When United States entered the English Channel, Manning dropped the ship’s speed to 20 knots. The channel was always crowded and dangerous, but the weather was clearing and vessels of all shapes and sizes were positioning themselves to get up close to the new Blue Riband holder of the Atlantic. Leaning over the rail as the ship sailed through the Le Havre breakwater, Laura Franklin saw dozens of boats, “all decorated with American flags, and signs saying ‘Congratulations to the Big U.’” United States acknowledged them with “several blasts of her very unladylike ship’s horn,” Laura said.47
French tugs eased the new liner into her berth at 1:24 P.M. on July 7. Her continental passengers disembarked and boarded the Boat Train for Paris. More than five hundred French guests came aboard for breakfast the next morning, at which General Franklin was to speak. After several minutes of bad French, Franklin left for the smoking room and ordered a double scotch.
The bartender told a frazzled Franklin it was one of the best speeches he had ever given: “the French couldn’t understand you and neither could the Americans.”48
At 12:46 P.M. the next day, United States passed through the Le Havre breakwater for the two hour cross-channel trip to Southampton, England.
“The journey across the Channel was made on a beautiful sunlit day,” Matthew Forrest wrote. “There was a brisk wind blowing too much for the dressing of the Ship with the I.C.S Code flags…. We crossed at a good rate of speed, possibly to give all the shoreside visitors who had not crossed with us a little idea of what the ‘Big Ship’ can do.” When United States passed the Nab Lighthouse and entered “Southampton Water,” Forrest, along with others standing at the rail, was amazed by “one of the greatest collections of small craft I had ever seen…. Sailing yachts, power cruisers, excursion boats and even outboards. All were crowded up to the gunwales with people. All gaily decorated with flags and blowing their horns and whistles for all they were worth.”49
As the liner approached, streamers and confetti flew out of the windows of the Ocean Liner Terminal, as thousands of people lined the docks. The people of England, who had produced the great ships that inspired young Gibbs, stood in awe at the spectacular new American masterpiece.
George Horne cabled his account of the reception of the great vessel’s arrival in Southampton to the New York Times. “This is a port that loves ships and England is a nation that loves them,” he wrote. “The people sometimes considered reserved in their public demonstrations dropped the barriers and let everything go. Along the Solent, along the Hampshire countryside, along the beaches, on crowded piers, in open green fields, masses of people were standing to say to United States, ‘Welcome, Welcome.’”50
Telegrams flooded into the radio room. Prime Minister Winston Churchill cabled the United States: “Congratulations on your wonderful achievement.”
Gracious in defeat, Captain Grattidge of the Queen Mary wrote Manning: “Godspeed. Welcome to the Atlantic. Am sacking my chief engineer.”
Manning wrote back: “I’ve still got more speed up my sleeve—we were just cruising.”51
As the ship moved into her dock and the Southampton longshoremen secured her lines, those watching from the deck of United States were surprised by the warmth of the British reception, especially after their Queen Mary had just given up the Blue Riband. Not only that, the Mary’s running mate, Queen Elizabeth, had to leave a day ahead of schedule to make room for United States.
“As we approached,” Forrest wrote, “we could see the various levels covered with people. They had even arranged for them to be on the roof of the 1,500 foot long building. There was a big banner which said ‘WELCOME’ and another one which said ‘GOOD LUCK TO THE NEW SHIP.’”
James Black, a Scotsman who worked in the Gibbs & Cox model shop, stepped out onto the forward hatch, carrying a set of bagpipes under his arm. “At this sight,” Forrest said, “those on the dock burst into cheers. The band on the dock played, the Ship’s Orchestra on the Promenade Deck played, the Piper played and everyone cheered, so it was quite a noise that greeted the United States.”52
At this, the greatest moment in his life, William Francis Gibbs faced the newsreel cameras. “It’s a great pleasure to be here this morning, on this ship,” he told the world, “and it also gives me a feeling of humility in having the responsibility of the hopes and aspirations of my fellow citizens that have been embodied in this ship.”53
For the failed lawyer from Philadelphia, now heralded as America’s greatest naval architect, the moment couldn’t have been sweeter. As he stood on the bridge of the finest ship in the world, William Francis Gibbs looked down at the cheering British crowds on the docks below. He then turned to look at the decks of the ship and saw hundreds of wildly waving passengers and crew. Finally, he looked up at the massive red, white, and blue funnels that towered over him and then at the Stars and Stripes that fluttered from the radar mast. On July 8, 1952, this reserved, introverted, and driven man could now proudly wave his hat to the cheering crowds and bask in the glory that was rightly his.
25. MASTERS OF VICTORY
When United States left Southampton on July 10, all on board were confident the ship would also take the westward speed record, and so the new crop of passengers, including comedian Milton Berle, were relatively subdued. Some lobbied General Franklin to lash two silver brooms to the ship’s radar mast as a symbol of a “clean sweep.” Franklin refused, but he did allow for a forty-foot-long blue pennant, symbolizing the Blue Riband, to be hoisted once the ship entered New York harbor.
Sometime during the maiden voyage, Vera Cravath Gibbs ducked out of a party and went back to her stateroom for some peace and quiet. It had been over twenty-five years since Vera, then a young divorcée and daughter of New York’s most powerful lawyer, first spotted an awkward, grave-looking man standing by himself at a cocktail party. She at first found him odd, but soon discovered that the man had only one thing in life he wanted to do: to design the finest, fastest ship in the world. She had been part of every setback and triumph her husband experienced during their marriage: the scrapping of Leviathan, the war-profiteering charges in 1944, the months of perfecting Design 12201, the disputes with the Truman administration, the launching, and, finally, the spectacular, history-making maiden voyage.
“The trip of trips was now drawing to a close,” Vera wrote in her diary. “I look back on the weeks, months, and years that W.F. spent on the S.S. United States. I wonder how his enthusiasm remained undiminished. The series of disappointments he had to face, the political battles he had to face, all those went on for so long. Those aggravations kept repeating themselves, with slight variations, over and over again. What I always wondered was why the wellspring of W.F.’s enthusiasm didn’t dry up. I am reminded of what Edmund Burke wrote: ‘The nerve that never relaxes, thought that never wanders, the purpose that never wavers, these are the masters of victory.’”1
United States passed the Ambrose Lightship at the entrance to New York harbor at 4:29 P.M. on July 14. Even though prevailing winds and currents made westbound crossings more difficult and slower than eastbound ones, United States still averaged 34.51 knots, making the trip in 3 days, 12 hours, and 12 minutes—fully 9 hours and 36 minutes faster than Queen Mary’s best westbound time.