Sinking the United States
By Charles P. Eberson
Senior Moments
The year was 1963. As a young lad I was standing with my parents on a wharf in Southampton, England, gazing up at a wall of gleaming black steel adorned with a pair of sleek, red white and blue smokestacks. We were about to board the fastest ocean liner in the world – the SS United States, bound for New York City.
My mother was English, and since she had family in England we would make the trip by air every few years. This year my parents decided on a more leisurely return to the States.
Once aboard we were shown to our stateroom, which was much smaller than the term suggests, offering a view outside through a single, small porthole.
Upon departure, we joined the crowd up on deck as they waved goodbye to family and friends on the dock. I was practically jolted out of my skin as the liner gave a few blasts of the horn and slipped smoothly away from the wharf.
It took only four days to cross the Atlantic. During that time I became familiar with the ship as I was allowed to wander freely. I guess my parents felt I couldn’t get into much trouble at sea. I made friends with other kids my age and played shuffleboard on one of the decks while my father took home movies of the trip.
The ship had a small swimming pool below deck, which I wanted to visit. But the ocean was rougher than usual that day and I was feeling a little green. What I was unprepared for was seeing the water in the pool rolling in response to the movement of the ship. It so exacerbated my condition that I scurried back on deck for some fresh air.
After four days we passed the Statue of Liberty and eased into New York Harbor next to the Queen Mary, which left a day before us.
Fast forward half a century and I find myself sitting in the cafeteria of the IKEA store in Philadelphia while my wife is shopping, unencumbered by my watchful eye. As I have done many visits before, my gaze rested upon Pier 82 where the sad, rusting hull of a once proud lady of the Atlantic, SS United States, is docked.
There have been many plans over the years to save her. Converting her into a tourist attraction, a casino, or a museum were just a few ideas for the ship that never came to fruition.
Launched in June of 1951, she was an engineering marvel of her time, constructed for speed and safety. The only wood on board was the kitchen butcher blocks to make her impervious to fires. She had a top speed of over 38 knots (nearly 44 miles per hour) and a capacity of more than 3,000, passengers and crew combined.
One would think this historic icon of the seas would somehow be saved. But now the only way to avoid the scrapyard is to sink her as an artificial reef, the largest in the world. That process has begun as this issue goes to print.
At nearly 1,000 feet long, the SS United States is being towed from Philadelphia to Mobile, Ala., where the final preparations will be made for her to take her final voyage to the bottom of the Gulf off of Destin, Fla. There she will spend her days attracting all sorts of wildlife as well as recreational divers. In my opinion, it’s an ignominious ending for such a grand lady of the seas.
There is far more to tell of the history of the SS United States than there is space in this column, but there is a plethora of information available online including the SS United States Conservancy website; see www.ssc.org. Those interested in tracking her progress can do so via the Destin, Fla. website at www.destinfwb.com.
I will be doing so in the hope I can catch one more glimpse of the still sleek, majestic lady finally back in her element. The only question left is, what am I going to look at now from the cafeteria in IKEA?
Charles Eberson has been in the newspaper business for over 25 years. He has worked as a writer, advertising executive, circulation manager and photographer. His photography can be viewed at charles-eberson.fineartamerica.com
