One Family's Story

Dozens of families with third class tickets boarded Titanic at Southampton, Cherbourg, and Queenstown, with the hope of making a new start in America. Instead, some went to their graves, with every family member being lost in the sinking. For those that survived, many lost family members. Only a handful of third class families reached New York Harbor intact.Frank Goldsmith, 33, worked as a machinist in Strood, England. He and his wife, Emily, had one son, nine-year-old Frankie. They’d lost a younger son, Bertie, to diphtheria in 1911, and Emily’s father encouraged the family to come to Detroit, where he had emigrated, for a new start. All the publicity about Titanic and her comfortable third class accommodations won Frank over, and the decision was made. Frank’s coworkers in Strood gave him a new set of tools as a parting gift, Emily packed her Singer sewing machine, and Frankie dropped his new cap pistol into their packing case.

Frank and Emily Goldsmith with Frankie and Bertie in 1907

In Detroit, an English neighbor of Emily’s father arranged for his younger brother, Alfred Rush, to travel with the Goldsmiths. Alfred would turn 16 during the voyage. Another friend from Strood, 34-year-old Thomas Theobald, also traveled with them.

Frankie couldn’t wait for his big adventure ahead. His mother bought a seasickness remedy called Gibson’s Fruit Tablets, and Frankie ate them like candy on board Titanic, even though he didn’t feel the least bit seasick. He was thrilled to learn they would stop in Cherbourg and Queenstown before heading to America.

Frankie with his mother

Frankie recalled, “Not only were we going to America, we were going to another land, France! Then bonus wise, we would also be going to Ireland next, two fairy-tale places that tripled the joy in the eyes of a nine-year-old boy.” As Titanic left Queenstown on their second day at sea, Frankie said, “Mummy! At last we’re on the ‘lantic!” He soon made friends with several other English-speaking boys in third class. They climbed the baggage cranes and sneaked into the lower decks to watch the stokers at work.

When the Titanic struck the iceberg, Frank Goldsmith managed to quickly usher his family, Alfred, and Thomas to the lifeboats. Emily and Frankie were put into Collapsible C. Frank told his son, “See you later, Frankie,” and stepped away to allow women and children to board. Alfred had celebrated his birthday and proudly wore his first pair of long pants. He was small for his age, according to Frankie, and may have passed for a child and been allowed to board. But Alfred declared, “I’m staying here with the men!” Thomas gave his wedding ring to Emily, asking her to send it to his wife back in England.

Frank Goldsmith, Alfred, and Thomas did not survive. Only Thomas’ body was recovered.

Emily Goldsmith and Frankie made their way to Detroit with the help of the Salvation Army. For a long time, Frankie hoped his father would somehow walk through their door, until he gradually accepted the fact that his father had perished in the disaster.

He and his mother moved to a home near Detroit's Navin Field, which later became Tiger Stadium. For years, whenever the Detroit Tigers scored a home run, the roar of the crowd reminded Frankie of the screams from the dying passengers in the water as the Titanic sank. He married and had three sons, but never took his children to baseball games for that reason. He later moved to Ohio and in 1981, wrote Echoes in the Night: Memories of a Titanic Survivor. It became the only book written by a third class passenger about the sinking.

Frank Goldsmith in 1980

Frankie Goldsmith died in 1982 at age 79. That April 15^th, the 70th anniversary of the sinking, his ashes were scattered over the area where Titanic rests, and where he lost saw his father. Today, the Goldsmith family continues to share the story with Titanic enthusiasts around the US and the world.

What the Doctor Saw

Dr. Washington Dodge boarded the Titanic in Southampton with his wife and five-year-old son, following a short European vacation. They were on their way home to San Francisco, where Dr. Dodge had been elected to his fourth term as city assessor following a successful career as a physician.

Dr. Washington Dodge 

Following Titanic’s collision with the iceberg, Mrs. Dodge and her son were helped into Lifeboat 5. Dr. Dodge managed to find a seat in Lifeboat 13. Twelve-year-old Ruth Becker was put into the same boat, after she was separated from her family. In my novel, Ruth learns Dr. Dodge’s name as they await rescue.

Mrs. Dodge and son Washington Jr.

He is quoted in the San Francisco Bulletin later that week, after his return home.“I watched the lowering of the boat in which my wife and child were until it was safely launched…and I remained on the starboard side where the boats with the odd numbers from one to fifteen were being prepared…I waited until what I thought was the end. I certainly saw no sign of women or children on deck when I was told to take a seat in boat No. 13.”

Dr. Dodge's account of the sinking, written aboard the Carpathia

He described a gushing stream of water from Titanic’s condenser that sent Boat 13 into the path of Boat 15 as it was lowered. He then told what happened after the lifeboat was finally rowed away from the ship.

“We saw the sinking of the vessel. The lights continued burning all along its starboard side until the moment of its downward plunge. After that a series of terrific explosions occurred, I suppose either from the boilers or the weakened bulkheads."

Dodge voiced his opinion of the lifeboats. "Only one of the boats had a lantern...If a sea had been running I do not see how many of the small boats would have lived. For instance, on my boat there were neither one officer or a seaman. The only men at the oars were stewards who could no more row than I could serve a dinner."

Aboard the Carpathia, Dr. Dodge was reunited with his family. Back in San Francisco, he gave interviews and spoke about his Titanic experience to several local newspapers, citing what he considered to be the many reasons why so many lives were lost. He claimed he’d seen at least one officer fire shots at male passengers from third class as they attempted to board the last boats. Other survivors gave similar stories, although they were inconsistent and none could be proven.

San Francisco Bulletin column, April 19, 1912

Seven years later, Dr. Dodge was involved in a lawsuit and was distraught over the defamation of his character, according to close friends. He shot himself at his home and died a week later at the age of 60.

