under the prodding of the attorney, Carstens ticked them off one by one.…
Collision Course Page 21