At the Forbes Galleries SS "United States" exhibition. This panel was purchased by publisher Malcolm S. Forbes Sr. and his son Bob in 1984 when the ship's furniture and artwork was sold at auction.

Quack! This is a picture of me taken in front of one of the panels from the living room of first class suite U-89, known as the “Duck Suite.”

Constance Smith rendered these panels in gold leaf and paint on aluminum. This enormous suite had 1,100 square feet of living space, and was of one of fourteen luxury suites onboard. It consisted of a large living room, two bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a trunk room. Its most famous occupants were Edward, Duke of Windsor and Wallis, Duchess of Windsor, who booked it four times a year and had it (temporarily) custom-decorated for the five day voyage. They usually traveled with over 80 pieces of luggage, and were allowed to keep their two pug dogs in their suite rather than in the ship’s kennels.

An ardent ship lover, the Duke was one of the few people granted access to the ship’s bridge (where, attired in tweeds and argyle socks, he would regale the officers with his golf stories) and the top-secret engine rooms.

Such security clearance was ironic indeed; during the 1930s, the British government suspected the former King of England and the woman for whom he gave up the throne of harboring strong Nazi sympathies.

This panel is now in the collection of the Forbes family at the Forbes Galleries in New York. — at Forbes Galleries.

The SS United States exhibition at the Forbes Galleries, sponsored by the SS United States Conservancy, runs from May 18 to September 3, 2012. To learn more, click here.

A young Edward, Prince of Wales, shaking hands with the captain of the RMS "Olympic" ("Titanic's" sistership) sometime in the mid-1920s. The heir to the British throne was a dapper, indolent playboy, known as the "Rake of the Riviera." His most famous contribution to culture: the "Windsor knot."

The Duke and Duchess of Windsor in the living room of first class suite U-89 (aka the "Duck Suite"), SS "United States."

A couple with an unsavory past. Why was this man given security clearance to tour the ship's top-secret engine room? Rumor had it that Hitler planned to restore Edward to the throne and make Wallis the Queen, pending a successful Nazi conquest of England.

The "Duck Suite" in the early 1970s. The ship had been laid up since 1969, but all interior fittings and furniture were still in place and in pristine conditions. The interiors would be dismantled and sold at auction in 1984.

On May 14, 1952, the SS United States sailed from Newport News, Virginia under her own power for the first time.  She was under the command of legendary master Commodore Harry Manning.  Onboard were over 1,000 guests: shipyard officials, newspaper reporters, Navy brass.  Among them were William Francis Gibbs, his brother Frederic Gibbs, General John M. Franklin (president of U.S. Lines), Admiral Edward Cochrane, and multi-millionaire investor Vincent Astor.

Much of the interior was unfinished.  The food and beverages was basic: fried chicken, rice, and beer.

The Coast Guard Conifer was stationed close by during these trial runs to keep track of her speed.  A photographer and movie cameraman was on hand to document these sea trials, which took place during a ferocious gale.

Another trial run, in better weather conditions, was held in June.

The results of these trips were kept classified: only those on the bridge, the engine room, and aboard the Coast Guard cutter knew the true speed of the SS United States.

Reporters onboard the SS United States, as well as an intensely curious American public, were left only to guess.

It was not until 1978 that Newport News Shipbuilding and the U.S. military made her top sustained speed public: 38.32 knots at 241,000 shaft horsepower. She was probably capable of even greater speeds: her absolute top horsepower was estimated at 248,000.

In other words, this was the equivalent of a structure three football fields long and weighing 53,000 tons moving through the ocean at incredible 44 land miles per hour!

The SS United States had the greatest power-to-weight ratio of any commercial vessel in history.

William Francis Gibbs and his team had done the impossible: combining the size and luxury of an ocean liner with the speed and maneuverability of a navy destroyer.

The SS United States on her high speed trial runs off the Virginia Capes, 1952.

Commodore Harry Manning, USNR. Pianist, boxer, aviator, and the finest American skipper on the high seas.

If you had ancestors that arrived in New York at Ellis Island (and I’m proud to say that I do), I urge you to watch the opening scene of The Legend of 1900, in which immigrants aboard a great ocean liner see the Statue of Liberty for the first time. On my mother’s side, these people were my great-grandparents, who arrived in New York in the 1890s.

Whether or not these were your people, you will be moved. Maybe even to tears.

"1900" (played by Tim Roth) plays the piano for immigrants in third class.

May 7, 1915. 2:00pm off the coast of Ireland.

After an uneventful and calm 7 day voyage, Lusitania arrives off the Old Head of Kinsale. Because of dense fog, Captain Turner had reduced speed to only 15 knots to avoid a collision in the heavily-trafficked sea lanes. Finally, around 12 noon, the skies clear and Turner increases speed to 18 knots, so that he can arrive in Liverpool on the tide.

Passengers are either strolling on the deck or enjoying second lunch in one of the Lusitania’s three dining rooms. Suitcases and trunks are packed in preparation for arrival later that day.