Everything she owned

After running a nursing home in England for 20 years, Lucy Ridsdale looked forward to moving to her sister’s house in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with a stop in Marietta, Georgia to see another sister. She packed everything she owned, including several family heirlooms and other items that had been gifts from friends, paid all the necessary excess baggage fees, and sent everything to be loaded aboard the Titanic for her journey to America.

Replica of Titanic cargo hold

Single at 58, Lucy occupied a second class cabin with 28-year-old Mary Davis, who was emigrating to New York where her siblings lived. Lucy had a club foot, and on the night of the sinking, Mary helped Lucy to the Boat Deck where they boarded Lifeboat 13.

In my pre-published novel, the main character, passenger Ruth Becker, meets Lucy in the lifeboat after it moves away from the sinking ship. As Lifeboat 13 was lowered to the ocean’s surface, a heavy stream from a condenser sprayed the boat and pushed it ahead, right underneath another lifeboat as it descended. The frightened passengers could almost reach up and touch the other boat, until someone cut Boat 13’s ropes, still attached to the davits up on deck. Finally free of Titanic, the boat's 64 occupants rowed about until morning. Passengers agreed if the sea had not been calm, many of the lifeboats could not have made it through the night.

After rescue, Lucy was first listed among the missing, until she sent a telegram to her sister in Marietta. Not long after the disaster, she made a detailed claim for her belongings, for a total value of $3,146.00. She had saved a claim ticket given to her as she boarded, which she presented with other documents. Today, these original records are housed in the U.S. National Archives in Washington D.C. Here is a part of her list of lost items:

She states in a letter to the White Star Line, “This list includes household and personal effects which the two ladies I am inclosing addresses from England know I possessed...This lady has known me for 20 years and can testify as to my having had a nursing home of my own at Harrogate, Yorkshire, England. I brought everything expecting to make my home here with my sisters in Marietta and Milwaukee…”

The White Star Line made every effort to pay passengers who filed claims for loss of property, although there is no record if Lucy herself received anything. She is listed as residing at a Chicago hotel in the 1920 census, and a resident in an Old People’s Home in 1930. Lucy Ridsdale died at age 91 in Chicago.

Photo credits: National Archives and Howard Digital

Titanic's hardworking steward

When John Hardy signed on as Titanic’s Chief Second Class Steward, he brought with him fourteen years’ experience at sea. In my yet-to-be-published novel, Ruth Becker meets Hardy just after Titanic has departed Southampton, and is thrilled to learn he has a pram for her to push her little brother on deck.

John Hardy

Hardy had worked for the White Star Line for twelve years, serving aboard four ships. In between his duties, he’d married his landlady’s daughter, Etta, in Liverpool, and had two children, Ronald in 1903 and Norah in 1905. The family moved to Southampton, and were living there at the time of Titanic’s sailing in 1912.

John, 36, was already on board as Titanic made her way from the Harland and Wollf shipyards in Belfast on April 2^nd, arriving in Southampton on April 4^th. The next day, Good Friday, the ship was decorated with colorful flags and pennants as a salute to Southampton. But before she could begin her maiden voyage on April 10^th, most of the crew would be hired, thousands of tons of coal would be loaded, and supplies for the voyage would be brought aboard, including enough food for a small city. Also, any cargo, including crates of goods purchased abroad by American customers, was loaded into the cargo hold.

John Hardy was responsible for overseeing 162 second class cabins. On the night of the sinking, he turned off all unnecessary lights in the second class areas, went to bed around 11:30 pm, then felt a slight shock. Checking the passageway, he found nothing amiss and returned to bed. Then the Chief First Class Steward woke him with the news of what happened. John proceeded to rouse the stewardesses and assist passengers to the lifeboats. He worked on deck until the last lifeboat was launched, followed by the collapsible boats. He managed to board the last one, carrying 25 passengers, just 15 minutes before the ship sank. Later, they tied the boat up together with six other boats and took on ten more passengers.

Example of a collapsible lifeboat with its sides folded away

Titanic crewmembers following rescue

John Hardy continued to work for the White Star Line, then aboard hospital ships and troop transports during the First World War. Twins were born to John and Etta in 1919, and the family moved to New Jersey, where John continued for twenty years as Chief Steward for various ships in the United States Line.

John Hardy died at his son’s home at the age of 82.

Photo credits: Encyclopedia Titanica and New York Times

The Publisher and the Pekinese

Beginning this week, I wish to to introduce you to some of the real Titanic passengers and crewmembers who have a role in my pre-published novel, which is based on the true story of 12-year-old passenger Ruth Becker. (Some of the real-life characters in the novel have already been featured on the blog, such as Captain Edward Smith, passenger John Jacob Astor, and orchestra leader Wallace Hartley.) We’ll start with a man Ruth meets on her first venture onto Titanic’s Promenade Deck, as he struggles to hold a very wiggly Pekinese...

Henry Sleeper Harper was the director of Harper and Brothers Publishing House, which his grandfather had founded in the 1800s but was not formally dedicated to publishing until 1900. The firm published several magazines, including Harper’s Weekly and Harper’s Bazaar. Henry also served on the board for the protection of the Adirondacks, and was instrumental in preventing logging of the area.

Forty-eight-year-old Henry and his wife, Myra, boarded the Titanic at Cherbourg, France, along with their Egyptian interpreter and guide, Hammad. The Harpers had been in Paris, where their Pekinese dog, Sun Yat Sen, had won a top prize at a dog show.

