Dispatches from Home: Luxury, Steam, and a Pleasant Crossing. October 14 2023
“It’s hard to believe they are gone. The piers are still there. The bon voyage baskets, piled high with impractical fruits and jellies, still line the shelves of the gourmet shops. In midtown Manhattan, there’s even a postcard still for sale, showing the Queen Elizabeth, Mauretania, a Sylvania-class Cunarder, the America and the Independence lying side by side at their berths, just as though they were sailing tomorrow.” Thus begins one of my all-time favorite books, John Maxtone-Graham’s, “The Only Way To Cross,” published in 1972.
I first read this book while on a church choir tour back in 1974. I’ve reread it many times since then, the thrill of this page-turner never failing to entertain. Its pages whisk you back to another day and age, when massive ocean greyhounds ruled the Atlantic, their razor-sharp bows cutting through the waves, their sleek lines and towering funerals portraying power and majesty.
Mr. Maxtone-Graham has a superb instinct for detail, encompassing not only the sights but the sounds and smells of ocean travel. He recalls his voyage on the first Queen Mary in the late 1940s and its unique aroma – “an evocative blend of tea, flowers, floor wax, and whatever stern British antiseptic had survived the war intact.”
I, too, discovered the sights and sounds of ocean travel in 1988. A dear friend and I booked passage on the Carnivale. Built for the Canadian Pacific Steamship Company in 1955 and launched by HM Queen Elizabeth II as the Empress of Britain, the ship was purchased by Carnival Cruise Lines in 1972.
The company refurbished her, and she was marketed as one of its “Fun Ships.” And that she was! She was phenomenally successful on her seven-day cruises out of Miami, calling at San Juan, St Maarten, and St Thomas, which was my favorite of the three.
I so enjoyed roaming around the old ship. As children romped up down the promenade decks, tourists swathed in layers of Coppertone, soaked up the sun around the pool, and stewards and ship personnel in starched-white uniforms dashed about assisting other passengers, I marveled at the remnants of the ship’s remaining 1950s décor. Polished brass and chrome Art-Deco-ish banisters and door frames, along with etched-glass panels sporting flowers and palm branches, beckoned at every turn.
Our stateroom, compact but well designed, was paneled in satinwood with mahogany trim. The red, yellow, and orange porthole curtains, along with a matching bedspread and chair, completed the room’s décor. The room’s bathroom and shower were small. The shower was especially “fun” when the old ship decided to liven things up a bit by rolling from side to side. Thank heavens for shower bars! At night, the soft creaking of the old paneling and steady pulse of the engines far below lulled us to sleep.
Today’s cruise ships are a world apart from the old Carnivale, but the thrill of an ocean cruise, whether on the Atlantic or in the Caribbean, has not waned. Back in ’88, as I sat in the cozy comfort of my deck chair, looking out across the vast, indigo-blue ocean and breathing in the fresh, salt-sea air, I saw in my mind’s eye those grand old steamships of days gone by. All gone now, but their memory. Mr. Maxton-Graham’s parting words still beckon us to experience the thrill of an ocean voyage: “On sailing days in high summer, there is the same quickening of the pulse as the ship’s whistle thunders overhead. Once clear of the port, the same brilliant sea light dances on the cabin ceiling; in midocean, there is a delightful insouciance, for both Europe and America are still happily two days away.”
Bon voyage, my friends.
