Last year for Pride Month, I wrote a post about the LGBTQ+ history of RMS Titanic. This year I wanted to focus on RMS Lusitania and her stories.
Lusitania was one of the most famous ships in the world when she was torpedoed and sunk by U-20 on May 7, 1915. The ship was a microcosm of Edwardian society, carrying passengers from all backgrounds and walks of life. It’s almost certain that LGBTQ+ people were also present, even if their identities were not publicly acknowledged at the time.
The Lusitania left New York City on May 1 with 1,960 passengers and crew aboard. With World War I in full swing, the Imperial German Embassy published a notice in dozens of American newspapers the day before Lusitania set sail:
Notice!
Travellers intending to embark on the Atlantic voyage are reminded that a state of war exists between Germany and her allies and Great Britain and her allies; that the zone of war includes the waters adjacent to the British Isles; that, in accordance with formal notice given by the Imperial German Government, vessels flying the flag of Great Britain, or any of her allies, are liable to destruction in those waters and that travellers sailing in the war zone on the ships of Great Britain or her allies do so at their own risk.
Imperial German Embassy
Washington, D.C. 22 April 1915
Many of Lusitania’s passengers and crew actually saw the notice but paid it no mind. Of the 1,960 people aboard Lusitania, 1,193 died in the sinking.
LGBTQ+ people—lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer/questioning, and more—have often been unable to live and love openly throughout history. This was due to social, legal, and cultural reasons. While we can’t know for certain how any particular passengers on Lusitania might’ve identified themselves, we can make educated guesses. We do know that LGBTQ+ people have always existed, making it highly likely that some of these passengers would’ve identified with this community if they’d been free to do so.
All said, here are four passengers from the Lusitania who may have been LGBTQ+ during a time when it wasn’t widely accepted.
Leo Schwabacher & Henry Sonneborn
Leo Schwabacher and Henry Sonneborn met in 1900 in Baltimore, Maryland, where Leo rented a room above Henry’s family tavern. They hit it off, bonding over a shared love of art and music. Their friendship quickly turned into a lifelong partnership. Researchers tend to agree that Leo and Henry were likely in a relationship. They traveled together often, lived for a time in Paris—a rare refuge for gay men at the time—and even described themselves as “married” in official documents at one point.
The Sonnenborn family loved Leo, who also went by Lee, and treated him like a second son. There was apparently complete acceptance of the relationship. During their travels, the two sent numerous postcards to Henry’s nephew, Herman, in Baltimore. Some were written in Henry’s handwriting, others in Leo’s. Almost all were signed with “Love, Uncle Henry and Lee.”
In Spring 1915, anticipating another European journey, Leo and Henry revised their wills to name each other sole beneficiary and purchased a shared mausoleum—perhaps a gesture of permanence in uncertain times. Despite Henry’s mother, Wilhelmina, pleading with them to cancel the trip due to the U-boat threat, they boarded the Lusitania on May 1, 1915.
Leo Schwabacher and Henry Sonneborn shared stateroom B60 during the voyage. They reportedly kept to themselves, prompting suspicions that they were German spies. Although both men were of German ancestry, the truth was even more perilous: they lived as a gay couple at a time when the law criminalized homosexuality and punished it with imprisonment, hard labor, and social ruin.
Both Leo and Henry died in the sinking, and if anyone recovered their bodies, no one ever identified them.
Theodate Pope
Born Effie Brooks Pope in 1867, Theodate Pope was the only child of a wealthy Ohio industrialist. At 19, she renamed herself Theodate after her grandmother, signaling an early desire to forge her own path. Though she became a pioneering architect—the first woman to earn a license in New York and the sixth in Connecticut—she struggled with deep inner conflict throughout her personal journey.
Uncomfortable with traditional expectations of marriage and motherhood, Theodate experienced complex feelings around love and identity. In her early life, while studying at Miss Porter’s School in Farmington, Connecticut, she fell head over heels for a fellow student named Laura. “Will she ever love me?” Theodate wrote in her journal.
Later, the two women spent a night together. “I only slept about an hour and a half,” Theodate recorded afterwards. “I am just so happy today, it has changed the whole tenor of my mind.” But it wasn’t to last, and the relationship eventually ended. Theodate fell into a deep depression that led her to undergo electroshock therapy.
Professionally, however, Theodate flourished. She designed her family estate, Hill-Stead (now a museum), and founded Avon Old Farms and Westover schools. In 1920, she oversaw the reconstruction of Theodore Roosevelt’s birthplace in New York City. Theodate Pope thrived in her chosen career.