Sun Yat Sen

On the night of the sinking, the couple were finishing a late dinner when they were told to return to their cabin for warm clothes and lifebelts and report to the Boat Deck. They headed for the starboard side and boarded Lifeboat 3, along with Hammad and Sun Yat Sen. All were rescued by the Carpathia. Sun Yat Sen was one of three dogs that survived the sinking of the Titanic. In regard to being allowed to board the lifeboat with a dog, Harper replied later, “There seemed to be plenty of room at the time and no one offered any objection.”

Mrs. Henry Harper with Sun Yat Sen

The Harpers did not have children, and Myra died in 1923. Henry married Anne Hopson and had a son, also named Henry. Henry Sleeper Harper died at the age of 79 after a lengthy illness. He is buried in New York City, along with Myra and Anne.

In the 1990s, the company merged with William Collins & Sons of Great Britain to form HarperCollins.

photo credits: Encyclopedia Titanica

The Owner Who Saved Himself

When the Titanic sank in 1912, most of the blame for the disaster centered on White Star Line’s chairman and managing director, J. Bruce Ismay. After all, it was his ship that caused more than 1500 deaths on its maiden voyage. And the fact that Ismay jumped in a lifeboat and survived added to the worldwide attention and controversy.

Joseph Bruce Ismay was born in Liverpool in 1862, the son of Thomas Ismay, senior partner of Ismay, Imrie and company and founder of the White Star Line. Bruce was made a partner in the firm at age 29, then promoted to head the business when his father died in 1899. In 1901, Ismay agreed to a merger with American shipping companies led by J. Pierpont Morgan. The White Star Line then became part of the International Mercantile Marine Company.

In 1907, Ismay and Lord Pirrie, partner at Belfast shipbuilding company Harland and Wolff, agreed to construct a series of luxurious ocean liners that would outshine Cunard’s new Lusitania and Mauritania. The new WSL ships would carry more third class immigrants to America and offer the very best in accommodations to the wealthy.

As he did on many of the maiden voyages for White Star Line’s ships, Bruce Ismay boarded Titanic as she left Southampton on April 10, 1912. Following the collision with the iceberg, some claimed Ismay assisted with the evacuation of women and children to the lifeboats. Following rescue, Ismay testified at both the US and British inquiries that when he boarded the lifeboat known as Collapsible C, all other boats had left Titanic’s starboard side and no women and children were present.

From the lifeboat, Ismay was so overcome with emotion that he was unable to look as the Titanic sank. Onboard the Carpathia, he was given a private cabin and had to be sedated. Visitors found him in shock and mostly unresponsive for a good part of the trip to New York.

Despite his testimony at the inquiries, hostile newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic labeled Ismay a coward for not remaining on the Titanic as she sank. His reputation never recovered, and he retired from the White Star Line in 1913. Every movie about the disaster depicts Ismay as a villain, regardless of the lack of evidence against him.

In Ismay and the Titanic, author Paul Louden-Brown writes, ‘Hundreds of thousands of pounds were paid out in insurance claims to the relatives of the Titanic's victims; the misery created by the disaster and its aftermath dealt with by Ismay and his directors with great fortitude, this, despite the fact that he could easily have shirked his responsibilities and resigned from the board.'

Bruce Ismay died at the age of 74 after a long battle with diabetes. He is buried in the family grave in London.

Photo credits: rarenewspapers.com, ssqq.com

Friend of the President

Major Archibald Butt was a respected military aide to President Theodore Roosevelt in 1908. When President Taft took office in 1909, Butt remained as presidential advisor. In early 1912, he took a long-awaited vacation to Europe with writer and artist Francis Millet and visited with Pope Pius X. For their return trip to Washington D.C., Butt and Millet booked first class cabins aboard the Titanic.

On the night of April 14, Major Butt attended a private dinner party in Titanic’s ala carte restaurant. Captain Smith and railroad executive John Thayer were also at the party. Afterwards, Butt went to the first class smoking room to play cards. When the ship struck the iceberg, a few survivors claimed he helped passengers board the lifeboats and aided in the evacuation in other ways. Others claimed he returned to the smoking room. Yet others, including Walter Lord, author of A Night to Remember, stated Major Butt may have assisted but most likely watched the proceedings quietly. His body was not recovered.

A memorial service took place a few weeks later, with 1500 mourners attending. President Taft delivered the eulogy:

“If Archie could have selected a time to die he would have chosen the one God gave him. His life was spent in self–sacrifice, serving others. His forgetfulness of self had become a part of his nature. Everybody who knew him called him Archie. I couldn't prepare anything in advance to say here. I tried, but couldn't. He was too near me. He was loyal to my predecessor, Mr. Roosevelt, who selected him to be military aide, and to me he had become as a son or a brother.”

Another service was held in Major Butt’s honor in Washington D.C. Again, President Taft spoke, but was unable to finish when he broke down and wept.

President William Howard Taft and Major Archibald Butt

A fountain near the White House is dedicated to Archibald Butt and Francis Merritt. Other memorials to Archibald Butt include an empty tomb at Arlington National Cemetery.

Butt-Merritt Memorial Fountain, Washington DC

photo credits: Encyclopedia Titanica, Maritimequest.com.

Dressed in His Best

Philadelphia-born Benjamin Guggenheim inherited a fortune from the mining and smelting businesses his father founded after emigrating from Switzerland in 1847. The fifth in a family of eleven, Benjamin (sometimes called the “Silver Prince”) married and had three daughters. Over 1000 guests attended his New York wedding, which the New York Times reported as “one of the handsomest weddings of the season.”

Active in the various family businesses, Guggenheim became president of the International Steam Pump Company in 1909. Business reasons frequently took him away from his townhouse near New York’s Central Park, and he and his wife grew apart. Eventually, he kept an apartment in Paris, and a mistress, French singer Leontine Aubart.

Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Guggenheim

Guggenheim had originally booked passage on the Lusitania for a return trip to New York, but that voyage was cancelled due to the Lusitania’s need for repairs. So, on April 10, 1912, Guggenheim, 46, boarded the Titanic for her maiden voyage, along with his valet, his chauffeur, Miss Aubart, and her maid.

Leontine Aubart

When the Titanic collided with the iceberg, Guggenheim and his valet, Victor Giglio, were asleep in the cabin they shared. Concerned, Miss Aubart and her maid went to wake them. A steward urged the men to don their lifebelts and accompany the women to the lifeboats. But the men soon returned to their cabin and changed into formal evening wear. Back on deck, Guggenheim was reported to have stated, “We’re dressed in our best and are prepared to go down like gentlemen.” He wrote the following message: “If anything should happen to me, tell my wife I’ve done my best in doing my duty.” He and Giglio were last seen sitting in deck chairs sipping brandy and smoking cigars.

Neither of their bodies were recovered. Guggenheim’s chauffeur also perished. Miss Aubart and her maid were put into Lifeboat 9 and were rescued by the Carpathia. Guggenheim left one-third of his fortune to his wife, and two-thirds to his three daughters.

Former home of Benjamin Guggenheim on 72nd Street, New York City

A newspaper quoted Miss Aubart as saying, “I had in my cabin jewels worth 4,000 (GPB) as well as many trunks of dresses and hats. One does not come from Paris and buy one's clothes in America. That is understood, is it not? Nothing could I take with me; nothing at all. Just as we were, in our night clothes, Marie and I went on deck where the lifebelts were put around us. On the deck there was no commotion; none at all. Oh these English! How brave, how calm, how beautiful! I, who am patriotic French woman say that never can I forget that group of Englishmen- every one of them a perfect gentleman- calmly puffing cigarettes and cigars and watching the women and children being placed in the boats.”

Today, Guggenheim Partners continues the family business history. The popular Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York City, known simply as The Guggenheim, is part of the Guggenheim Foundation’s extensive interests.

Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum

A Christmas Blessing

I wish to thank all my wonderful blog readers who have been so encouraging to me this year through your comments, questions, sharing posts, becoming loyal followers, or simply stumbling onto the blog and reading it on a whim. You're from every corner of the globe, and you're the reason I keep writing! There's more to come about the Titanic in 2016, and I may be able to share some good news about my novel. Until then, here's my wish for each of you this Christmas and all year long.

His Last Act

Reverend John Harper of Glasgow, Scotland had spent three months during 1910 helping conduct revival services at The Moody Church in Chicago. He then returned to London, where he served as pastor at Walworth Road Baptist Church, and to his six-year-old daughter, Nan. His wife had died shortly after Nan’s birth, and the couple had no other children. But the response in Chicago to Reverend Harper’s preaching had been overwhelming, and The Moody Church asked him to return for three months. This time, he took Nan and his sister, Jessie Leitch, and together they boarded the Titanic.

John Harper with his daughter Nan and sister Jessie Leitch

When the ship struck the iceberg, Reverend Harper made certain his sister and daughter were put into a lifeboat. According to survivors, he spent the rest of his time on the ship sharing the Gospel with whoever would listen and urging them to commit their lives to the Lord.

The following testimony comes from Encyclopedia Titanica:

“Four years after the Titanic went down, a young Scotchman rose in a meeting in Hamilton, Canada, and said, "I am a survivor of the Titanic. When I was drifting alone on a spar that awful night, the tide brought Mr. John Harper, of Glasgow, also on a piece of wreck near me. 'Man,' he said, 'are you saved?' 'No,' I said. 'I am not.' He replied, 'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.'" "The waves bore him away; but, strange to say brought him back a little later, and he said, 'Are you saved now?' 'No,' I said, 'I cannot honestly say that I am.' He said again, 'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved,' and shortly after he went down; and there, alone in the night, and with two miles of water under me, I believed. I am John Harper's last convert."”

When Nan Harper and Jessie Leitch were rescued by the Carpathia, they learned of Reverend Harper’s death. A representative from The Moody Church met them in New York and provided clothing and money to allow them to return to Glasgow. Reverend Harper’s body was not recovered.

His faith was passed on to the next generation. Nan Harper grew up and married a pastor. Their daughter and grandchildren were present at the commemoration of the 100^th anniversary of Titanic’s sinking in 2012 at Harper Memorial Baptist Church in Glasgow.

A room at The Moody Church is named Harper Hall. Moody’s Dr. Erwin W. Lutzer writes, “We might wonder if it had been better if Harper had lived to preach at The Moody Church and other venues rather than be among those who perished on the Titanic. But God knows best. A hundred years after his death, we are still benefitting from the lasting effects of those final moments before he sank into the ocean. He left an example for tens of thousands of us who would never have heard of him if he had survived. God sees the big picture; we see but a small slice of time.”

Titanic's Last Photographer

Bishop Robert Browne surprised his nephew, Father Francis Browne, with a ticket on the Titanic, but only as far as Queenstown, her last stop before she would head for New York City. Father Browne brought along his new camera, also a gift from his uncle, to record his journey in photographs. When he met a couple traveling in first class who offered to pay his way to New York, he sent a telegram to his superiors to ask permission. The reply read, “Get off that ship!”

Francis Browne’s mother had died when he was less than one year old, and his father died when Francis was in his teens. His uncle, Bishop Browne, became his guardian, and at age 17, Francis began his training to become a Jesuit priest and attend Royal University in Dublin. He later taught college classes and continued his theological training up until 1912, when he received the Titanic ticket from his uncle, who had won a small amount of money in a libel award.

On board the Titanic, 32-year-old Father Browne photographed everything, from his stateroom to various activities on deck. He spent one night aboard, then disembarked in Queenstown the next day when he was refused permission to continue the journey. The order to leave the ship saved his life, as well as the many photos he took. They were the only photographs taken onboard the ship that have survived.