Looking through his periscope, Captain Schwieger of the U-20 sees a four-funneled profile in the distance. The big liner is steaming away from him, and he has no chance of catching her, but he decides to submerge.

Then Captain Turner makes a fateful decision: he decides to get a four-point fix on Lusitania’s position, and turns his ship directly towards the submarine.

Captain Schwieger cannot believe what he is seeing. He has only two torpedos left. He knows that the Lusitania is incredibly well-built and designed to survive multiple hits. One torpedo could not possibly sink such a big ship.

At 2:10pm, he orders his crew to fire one torpedo at the approaching liner.

Yet his quartermaster, Charles Voegele, refuses to carry out his captain’s orders, insisting he cannot attack hundreds of women and children.

Schwieger, furious at this act of insubordination, shoves Voegle aside, and shouts “Fire!” through the command tubes.

On the Lusitania’s bridge, Captain Turner sees the torpedo trail headed towards his ship’s starboard flank, and orders “Hard a starboard!”

The torpedo strikes the Lusitania beneath her first funnel, smashing into one of her boiler rooms. A tremendous explosion sends a column of steam and flame up into the air.

Moments later, a second, much larger explosion rocks the Lusitania, blowing her bottom out and knocking out the ship’s engines and electrical plant.

On the bridge, Turner realizes his enormous ship is listing, completely out of control, and sinking fast.

In only 18 minutes, the Lusitania capsizes and plunges to the bottom of the Atlantic, taking 1,198 out of the 2,000 onboard with her.

The lower level of the "Lusitania's" first class dining room, where the second lunch seating was being served at 2pm on May 7, 1915.

Passengers standing at the rail could see the green hills of the Irish coast ten miles away.

"Lusitania" rolls onto her starboard side. Her steep list prevents half of her lifeboats from being swung out and lowered.

A British propaganda poster produced soon after the sinking.

Unfortunately, Lusitania’s bulkhead configuration raised doubts among some naval architects about her stability if damaged.

Would the uneven flooding fatally reduce the big ship’s margin of stability and cause her to capsize?  Lusitania and Mauretania had reputations as “wet” ships in rough seas, as their lean hulls made them prone to heavy rolling.  When their coal supplies were depleted at the end of a voyage, they gave an even rougher ride because those thousands of tons of fuel provided crucial ballast.

And what about all that left-over coal dust? Coal residue is very explosive if given a source of ignition…

Blueprints of the Lusitania and Mauretania, showing their extensive compartmentation that included transverse and longitudinal watertight bulkheads. This configuration was standard practice on ships of the British Navy, and both liners were designed to be converted into warships in the event of a national emergency.

Blueprints of the Olympic and Titanic, showing their lesser amount of compartmentation as compared to the earlier Cunard ships. 15 transverse watertight bulkheads dividing the ship into 16 watertight compartments. The White Star liners offered greater spaciousness and creature comforts than their faster but smaller Cunard rivals.

An illustration of the fatal Courrieres coal mine explosion in France, 1906.

A silver-plated teapot from the Edwardian period, says Paul Atterbury, is a relatively common item in antique stores. But if it is a teapot that came from the RMS Olympic and emblazoned with the White Star Line burgee, then it is immensely valuable, indeed.

Antiques Roadshow host Paul Atterbury hosts a fascinating and engaging BBC Timeshift documentary on the history of ocean liners from the late 19th century to just before the Second World War.  In this show, Atterbury discovers relics from long-gone ocean liners such as the Mauretania, Homeric, and Normandie, and also explores the (immensely profitable) business of creating travel fantasies for the rich and transportation for immigrants starting a new life in America.  Among the large-than-life characters involved in the story are business leaders J.P. Morgan, Lord Inverclyde, and Albert Ballin, who pulled the strings of American, British, and German high finance and government to build their dream ships.  He also pays a visit to the Ritz Hotel and the Royal Automobile Club in London, which boast interiors designed by the same architects responsible for the public rooms of the great ships of the early 1900s.

Above all, this is a fascinating look at how the golden age of transatlantic liners is deeply  ingrained in American and British popular culture and imagination.

Paul Atterbury on "Antiques Roadshow"

The swimming pool of the Royal Automobile Club in London. In the early 1910s, German shipping magnate Albert Ballin commissioned the club's architect Charles Mewes to replicate this space aboard his liners "Imperator," "Vaterland," and "Bismarck."

From the Simon & Schuster author webpage. To learn more, click here.

Click on this image to watch this footage of the Lusitania leaving New York on her last voyage. The cameraman is standing on the pier catwalk, and captures the ship backing into the Hudson River. First and second class passengers are gathered at the rail or strolling the boat deck.

