Saturday, October 7, 2017

Cobh, the Titanic, and the Lusitania

Because it sits near the entrance to Cork harbor, Cobh’s history is intimately tied to a history of shipping. Two famous ship disasters loom large in its history. The connection between the Titanic and Ireland is substantial. Built in the dockyards of Belfast, its last port of call was Cobh (then known as Queenstown) just four days before striking an iceberg and sinking. It is difficult to comprehend how large the ship was and how monumental the disaster. Today in the shipyards of Belfast, you can walk around an outline of where the ship was built; a walk around the decks would have provided good exercise for the passengers. So large was the ship, that the loss of life was substantial and trying. Well over a century later, in order to make a comparison, it is tempting to say that a major airline disaster might be equivalent. Yet, the size of the ship meant that it would mean ten aircrafts crashing to equal the number people affected. The passengers included both the super-wealthy and people desperate to migrate to the United States to start a new life. Certainly, there are many of us who travel across the Atlantic that cannot imagine the level of service or quality of food available to the passengers, even in second and third class. Traveling in coach class in airplanes in the twenty-first century is not the equivalent of traveling third class on the Titanic.
The Titanic captures our imagination because of the stories involved. Certainly, because it was so big, so luxurious, we remember the opulence of a time gone by. There are not many of photographs of the ship. The Cobh Heritage Centre contains a few photographs from Frank Brown, who was among the seven who disembarked from the Titanic at Queenstown. His photographs give us a peek into a place where few experienced; a ship being used, rather than architectural photographs of a completed project. The final set of 123 passengers boarded in Queenstown. The Titanic would only sail once, and most of the people on board would face a harrowing experience, many losing their lives. Like many dramatic events, the loss of the Titanic is often reduced to statistical numbers in order to demonstrate the scale of the tragedy. But these numbers rob the victims of their stories, which reminds us that these were actual people. For instance, boarding at Queenstown was Dennis Lennon and Mary Mullen, who were eloping to America. Jeremiah Burke, during his final minutes, would write a message of farewell to his family and friends and place it in a bottle, which came ashore in Dunkettle. There were also backstories to the Titanic that reflect national identities yesterday and today. Built by Irish laborers, at the time some expressed concerns about the quality of workmanship of those who worked on the great ship.  A t-shirt available in the local tourist shops in Belfast reads: “Titanic – built by Irishmen. Sunk by an Englishman.”
Titanic Memorial Park, Cobh, Ireland
I began a walk in Cobh under mostly sunny skies, yet by the time I got to the Titanic Memorial Gardens pesky sprinkles had begun. While exploring the area, the rain turned to a downpour and I sought shelter under a narrow arch. The rapidly changing weather prompted a resident to use an oft repeated and apt saying. As the rain became heavier and more persistent, a grandfather who had been enjoying a stroll while his grandson was ineffectually throwing a boomerang. I wondered if it was a gift from a relative who had emigrated to Australia after the financial crisis. The gentleman, seemingly kind and patient, called to his charge to hurry along, “Come on. It's raining, lad.” He sighed, as if he lamented the interruption of his walk saying, “Aye. Four seasons in one day again.”
While you might consider the sinking of the Titanic a disaster borne of hubris, the sinking of RMS Lusitania is more directly related to humans’ inability to get along. The Lusitania was torpedoed and sunk by a German U-boat off old Head of Kinsdale, 25 miles west of Queenstown. Nearly 1200 people died when the ship was sunk and the event had a dramatic effect on propaganda, public opinion, and the course of World War I. Survivors and bodies from the Lusitania were brought to Queenstown. Completely overwhelmed some of the survivors were taken in by local residents. It was the year before the Easter Rising and Queenstown, the name of Cobh prior to Irish independence, was to remain a part of the British Empire for the next seven years.
Lusitania Memorial (Cobh)
In the local museum, a letter from Winifred Hull, a thirty-three-year-old British survivor, living in Winnipeg, to the Swanton family who housed her in the aftermath of the sinking is illuminating and distressing. In it she expresses deep regret for not writing sooner; however, it is clear to the reader she has been traumatized by the events. Hull counts herself lucky because her friends lost family members during the incident. She writes that every time she cogitates about the events her hands begin to shake. When she does compose the letter, eighteen days afterwards, she writes: “Will any of us ever forget, I wonder, I think not. But neither, I am sure, shall we ever forget the wondrous kindness shown to us, who survived that awful experience by the people of Queenstown, and by yourselves particularly to my friends and myself.” I was struck, in the middle of such tragedy, people often remember the most mundane things. Hull agonizes about not returning Mrs. Swanton’s coat sooner.

Mass grave marker for Lusitania victims
I walked to the Old Church Cemetery, just outside of Cobh, where there are 169 victims from the Lusitania buried. By the afternoon the weather had cleared up and it was a pleasant walk. This was the area of town where several local residents would do their shopping. Several boys were jumping the fence across the small path that separated the cemetery and their local football (soccer) practice field. Otherwise, I saw very few people. Most of the Lusitania victims are buried in mass graves at the west end of the cemetery. Three mounds are each marked by four Irish yew trees. As the centenary of the sinking and the First World War passes, I found myself wandering about the relevance of the events and memories to future generations. Among the other graves in the Old Church Cemetery was the British doctor who had administered to Napoleon during his exile on St. Helena. The Battle of Waterloo, which led to Napoleon’s exile, took place a hundred years prior to the sinking of the Lusitania. Yet, to most people today Napoleon is a footnote of history. A hundred years on, the Lusitania and the First World War will likely become the same. 


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