Crew aboard Titanic, posing in life vests

The last photograph of Titanic as she leaves Queenstown for New York

Three years after his Titanic voyage, Father Browne was ordained and joined the Irish Guards as chaplain. He became the most decorated chaplain in World War One, and continued to use his camera to tell the stories of his travels during the war years and beyond. He is recognized as Ireland’s greatest photographer from the first half of the 20^th century. Father Browne died at the age of 79. For more information, visit www.Fatherbrowne.com.

(photo credits: Fatherbrowne.com and Encyclopedia Titanica)

The Royal Mail Ship

Titanic’s full title was RMS Titanic, standing for Royal Mail Ship. The RMS designation, which dates back to 1840, is given to any seagoing vessel that carries mail under contract for the Royal Mail, the British postal service. Several shipping lines carried mail in the past, including the Cunard Line, Royal Mail Line, and White Star Line, owner of the Titanic. The title was seen as a mark of quality, because the mail had to be on time. Contracts included a penalty clause for even a minute delay. Today, overseas mail is usually handled by airliners. However, four ships still carry the RMS prefix, including the transatlantic liner RMS Queen Mary 2.

One of the pennants flown by ships with RMS designation

When RMS Titanic embarked on her maiden voyage from Southampton, England on April 10, 1912, she carried hundreds of sacks of mail, each holding about 2000 letters. She stopped twice before heading for New York, in Cherbourg, France and in Queenstown, Ireland, dropping off passengers and picking up many more, along with more sacks of mail—approximately 3500 sacks in total, holding around 7 million letters and postcards.

Sacks of mail and luggage being loaded aboard Titanic at Queenstown

Passengers could post mail from Southampton, Cherbourg and Queenstown. Ida Strauss wrote from Southampton to a friend: “What a ship! Our rooms are furnished in the best of taste and most luxuriously…they are really rooms, not cabins.” Passenger Harvey Collyer wrote his parents on April 11th: “So far we are having a delightful trip. The weather is beautiful and the ship magnificent…it’s like a floating town.”

On board the Titanic, three American and two British postal workers sorted the mail during the voyage in one of the ship’s lowest decks. When the ship collided with the iceberg, the clerks were together celebrating one of their birthdays. Water immediately began pouring into the mail room. The men hurried to move the sacks of mail to the upper decks and possibly to safety. They were last seen working in two feet of water by a steward who tried in vain to get them to abandon their task. None of the postal clerks survived.

Titanic mailroom

The United States Postmaster General stated afterward, “The bravery exhibited by these men in their efforts to safeguard under such trying conditions the valuable mail entrusted to them should be a source of pride to the entire postal service … The loss of the men is deplored, but their example is a fine one for the traditions of the service and consistent with their previous records.”

Although all the mail was lost, it was believed that about $150,000 in postal money orders went down with the ship. Efforts were made to ensure payments to the beneficiaries. ”One of the first to be reimbursed for a lost money order was Miss Ethel Clarke, a maid who worked for President William Howard Taft's family. Her lost money order was for seven pounds. Based upon an examination of available postal records, a replacement U.S. money order was issued to her from postal service headquarters for $35.” Smithsonian National Postal Museum.

Photo credits: Encyclopedia Titanica

The Heroine of Lifeboat 12

Nineteen-year-old Lillian Bentham of New York had spent a year touring Europe with her godfather, other relatives, and friends. For the return trip to the US, the group boarded Titanic at Southampton. Lillian occupied a second-class cabin with Emily Rugg, age 22, from Guernsey, England. Emily was on her way to live in Wilmington, Delaware, where a relative owned a store. Emily was awakened by the collision and woke Lillian. The women made their way to the upper decks and were put into Lifeboat 12, along with 40 other women and children. When no other women or children were immediately available, a crowd of men from second and third class tried to board. The officers in charge refused to let the men on. As it was being lowered, a man leapt aboard as it passed B Deck. Later, No. 12 picked up passengers from the overturned collapsible boat B.

Lillian Bentham in the 1950s

Lillian gave several interviews in her later years about her experience in the lifeboat. “The greatest horror of the experience was the eight hours we spent floating about until we were picked up by the Carpathia…At first, the sea was smooth as glass but it was literally dotted with human forms swimming, clinging to wreckage, fighting to climb into the lifeboats…I began to realize that I had lost nothing compared to others, who had been compelled to see their relatives and friends go down with the Titanic.”

Toward morning, No. 12 came upon collapsible B, slowly sinking with 20 men aboard. Lillian said, “I helped the seaman pull those 20 men into our boat…We had to pile them in like so many sacks of flour, because they were unable to do anything to help themselves…I took off my coat and gave it to one man. I had two coats and could spare one.”

Seven of the men they pulled aboard died of exposure. The man who received Lillian’s coat was Cecil Fitzpatrick, an Irish crewman from the Titanic. In gratitude, he later gave Lillian the whistle he’d blown all night in the hope of calling another boat to help.

Lillian described the moment when, at last, she spotted the Carpathia. “Far off in the distance, we saw smoke, thin and indistinct at first, but gradually coming nearer…To me, and I guess to all of the others in that boat, that was the most wonderful ship in the world.”

Lillian's Custom Card given to her aboard the Carpathia

None of the men in Lillian’s traveling party survived, including her godfather. His widow met Lillian in New York City and helped her get to her parents’ home in Rochester, New York. She lived with them until she married, five years later. The couple remained in Rochester and did not have children. Lillian died in 1977 at age 85.

Lillian's headstone bears her Titanic story and the names of her traveling companions.

