Sailing On (April/May 2002 | Volume: 53, Issue: 2)

Sailing On

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Authors: Carla Davidson

Historic Era: Era 10: Contemporary United States (1968 to the present)

Historic Theme:

Subject:

April/May 2002 | Volume 53, Issue 2

The late 1990s saw the start of an immense building boom in cruise ships. Nineteen new ones arrived in 2001, and nearly 40 more are planned for the next two years. Most of these are enormous vessels, capable of accommodating more than 2,000 passengers. Filling all those cabins makes for an extremely competitive business, says Birch Coffey, an architect for Celebrity Cruise’s four new Millennium-class ships (a designation that, as with battleships, refers to the name of the first one delivered).

 

Coffey makes a comparison between the new builds, as they’re called in the business, and the floridly themed hotels of Las Vegas. “Never bore the passenger” is the cruise lines’ motto, he explains, as they seek to distinguish their products. For the 1,950-passenger Millennium, the line hired Coffey to create a small additional dining room gleaming with special touches of elegance that would justify an extra $25 tab per meal. Out of the blue, and well into the design process, he learned that a “very unassuming” attached house in a small English town near Manchester held an amazing architectural prize, about 140 linear feet of ornately carved walnut paneling from the White Star Line’s RMS Olympic, the Titanic ’s 1911 sister ship. The panels had been offered at auction but had failed to meet their reserve price, and now the owners wanted to sell them privately.

“We flew to England the next day,” Coffey says. “A team of us pulled up in front of the house in black limousines. We looked like the CIA.” The owners, who had bought the place some years before with the panels already installed, feared damage to their neighbors’ walls if the woodwork was sliced away. So, Celebrity bought the whole house and then sold it after successfully removing the prize.

 
 

How did these splendid fittings from the first à la carte dining room on the high seas survive intact for the best part of a century and then turn up in such modest surroundings? After her two-and-a-half-decade career on the Atlantic, the Olympic went to the breaker’s yard in the early thirties. In 1935, many of her furnishings were auctioned off at a gallery in a small town in the far north of England. Other bits and pieces ended up as firewood, but the former mayor of Southport, England, bought the panels and, in a yearlong project, installed them throughout her house. The latest inhabitants had heard rumors that their extraordinary walls had come from a German warship, but their son, thinking them simply too grand for that, did some digging in a Liverpool library and came up with the true story.

Re-creating the Olympic dining room on the Millennium posed some challenges for Coffey and his design team. For one thing, because the panels were three inches thick—a