Theodate was an ardent spiritualist and a major member of the American Society for Psychical Research. Following a bitter disagreement with the organization’s president, Professor James Hyslop of Columbia University, she resigned and sought to form her own organization—the Massachusetts Society for Psychical Research, to be led by Professor Edwin Friend. Theodate invited Friend to London to meet members of the English Society for Psychical Research and get their blessing for the new organization. She and her maid, Emily Robinson, boarded the Lusitania with Edwin Friend.
Theodate Pope narrowly survived the sinking of the Lusitania. She, Friend, and Robinson all entered the water together—but the others didn’t make it. Friend and Robinson’s bodies were never recovered or identified. Theodate, presumed dead, drifted in and out of consciousness as the trawler Julia pulled her from the sea. Fellow passenger Belle Naish saw signs of life and alerted the crew. It was a traumatic experience, but Theodate eventually recovered from her ordeal.
The following year, Theodate Pope married diplomat John Wallace Riddle and traveled the world with him. She died on August 30, 1946—a woman ahead of her time.
Margaret Mackworth, 2nd Viscountess Rhondda
Margaret Haig Thomas Mackworth, later Viscountess Rhondda, was a pioneering Welsh feminist and suffragette. Born in 1883, she defied early 20th-century gender norms through activism, was jailed for blowing up a Royal Mail postbox in 1913 in the name of women’s suffrage, and founded the feminist magazine Time and Tide.
At the time of the Lusitania disaster, Margaret was in a troubled marriage to Sir Humphrey Mackworth, 7th Baronet. His conservative views ran counter to her more liberal ones. Her father, D.A. Thomas, 1st Viscount Rhondda, saw the unhappiness in his daughter’s marriage. As his daughter was serving as his confidential secretary, Thomas had her accompany him to the United States when then-Secretary of State for War David Lloyd George tasked him with securing munitions for Britain. They were returning home on the Lusitania when U-20 torpedoed the liner.
Separated during the sinking, both father and daughter survived. Margaret leapt from A Deck into the rising water and drifted for hours, clinging to a wicker chair. As hypothermia set in, she lost consciousness. When the trawler Bluebell rescued her, the crew wasn’t sure if she was alive. They laid her on the deck to avoid overcrowding the cabins. She awoke wrapped in blankets, unclothed, and was helped into the captain’s cabin by three sailors, where she soon fell asleep. Still unconscious when they reached Queenstown, she was hospitalized and later spent several months recovering at her parents’ home in Wales.
Margaret recovered from her ordeal on the Lusitania. During World War I, she assisted Belgian refugees and later joined the government to promote women’s work in key industries, especially agriculture. When her father died in July 1918, she became the Viscountess Rhondda and tried (unsuccessfully) to take a seat in the House of Lords.
Margaret divorced her husband in 1922. She spent her later decades living with writer and editor Theodora Bosanquet, sharing a home with her for 25 years. While nothing is known for sure, it is presumed that they were in a relationship. Lady Rhondda managed her relationship discreetly, often using professional explanations to deflect scrutiny.
Lady Rhondda died on July 20, 1958, predeceasing Theodora by nearly three years. Her life illustrates the intersections of feminist activism, social change, and (likely) LGBTQ+ history in early 20th-century Britain.
The Unknown Stories
We’ve explored four individuals who may have identified as LGBTQ+ while aboard the Lusitania during her last voyage (or thereafter). But we can only speculate for the most part. That said, LGBTQ+ people have always been part of society so it’s very likely that some passengers on Lusitania were attracted to members of the same sex. It’s also very likely that they made up some of the ill-fated Cunarder’s crew.
Historically, many gay men sought refuge in the Merchant Navy, often working as stewards, waiters, or entertainers. This was likely true for lesbians as well. Life aboard ships like the Lusitania, Mauretania, and Olympic offered LGBTQ+ individuals a sense of freedom that they couldn’t find on land. It provided a reasonable explanation for their lack of spouses or families. In some cases, merchant mariners also had families on land while maintaining long-term same-sex relationships at sea.
Lusitania’s final voyage offers a lens to view the diversity of human experience, including the often-overlooked presence of LGBTQ+ people. These stories reflect the complexities of identity and the ways people have navigated their identities—whether on land or at sea. Acknowledging these narratives deepens our understanding of the past and honors the many lives that have contributed to the fabric of history.
Leave a Reply