Titanic's youngest officer, the faithful James Moody

James Paul Moody left his home in Scarborough, England to attend King Edward Nautical School in London. He graduated in 1911 at the age of 23, and was hired by the White Star Line to serve aboard the luxurious Oceanic. Less than one year later, he was transferred to the Titanic as her Sixth Officer and sent to Belfast, where Titanic would be fitted out and prepared for her maiden voyage. Excited to be sailing aboard the world’s largest vessel, Moody was well-liked and loved to joke with his fellow crewmen.

Sixth Officer James P. Moody

The Titanic sailed from her home in Belfast to Southampton, where most of her crew was hired. Stewards, stokers, trimmers, cooks, errand boys, lift boys and other crewmembers boarded early on April 10th, prior to passenger arrivals. Six members of the crew, however, stayed too long at the local pub and had to run to catch the ship. When they reached the docks, James Moody had just ordered the gangplank to be pulled aboard. Not wanting to lose their new jobs, the men argued, but Moody refused to let them board. Six others had already been hired in their place.

Moody was responsible for the daily measuring of the air and water temperatures. He also took the 8:00-12:00 am and pm watches, plus the “dog watch” from 4:00-5:00 pm.

At 11:39 pm on the night of April 14^th, he was on watch on the bridge with First Officer William Murdoch. Lookout Frederick Fleet phoned the bridge. Moody answered and said, “What do you see?”

Fleet replied, “Iceberg, right ahead!” Moody immediately told Murdoch, who sent an order to the engine room on the telegraph. “Stop! Full speed astern!” followed by orders to turn the ship and close the doors between the watertight compartments. Despite their efforts, the Titanic rammed into the iceberg along its starboard side.

The Titanic Officers, with James Moody seated on the far left

As soon as Captain Smith ordered the lifeboats to be filled and lowered, Moody was sent to help with loading passengers into boats on the port side. When told by Fifth Officer Lowe to go with Boat 14, he refused. Although it was traditional for lower ranking officers to be given the position of manning a lifeboat, Moody told Lowe to take his place. He then went to the starboard side to assist Officer Murdoch.

James Moody was last seen by a ship’s trimmer, working to launch one of the collapsible lifeboats. His body was not recovered. He was 24 years of age.

The memorial plaque below, near his childhood home in Scarborough, is in honor of James Moody. Note the inscription near the bottom, with the Biblical quote from his mother's tombstone: "Greater love hath no man than this; that he lay down his life for his friends."  Additional memorials have been erected to remember the sacrifice of Titanic's youngest officer.

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The Unsinkable Sister Ship

Exactly 105 years ago yesterday, on October 20, 1910, the RMS Olympic was launched in Belfast. She was the first of what would become White Star Line’s trio of ocean liners known for their size and elegance. The Titanic was still under construction and would launch in 1912. Until the Titanic was completed, the Olympic held the title of the world’s largest passenger ship. The two were to be joined later by a third ship, the Britannic.

launch of the RMS Olympic

After her launch, Olympic was fitted with her heavy machinery and luxurious interior, then left for Liverpool, her home port, on May 31, 1911. On the same day, the RMS Titanic was launched, but still nearly a year away from her fateful maiden voyage on April 10, 1912.

Olympic’s maiden voyage to New York in June 1911 was successful. A crowd of 8000 toured the ship after docking in New York Harbor. On her fifth voyage to New York, just as she left Southampton, the Royal Navy cruiser HMS Hawke smashed into the side of the Olympic. Both ships were badly damaged, but they made it back to port, and Olympic’s New York voyage was cancelled. After temporary repairs, she was sent back to Belfast for more major repairs. This in turn caused Titanic’s completion and maiden voyage to be delayed.

On another voyage to New York in February 1912, the Olympic lost a propeller blade and had to return to Belfast again on her return. It was then the Olympic and Titanic were together for the last time.

Olympic (left) and Titanic

Two months later, on April 14, 1912, Titanic struck an iceberg on her maiden voyage. The distress signals reached the Olympic 500 miles away, too far for her to reach the Titanic before it sank. When the Olympic asked the Carpathia’s Captain Rostron if the Olympic could pick up survivors from the Carpathia, he refused. Seeing another ship the size of Titanic would only upset the survivors, he reasoned.

Six months after the Titanic disaster, the Olympic was temporarily taken out of service in order to make her watertight bulkheads higher and more lifeboats added. Features that had been present on the Titanic but not on the Olympic were added as well, such as the Café Parisien. For the most part, however, much of the Olympic was identical to her more famous younger sister.

When World War I began, the Olympic came to the aid of the HMS Audacious, a British battleship, when it struck a mine. She rescued the entire crew before the Audacious sank. The Olympic was requisitioned as a troop ship and made ready for war service, including “dazzle” paint, meant to make it harder for another ship to judge its speed. While carrying up to 6000 troops, she was unsuccessfully attacked by submarines several times. In 1918, the Olympic rammed and sank a German submarine, earning her the nickname, “Old Reliable.”

Olympic in "dazzle" paint

The Olympic returned to passenger service in 1920. She was eventually sold and demolished in 1937. Some of her fixtures are still on display at museums in the UK and at the White Swan Hotel, Ainwick, England.

Marble fireplace from the Olympic at the White Swan Hotel, Ainwick, England

A Young Survivor's Story Lives On

 Master Robert Douglas Spedden was born in New York City in 1905, the only child of Frederic and Daisy Spedden. At age 6, Douglas accompanied his parents on a European holiday to Algiers, Monte Carlo, and Paris. His nurse, Elizabeth Burns, joined them. Douglas had trouble pronouncing her name, so he called her “Muddie Boons.” For their return to New York, they boarded the Titanic at Cherbourg, France. Mr. and Mrs. Spedden occupied one first class cabin, and Douglas and Muddie took another.

