A disaster was unfolding along the New Jersey coast in the early morning hours of September 8, 1934. The SS Morro Castle, flagship of the Ward Line, was burning out of control in the middle of a fierce storm. Spectators on land could see the orange glow clear as day. Only one SOS call had been sent out, which was relayed to the Coast Guard. Other vessels started making their way towards the blazing ocean liner.
Onboard the Morro Castle was panic and confusion. No one seemed to be in control. Passengers were largely left to fend for themselves aboard the blazing ocean liner. The ship’s new acting captain was not prepared to deal with this situation. It seemed to some that he was in another world. The Morro Castle’s longtime captain had suddenly and mysteriously died just a few hours before the blaze. Shortly before his death, he’d said that he was afraid someone was going to kill him and sabotage the ship. Now the captain was dead, and the Morro Castle a raging inferno.
All of this occurred 90 years ago today.
The Morro Castle story is one of tragedy, mystery, and exploitation. The disaster unfolded alongside a comedy of errors that would probably be hysterical if it weren’t so awful. Despite being a media sensation and the subject of several high-level investigations, the exact cause of the Morro Castle remains unknown.
This blog series is dedicated to the victims of the disaster.
The Pride of the Ward Line
Thanks to the Merchant Marine Act of 1928, the federal government was offering low-interest loans to US shipping companies to replace old and outdated ships. The New York-based Ward Line jumped at the opportunity to revamp their fleet. With this funding, they ordered two brand new, state-of-the-art ocean liners. These identical ships would become the Morro Castle and Oriente. Their purpose was to run mail, cargo, and passengers between the United States and Cuba on a tight weekly schedule.
Both ships were built at the Newport News shipyard in Virginia. The Morro Castle was launched on March 5, 1930 to great fanfare; Oriente followed a few months later on May 15th. The new ships were 11,520 GRT and measured 508 feet in length. Both were built with sleek lines and had a classic counter stern. Interestingly, they also featured a bulbous bow. This was unique at the time but is now ubiquitous on cruise ships today. General Electric provided the ships’ turbo generators, and both vessels had turbo-electric transmissions. Morro Castle and her sister were capable of sailing at 20 knots (23 mph; 37 km/h). Submarine signaling equipment and direction finding were also installed (though these were becoming obsolete and were removed on Morro Castle by 1934). The Morro Castle and Oriente were grand pieces of marine engineering.
The sister ships were luxuriously appointed and could carry a total of 489 passengers. To serve their needs would be 240 crew members. Exquisite and ornate wood paneling decorated the various public spaces, like the dining room, ballroom, and writing room. Lacking air conditioning, the designer came up with an ingenious “Sea Cooled” ventilation system by which sea air was drawn in and circulated throughout the ship.
Safety was, naturally, of the utmost importance. Morro Castle and Oriente each carried 12 lifeboats capable of holding around 2,000 people. Memories of the Titanic were still very fresh 15+ years later. In addition, the Morro Castle and Oriente featured electric sensors to detect fires throughout the ship. The ships’ fire doors would close automatically if smoke or fire were detected. In addition, a total of 42 hydrants were strategically located around the ship to help fight any conflagration. The magazine Marine Engineering even stated the Morro Castle and Oriente were “the safest ships afloat.” The Ward Line embraced this label wholeheartedly.
The Morro Castle was to become the Ward Line’s flagship. For this reason, it would need the right man for the job.
Captain Robert Renison Willmott was a legend in his own right. He was a respected and experienced mariner with nearly 30 years of experience in the Ward Line. He previously commanded the first SS Morro Castle until its retirement in 1924. Willmott would become synonymous with the brand-new Morro Castle during its brief career.
Robert Renison Willmott was born in England. He emigrated to the United States in 1904 and eventually made his home on Long Island. He lived at the shipyard while the new Morro Castle was being built and absolutely loved the new liner. He put himself to the task of getting to know her. Willmott poured over deck plans and schematics and gained an encyclopedic knowledge of the ship. Captain Willmott told friends that the Morro Castle “was like one of my own.”
The English-born mariner also excelled at the social aspects of being an ocean liner captain. This was rare among his contemporaries, who’d rather face a nor’easter than entertain passengers at dinner. Willmott was charming, charismatic, gregarious, and a fantastic storyteller. The captain was famous for his stories about rounding Cape Horn, his first job as a deckhand, and coming to the United States. In later years, he would talk with relish about navigating the Morro Castle through a hurricane for two days with little more damage than “a couple of wet towels.” Passengers clamored for a chance to talk with him, and being invited to sit at the captain’s table was the ultimate privilege. Captain Willmott was a big part of the Morro Castle attraction.
The Morro Castle set sail on her maiden voyage on August 23, 1930 and made it to Havana, Cuba in just under 59 hours. Her return trip back to New York was even better at 58 hours. The new liner was a success.