97 years ago today, the RMS Lusitania departed New York on a crossing to Liverpool. A movie cameraman was there on May 1, 1915 to document what turned out to be the great ship’s last voyage. He stood at the entrance to Pier 54 (today’s Chelsea Piers) as passengers arrived in taxis, and also high on the pier catwalk as tugs backed Lusitania into the Hudson River. Onboard were 1,200 passengers (including 200 Americans) and 800 crew.

The First World War had broken out in late 1914, and Lusitania was the only big British liner left in commercial service. Despite the hellish trench warfare in France and the sinking of dozens of Allied ships off the British Isles, many refused to change their travel plans. Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt, for example, did not let a war get in the way of a visit to England to discuss a horse show. Playwright Charles Frohman, original producer of Peter Pan, had important theater business in London.

There was little to fear aboard the big Cunarder. Lusitania was fast, safe, and well-built. Her hull was divided into 34 watertight compartments, and she was designed to take multiple torpedo hits and remain afloat.

As Lusitania cleared Ambrose Light and headed into the Atlantic sea lanes, Captain William Turner, veteran Cunard captain, decided not to steer a zig-zag course, afraid that the resulting rolling would frighten the passengers. Those participating in the ship’s pool that first day were annoyed to find that Lusitania, able to steam at over 25 knots and make over 600 nautical miles in a single day, was only making about 450 miles a day.

The reason: one boiler room had been shut down to save coal, reducing the ship’s speed to a mere 21 knots.

Aside from size and maneuverability, speed was an ocean liner’s best defense against a U-boat, preventing the enemy captain from launching a well-placed torpedo.

Off the Irish coast, Captain Walter Schwieger, commander of the German submarine U-20, was having a productive few days, sinking several British cargo ships.   He knew the Lusitania would be entering the war zone by May 7, but he knew that he had little chance of sinking her.  At best, he hoped to give Lusitania a “bloody nose.”  She might be a passenger liner carrying 2,000 civilians, but the German Admiralty had little doubt she was carrying something else in her cargo holds.  Crippling her would send a powerful message to the Allies: that Germany meant business and would ignore the use of human shields on ships carrying armaments.

While reading Daniel Okrent’s Great Fortune: The Epic of Rockefeller Center, I was surprised to learn that the designer of the original Queen Mary‘s interiors was an American architect (with roots in Philadelphia) named Benjamin Wistar Morris III. Morris came up with the initial design concept for Rockefeller Center in the 1920s, but was ousted by John D. Rockefeller Jr. and his real estate team. Morris went on to work with the Cunard Line, designing not just the interiors of the Queen Mary but also the Cunard Building in New York and Patton Hall at Princeton University.

His Art Deco interiors for Great Britain’s national flagship were met with mixed reviews. According to one British critic:  ”The design and decor of her public rooms, her bars, and her restaurants, seem to have been aimed at dollar millionaires from the Mid-west and their opposite numbers in England who claim that, ‘Where there is muck, there is money.’ The workmanship is magnificent, the materials used are splendid, the result appalling.’”

A harsh assessment of the work of a man who considered himself to be an arbiter of good taste!

"Queen Mary" at anchor. Today, she is a floating hotel and convention center in Long Beach, California.

British Art Deco...or "expensive vulgarity"? Morris's first class smoking room aboard the "Queen Mary."

A watercolor by Benjamin Morris depicting the RMS "Queen Mary" before her launch, 1934.

Morris's sermon in traditional, collegiate Gothic taste. Patton Hall at Princeton University.

Morris's original design for Rockefeller Center from the late 1920s, which included a new home for the Metropolitan Opera.

Click on the album cover to listen to samples and purchase a new recording of the Britannic's Welte symphonic organ.

This is nothing short of bizarre. And amazing. HMHS Britannic, the sistership to the Titanic and Olympic, was completed as a hospital ship in 1915 and sunk the following year by a mine off the coast of Greece.

Had Britannic entered commercial service, she would have been even more luxurious than her two sisters. Among the extra niceties White Star planned for their flagship was a custom-built Welte symphonic organ, which would have been installed in the first class grand staircase. A Welte symphonic organ was the Edwardian equivalent of a top-of-the-line sound system, found only in the grandest hotels and the mansions of the very wealthy. This organ was never installed on the Britannic, and it was recently found in Switzerland and restored to full working order.

Here is a recording of an instrument intended for the high seas, aboard Britain’s grandest liner.  Sadly, Britannic never made a single commercial voyage.

The Britannic now lies on her side in the Aegean Sea, a coral-encrusted wreck, but this fine instrument has survived for almost a century.

The band might have played for the Titanic, but for the Britannic, the pipe organ continues to play on!

Britannic meets her end off the coast of Greece on November 21, 1916. Despite all the design refinements worked into her following the Titanic disaster, the ship sank in only one hour. Watertight doors jammed following the explosion, and seawater poured through portholes opened to air out the hospital wards. If she had struck a mine when fully loaded with 5,000 patients, the loss of life would have been much worse than the Titanic disaster. Out of 1,200 crew and hospital staff, 30 lost their lives.