Douglas Spedden with his parents, Frederic and Daisy

When the ship struck an iceberg on the night of April 14, 1912, Muddie woke Douglas and told him they were “taking a trip to see the stars.” The family made their way to the Boat Deck, where Mrs. Spedden, Muddie, and Douglas were soon put into Lifeboat 3. When no other women were willing to board the lifeboat, Mr. Spedden was allowed to join his family.

Douglas fell asleep in the boat, and woke at dawn to see icebergs dotting the ocean's surface. “Oh Muddie,” he said. “Look at the beautiful North Pole with no Santa Claus on it.” The Spedden’s, Miss Burns, and all occupants of Lifeboat 3 were rescued by the Carpathia.

In 1913, Daisy Spedden gave her son a book she had written about the family’s Titanic journey, as told through the eyes of Douglas’ stuffed bear, and entitled, My Story.

In 1915, nine-year-old Douglas was playing football near the family’s summer house in Maine. The ball went into the street, and Douglas ran after it. He was struck by a car and killed. This was one of the first automobile-related deaths in the state. He was buried in New York City.

Several years later, following the deaths of Daisy and Frederic Spedden, the book Daisy had written was discovered by a relative. My Story was given a new title, and Polar, the Titanic Bear was published in 1994.

Like the Titanic itself, the story of young Douglas Spedden lives on.

Titanic's Tennis Pros

Richard “Dick” Norris Williams II was born in Geneva, Switzerland to American parents. He began playing tennis at age 12 and won the Swiss Championship in 1911 at the age of 20. About to enter Harvard with a tennis scholarship, twenty-one-year-old Dick and his father, Charles, boarded the Titanic for New York. Dick planned to play in the US Championships at Newport, Rhode Island prior to beginning his college career.

Karl Behr and Richard "Dick" Williams

Karl Behr was born in New York City and graduated from Yale. In 1907, he played on the US Davis Cup tennis team, and competed in the Wimbledon Championships in the men’s doubles category. At 26, he boarded the Titanic in the company of his sweetheart, Helen Newsom, along with her parents.

On the night of April 14, 1912, Charles Williams never dreamed the ship would actually sink. Instead of donning their lifebelts, Charles and Dick used the gymnasium while the lifeboats were being loaded. When Titanic's bow began to dip below the surface and one of the funnels crashed into the ocean, Charles was killed instantly and Dick was washed overboard. Wearing a heavy fur coat, he removed the coat and his shoes and swam with all his might toward one of the collapsible lifeboats. He managed to reach it and hold on for a time before climbing in. He then spent several hours in the boat knee-deep in ice cold water before being transferred to Lifeboat 14. Of the original 30 passengers aboard Collapsible A, only 11 survived.

Karl, Helen, her parents, and another couple had gathered near Lifeboat 5 sometime after the Titanic hit the iceberg. One of the women asked J. Bruce Ismay, Chairman of White Star Line, if they all could board the lifeboat. He told them they could. Boat 5 was the second lifeboat to leave the ship. Karl later reported the boat could have easily held 15 or 20 more passengers.

Following rescue by the Carpathia, Dick Williams finally sought out a doctor to look at his reddish-purple legs. They were so frostbitten that the doctor advised amputation to prevent gangrene. Dick refused. He told the doctor, “I’m going to need these legs.” Despite the pain, he forced himself to walk every two hours around the clock. Before the Carpathia reached New York, he met Karl Behr, who befriended and encouraged him is his recovery.

Dick Williams and Karl Behr

Just months later, Dick and Karl entered a tennis tournament and faced each other in a tight match. Karl won, but Dick was just getting started. He entered Harvard, and reached the quarter finals in the next US Open, winning the championship in 1914 and 1916. In 1920, he won the Wimbledon title. And in 1924, he won an Olympic gold medal in the mixed doubles category.

Karl Behr married Helen Newsom the year following the disaster. He was instrumental in helping a group of third class survivors in their suit of the White Star Line. He also assisted Molly Brown in formally recognizing Captain Rostron and the Carpathia crew for their valiant efforts in the rescue operations.

Karl Behr and Dick Williams were later inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame. An exhibit in their honor is on display at the Hall of Fame headquarters in Newport, RI.

The Boat That Went Back (Part II)

From last week - In Lifeboat 14, Fifth Officer Harold Lowe, 29, blew his whistle and ordered that several boats near him, including Boat 4, tie together and redistribute the passengers more evenly. When that was done and the cries from the water subsided a bit, Lowe felt it was safe to return to rescue people from the water. Until then, he felt the boats would be sunk by hundreds of people attempting to climb in.

Lowe told the US Inquiry, “I transferred all my passengers…about 53, from my boat and equally distributed them among my other four boats. Then I asked for volunteers to go with me to the wreck…I went off and rowed to the wreckage and picked up four people alive. But one died, and that was Mr. Hoyt of New York. It took all the boat’s crew to pull this gentleman into the boat, because he was an enormous man…I propped him up at the stern of the boat…unfortunately he died. But the other three survived.”

Fifth Officer Harold Lowe (photo credit - itv.com)

Able Seaman Joseph Scarrott, with Lowe at the time, described the scene. “We tied our boats together so as to form a large object on the water which would be seen quicker than a single boat by a passing vessel….taking one man from each boat so as to make a crew, we rowed away amongst the wreckage. When we got to it, the sight we saw was awful. We were amongst hundreds of dead bodies floating in lifebelts. We could only see four alive…One of these we saw kneeling as if in prayer on a part of a staircase. He was only about twenty yards away from us but it took us half an hour to push our boat through the wreckage and bodies to get to him…we put out an oar for him and pulled him into the boat…As we left that awful scene we gave way to tears. It was enough to break the stoutest heart.”