For the next four years, the Morro Castle would be an escape from the hard realities of the Great Depression. The Morro Castle would almost always sail at capacity, due in part to exceptionally affordable fares. The fact that alcohol was served aboard no doubt helped as well. In 1929, it had been determined that “the 18th Amendment applied only to the territorial waters of the U. S. for domestic as well as foreign ships.” Once the Morro Castle hit international waters, the drinks flowed freely. To all appearances, the Ward Line flagship was happy and carefree.
But appearances can be deceiving.
A Brewing Storm
As the Morro Castle sailed out of Havana for the last time on September 5, 1934, a storm was brewing. The ship started encountering the first signs of bad weather on the afternoon of September 6th. By the evening of the 7th, high winds and heavy rain battered the ship relentlessly. A nor’easter had developed off the Eastern Seaboard and the Morro Castle had no choice but to sail on.
But all was not well aboard the Ward Line flagship.
Captain Willmott was not his usual self. In fact, he hadn’t been for several months now. The captain’s health became a matter of rumor and speculation as he grew more stressed and irritable. He also seemed incredibly depressed. Even a brief vacation in August did little to help Willmott’s mood. There was genuine concern among his officers and most expected the captain to take a lengthy rest after this voyage.
By September 7th, Captain Willmott hadn’t been feeling well for several days. He took dinner alone in his cabin that night, like he had every other night that voyage. Passengers were incredibly disappointed. The captain later complained of stomach pains and Dr. De Witt Van Zile was summoned shortly before 7 pm.
“I am giving him some medicine and he is now taking an enema,” he said to Chief Officer William Warms on the bridge before heading out. This was not an uncommon occurrence, as the captain had suffered several “attacks” like this in recent weeks and months. But it was still disconcerting to the observers on the bridge.
At around 7:30 pm on September 7th, Chief Officer Warms entered Captain Willmott’s cabin (adjacent to the bridge) to check in on him. He wasn’t anywhere to be found. Noticing that the bathroom light was turned on, Warms approached and was horrified by what he saw: the captain was slumped over his bathtub.
He was dead.
Dr. Van Zile was quickly called back to the captain’s cabin. He gave the captain a heart stimulant but all efforts at resuscitation failed. Captain Willmott’s face had turned a ghastly blue that mortified all who saw it. The doctor examined the body and determined that the cause of death was a heart attack brought about by “acute indigestion.” An autopsy would undoubtedly have to be done once the ship got back to New York. Ward Line officials were informed of Captain Willmott’s death. The telegram was short and cryptic.
WILLMOTT DECEASED 7:45 P.M. ACKNOWLEDGE WARMS.
But something wasn’t quite right. Captain Willmott had confided to some officers that he was convinced someone was out to sabotage the Morro Castle and murder him. A small fire was even found in the liner’s cargo hold the previous voyage, and evidence at the scene suggested arson. The stress of all this couldn’t have helped Captain Willmott and likely exacerbated his health issues. The ship had been rife with labor problems for months and the captain suspected that there were “agitators” among the crew. Because of this, some of the ship’s officers suspected that the captain’s dinner of steak and vegetables that night might have been poisoned.
While the Morro Castle’s officers lived and ate reasonably well aboard, the same could not be said for the rest of the crew. Working conditions on Ward Line ships were deplorable and the food substandard. One former crew member, Colin Houston, later recounted, “The food…was abominable. I can remember one seaman carrying a plate of rotten fried eggs up to the bridge deck and shoving the plate in Captain Willmott’s face.”
Crew members were overworked and underpaid, and the Morro Castle alone had about a 50% turnover rate. Houston recalled that he was paid $10 a week as an able-bodied seaman. Steward Sirl Boggetti earned $45 a month catering to the Morro Castle’s passengers. As a deck officer, Chief Officer William Warms was paid $185 a month. But in the midst of the Great Depression, there were always more people available to fill frequent vacancies aboard the SS Morro Castle and her fleet mates.
The ship’s 2nd Radio Operator, George Alagna, had attempted to pass around a petition in the months before the disaster. He was accused of trying to start a strike and labeled an agitator and malcontent. But Alagna wasn’t the only one fed up with conditions aboard the Morro Castle. Despite being beloved by his passengers and officers, Captain Willmott was decidedly unpopular with the rest of the ship’s overworked and underpaid crew. Plenty of people aboard the Morro Castle would have had an axe to grind with the captain. But would any of them have gone so far as to actually murder him?
Chief Officer Warms assumed command of the Morro Castle and set to work bringing the ship home safely in the midst of a fierce storm.
The End of the Party
The Morro Castle’s passengers were informed of Captain Willmott’s passing at around 9 pm. Out of respect, Acting Captain Warms had the evening’s farewell dinner and other events cancelled. The mood onboard was understandably somber after this. Some passengers drifted in and out the various public rooms and made small talk. What a way to spend the last night onboard. But still, some passengers – determined to enjoy every last minute on the Morro Castle – decided to continue the party elsewhere. Others went to pack and go to bed. After all, they’d be arriving in New York early the next morning.
