After dinner, Don Iddon watched dozens of passengers cluster around the first-class cocktail bar, its shelves stacked high with crystal glassware. The Meyer Davis Orchestra struck up their signature show tune medleys, featuring favorites by Cole Porter, George Gershwin, and Jerome Kern. The music grew more up-tempo, the laughter louder, and as the band moved from quick to slow numbers, and from major to minor, the dancers were awed as the ballroom’s lighting shifted from dim to bright.16 The ship’s sleek décor and Park Avenue–style ambience had started to grow on Iddon. The ballroom, packed to the walls with dancers, was “palatial,” and other public rooms resembled posh nightclubs, such as “the Rainbow Room and the Starlight Roof in New York and the American Bar at the Savoy.”17
Manning, dressed in his dark greatcoat, walked into the ballroom. The commodore chatted with a few passengers, and then asked a few of the women to dance. The introverted Manning proved to be adept at the tango.18 He then quietly slipped back to the bridge.19
Those who did not want to dance retreated to one of many small seating nooks, hidden by illuminated, etched glass panels of swirling sea creatures and plants. For those wanting something quieter, there was demitasse coffee and sherry being served in the smoking room.
Although they had received weeks of training to prepare for the voyage, the stewards department scrambled to keep up with the work. In the middle of the night, a single steward had to shine all the shoes left out in the corridors. The laundry workers had to press hundreds of passenger items each day, as well as thousands of sets of bed linens and steward’s jackets. The clattering galleys, their ranges and counters lined with dozens of chefs, had to cook eight thousand meals daily. When the kitchen closed, uneaten piles of steaks, fish, and other delicacies sat on the galley counters and the buffet tables. Bismarck blew his whistle, letting everyone know it was time to hose down the ranges. But before his workers began to clean up, dozens of Krudener’s staff descended on the galley like locusts. They grabbed the unclaimed filet mignons, stuffed them into tin pots filled with rice, and ran back to the crew lounges to scarf them down. Only the leftover lobster tails were off-limits. They would be turned into lobster salad for the following day’s lunch. The stewards department also could munch on leftover frog’s legs that came from a big tureen in the first-class smoking room.20
During a few hours’ rest, the serving staff would retire to their cubbyhole lounges and cabins, hang up their jackets, pinafores, chef’s hats, and bow ties, and enjoy a game of cards before turning in. The crew menu was basic but hearty: cream of tomato soup, fried filet of sole, and roast leg of lamb. They could also watch a movie or listen to popular music on portable record players. Gambling among the crew was a chronic problem, especially among the nonstop poker players. Most of the staff would be up by 5 A.M. A few engineers would remain on watch through the night.
By the end of the first day, deck steward Jim Green was so tired he could barely stand up. He was already miffed that the commodore had docked his first day’s pay for sleeping through a lifeboat drill. “As a deck steward, I was working 7 days a week, 13 hours a day,” Green recalled. “You’d work from 8 A.M. to 12 noon. You’d then be off from noon to 3 P.M., then on again from 3 to 5 P.M., then on again from 7 P.M. to 10 P.M. In addition to your normal chores, you’d have a lot of extra duties to do.”
The Meyer Davis musicians’ schedule was also demanding, especially for the first-class orchestra. “You’d usually play a tea concert,” one musician recalled, “then about 6:30 o’clock would be dinner… you’d probably play till about 9 o’clock. You’d start again about 10 P.M. and play for whatever time would be appropriate, probably about 2 hours.”21
Despite their best efforts, at least one passenger complained about the service. “The fastest passenger ship in the world has not got the fastest service,” sniffed Iddon. “The Cunard’s have. The system of pressing a button for bellboys does not seem to work very well, and some stewards have too much to do at peak rush hours.”22
Friday, July 4 dawned cold and foggy. Yet Manning did not slow the liner down in the crowded summer C-track shipping lane, the northernmost and shortest of the three routes. In fact, he ordered Kaiser to increase steam.
Passengers who got up early in the morning found fresh copies of the Ocean Press in their staterooms, its pages full of United Press stories radioed to the ship only a few hours earlier. As they sipped their coffee, they read that in Vienna, U.N. secretary-general Trygve Lie had called the Korean War not “a war about a small territory but… a fight for the general principles of the U.N.” In Chicago, Senator Robert Taft, Republican of Ohio—a bitter foe of President Truman—continued to seek his party’s presidential nomination, despite General Eisenhower’s popularity. In baseball, the New York Yankees had beaten the Brooklyn Dodgers 4–3. The Ocean Press also reported that the United States Lines received 6,000 applications for 1,000 spaces atop the Ocean Liner Terminal in Southampton for the anticipated July 8 arrival, and that 2,500 spaces on top of two other piers were snatched up in half an hour.
For those looking for some exercise, the Ocean Press informed first-class passengers that the gym and swimming pool opened at 7 A.M., and that outdoor games such as shuffleboard and deck tennis would be set up at 10:30 A.M., weather permitting. The “Ship’s Notices” section urged passengers to “always hold onto safety ropes, hand rails, or secured furniture when crossing open lobbies, through public rooms, or in the Dining Room.” It also urged its readers that “to avoid injuries to fingers, do not attempt to open or close ports,” and that women passengers “are advised to wear low heel shoes.”23
At twelve noon, the press corps trooped into the observation lounge and took out their notepads. Manning, General Franklin, and William Francis Gibbs filed into the room and took their seats in the green leather chairs.
Iddon wrote that the commodore was a “handsome, very alert man and he can be tough.” He was less impressed with “red-faced, massive” General Franklin, “who did not say much about the ship except: ‘We’re doing all right pretty good. I’ll say we’re doing alright.’”
Manning said that for her first full day at sea, United States had averaged 34.11 knots and had clocked 696 nautical miles.
While he might be rude to the crew and even passengers, Manning loved talking to reporters. “He likes to score off the Press with mild sarcasm and astringent comments,” Iddon noted, “but I found him amiable and there is no doubt he is wonderfully proud of his wonder ship.”24
When asked by reporters about what he thought of the ship, Gibbs kept a deadpan face, but he could barely contain his enthusiasm. “This ship is the product of explosive power—American industry,” he said. “The United States moves as if it were jet-propelled. She is a very fast lady indeed.”25
It was too breezy outside for deck games, so many of the first-class passengers lounged in the deck chairs lining the enclosed promenades. They chatted with each other, read a book from the ship’s library, or simply watched the ocean sweep by the windows. There was a bridge party in the observation lounge at 3:30 P.M. Those wanting to hear some music could go to the ballroom to hear a subset of the Meyer Davis men play light classical favorites at afternoon tea. The 1:45 P.M. feature in the movie theater was Lovely to Look At, starring Howard Keel and Kathryn Grayson. Before changing for dinner, passengers could also have a cocktail or two in the black and red refuge of the smoking room.