Able Seaman Joseph Scarrott (photo credit - Encyclopedia Titanica)

Collapsible Lifeboat B had fallen into the water from the Titanic upside down. About 25 passengers and crew swam toward it and climbed on the overturned boat. After Officer Lowe and his crew rescued the four men from the wreckage, they spotted Lifeboat B and those on top or clinging to it in the water. They pulled alongside and picked up “about 20 men and one woman.” Another three had already perished, which Lowe decided to leave with the craft. Another died prior to rescue by the Carpathia. All living passengers and one body were taken aboard.

Survivors aboard the Carpathia (photo credit - Click Americana)

Harold Lowe had worked aboard ships ever since he ran away to sea when he was fourteen. The voyage on the Titanic was his first in the north Atlantic.

Following rescue, he married in September 1913 and had two children. He continued to work at sea and was made a commander in the Royal Naval Reserve during World War I. He died at the age of 61.

The Boat That Went Back (Part I)

After the Titanic struck an iceberg on the night of April 14, 1912, it soon became apparent that the ship would sink within a few short hours. All sixteen lifeboats plus four collapsible boats were lowered to the Atlantic’s surface, some only half-filled with passengers and crew.

Of the 2,223 souls onboard, only 706 survived by escaping the ship on a lifeboat. After the sinking at 2:20 am, hundreds cried for help in the water. Those in the lifeboats claimed it sounded like one long wailing chant, and was the worst sound they ever heard.

photo credit - Titanic Universe

Many of those in the water wore their lifebelts, but with the water temperature at 28 degrees Fahrenheit, hypothermia soon set in. After about twenty minutes, their cries began to diminish. By 3:00 am, all was quiet.

Passengers in many of the lifeboats wanted to go back and try to rescue any they could. They begged those in charge of their boats to go back, but were told they were too far away, or those in the water would swamp the boat. In Lifeboat 8, the Countess of Rothes and a few others wanted to return, but the other passengers overruled them. In Lifeboat 5, Ruth Dodge wanted to go back, but the others disagreed. She was so disgusted with them that she later switched boats. In Boat 6, Quartermaster Robert Hitchens told his passengers, “It’s our lives now, not theirs.”

The Countess of Rothes (photo credit - Titanic Forum)

Lifeboat 4 had been the last boat to leave Titanic’s port side, with two sailors and 42 passengers aboard. Among them were Mrs. John Jacob Astor and several more ladies from first class. As it launched, the women’s husbands stood on the deck together, quietly watching. Thirty-nine-year-old Quartermaster Walter Perkis, still on deck, was then sent to the boat to take command. He had to slide down a 70-foot rope to reach it.

As the Titanic sank, Boat 4 passenger Mrs. Emily Ryerson, wife of steel magnate Arthur Ryerson of Philadelphia, heard someone say, “Pull for your lives or you’ll be sucked under.” She saw Mrs. Astor helping with the rowing, but there didn’t seem to be any suction. The lifeboat hadn’t gone far when the occupants began hearing the agonizing cries from those in the water.

Mrs. Emily Ryerson (photo credit - aftitanic.com)

Perkis told the US Inquiry, “…we picked up eight men that were swimming with life preservers. Two died afterwards in the boat. One was a fireman and one was a steward.”

Mrs. Ryerson stated, “…we dragged in six or seven men. They were so chilled or frozen already they could hardly move. Two of them died in the stern later, and many were raving and moaning and delirious most of the time.”

In Lifeboat 14, Fifth Officer Harold Lowe, 29, blew his whistle and ordered that several boats near him, including Boat 4, tie together and redistribute the passengers more evenly. When that was done and the cries from the water subsided a bit, Lowe felt it was safe to return to rescue people from the water. Until then, he felt the boats would be sunk by hundreds of people attempting to climb in.

(To be continued next week)

Not By Bread Alone

Nineteen crewmen on the Titanic worked as bakers. A Liverpool native, Chief Baker Charles Joughin, 32, had worked aboard ships since his teen years. He was employed by the White Star Line to first work on the Olympic, Titanic’s sister ship, before being transferred to Titanic for her maiden voyage.

Charles Joughin - Photo credit Encyclopedia Titanica

While Titanic’s lifeboats were being loaded following the collision, Mr. Joughin was ordered to bring what he could in the way of provisions for the boats. He sent thirteen men to the boats, each with four loaves of bread. At some point while the ship was sinking, he began drinking alcohol in preparation for whatever lay ahead.

After surviving the disaster, he told the British Inquiry:

I went to my room and had a drop of liquor. When I went upstairs again, all the boats seemed to have gone, and I threw about 50 deckchairs overboard because I was looking for something to cling to….There was a buckling and cracking as if the vessel was breaking. I kept out of the crush of people… and she gave a great list to port and threw everybody in a bunch. The people were piled up, many hundreds of them. Just as I wondered what to do next, she went. I was not dragged under water, but I was in the water about two hours. I was just paddling until daylight came. Then I spotted what I thought was some wreckage. 

The wreckage Mr. Joughin thought he found was actually Collapsible B, one of the extra lifeboats that had been launched just prior to the sinking. He tried to board, but the boat was upside down with about 25 men standing on top. He was pushed off, but hung on with the help of a cook. He eventually was picked up by another lifeboat. Some claim his ability to withstand the ocean's cold temperature was due to the amount of alcohol he’d likely consumed. Another source says he insisted he never even got his hair wet.

A boat from the Mackay-Bennett picks up Titanic's Collapsible B during recovery operations

photo credit Independence Seaport Museum

Mr. Joughin had also been on board the SS Oregon when it sank in Boston Harbor in 1886. After his rescue from the Titanic, he continued his employment with American Transport Lines and World War II troop transports. He died in 1956 and is buried near his home in Patterson, New Jersey.