A fire was detected in the Morro Castle’s First Class Writing Room shortly before 3 am on September 8th. It had started in a storage locker that, to the untrained eye, looked as if it were part of the wall. The flames were bluish white and indicative of a chemical fire. Acting Captain Warms was informed, but he didn’t believe it was cause for major concern. He imagined that it was a small fire that could easily be extinguished. All the same, he dispatched a subordinate to go investigate further. The general alarm wasn’t raised at this time. It was a fatal mistake.
The Morro Castle was soon engulfed in flames amidships. Her beautiful, highly polished wood paneling fueled the hungry fire. In addition, her many coats of oil-based paint also added to the conflagration. Although the ship had 42 fire hydrants aboard, only six could be used at a time – but no one on the crew seemed to know this. There was no water pressure when they tried to turn the hoses on fast-developing fire. The Morro Castle’s automatic fire doors had been previously disconnected, and no one thought to manually close them. These errors would have tragic consequences.
To make matters worse, Acting Captain Warms still believed there was no danger and that his crew would put out what had to be a small fire. He never left the bridge to look for himself. Warms was still sailing the ship directly into a raging 20 mph (32 km/h) wind, which only fanned the flames more. The Morro Castle’s “Sea Cooled” ventilation system worked against her as more air circulated throughout the blazing ship. By the time Acting Captain Warms realized the extent of the fire, it was too late. He ordered the ship turned in an attempt to beach the ship but soon realized that this was hopeless. He ordered the Morro Castle turned again, but the hydraulic lines were severed by the fire at that moment. The Morro Castle was drifting helplessly in the midst of the storm. She was dead in the water.
The Morro Castle’s passengers began waking up and realized that something was very, very wrong. Some later claimed to have been awoken by the sound of running feet above them or in the corridor outside their stateroom. Others saw orange flames flicking around the outside of their portholes. Many were awoken by shouts and frantic pounding on cabin doors: sometimes these were crew members but other times it was fellow passengers. Chaos was unfolding.
The general alarm had finally been sounded, but it was so low and quiet as not to be heard for the most part.
The fire aboard the Morro Castle raged as passengers and crew attempted to escape the flames. Most passengers went to the stern while most crew members moved forward to the forecastle. Access to many of the lifeboats are cut off, although six were eventually launched (though mostly loaded with crew). This fact goes on to dominate the narrative of the disaster for decades…and still does largely. Other crew members, however, remained aboard and did their best to help passengers however they could. Some gave up their life jackets to women and children who needed them.
The fire raged with ferocious intensity. With the decks melting the bottom of their shoes, passengers had no choice but to jump into the roiling sea. There was some initial hesitation, but soon people were leaping off the stern in droves. Some were drawn into the still-churning propellers. Others avoided this grisly fate but were knocked unconscious and drowned or had their necks broken by their life jackets. Some people miraculously managed to avoid any injury at all.
Only one SOS call was sent out before the power went out. The message was picked up locally and relayed up to the Coast Guard. Other rescue ships began moving to the scene. They picked up some Morro Castle survivors, but many had been washed away from the blazing ship. Some people reached the shore and were brought in by lifeguards. New Jersey’s governor, Harry Moore, even flew over the scene and helped locate survivors in the swells.
To avoid drifting, the Morro Castle’s starboard anchor had been dropped. It was decided to try and tow the still-burning ship. But first the massive anchor cable had to be cut. Lacking any sort of power tools or torches, crew members on the forecastle worked for hours to cut the thick chain link cable with hand files. Hours later, they’d cut through and the Morro Castle was free to be towed.
However, these attempts failed. The Morro Castle broke free of her towline and was again drifting. She eventually ran aground at Asbury Park, New Jersey. The smoldering wreck nearly hit the city’s convention center as it did so. And then, finally, the Morro Castle came to rest. Stunned onlookers flocked to the shoreline to stare at the smoldering hulk before them. It was a scene that few of them would ever forget.
As the Morro Castle continued to burn and smolder at Asbury Park, things were about to take an even more macabre turn.
Part II of this series will be posted on September 10th!
References
- Big Old Boats. “SS Morro Castle: The Fire That Changed Ships Forever.” YouTube, 30:04. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGQaK2JPAk0/.
- Burton, Hal. The Morro Castle: Tragedy at Sea. New York: The Viking Press, 1973.
- Hicks, Brian. When the Dancing Stopped: The Real Story of the Morro Castle Disaster and Its Deadly Wake. New York: Free Press, 2006.
- Shipwreck Sunday. “The Fire & Destruction of SS Morro Castle.” YouTube, 20:52. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeyMvBD4DVY/.