rms titanic

Violet Constance Jessop (2 October 1887 – 5 May 1971) was an ocean liner stewardess and nurse who is known for surviving the disastrous sinkings of both the RMS Titanic and her sister ship, the HMHS Britannic, in 1912 and 1916 respectively. In addition, she had been on board the RMS Olympic, the eldest of the three sister ships, when it collided with a British warship in 1911.

  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Violet_Jessop

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/43839796346094470/

Santa Ana Register, California, April 15, 1912

The Seattle Star, Washington, April 15, 1912

Green Bay Press-Gazette, Wisconsin, April 15, 1912

The St. Louis Star and Times, Missouri, April 15, 1912

The Fort Wayne Sentinel, Indiana, April 15, 1912

Asbury Park Press, New Jersey, April 15, 1912

Coshocton Daily Age, Ohio, April 15, 1912

Bennington Banner, Vermont, April 15, 1912

The Alexandria Times-Tribune, Indiana, April 15, 1912

Evening Bulletin, Honolulu, Hawaii, April 15, 1912

Harrisburg Telegraph, Pennsylvania, April 15, 1912

The Richmond Item, Indiana, April 15, 1912

The Evening Review, East Liverpool, Ohio, April 15, 1912

The Eagle, Bryan, Texas, April 15, 1912

East Oregonian, Pendleton, Oregon, April 15, 1912

The Indianapolis News, Indiana, April 15, 1912

The Eugene Guard, Oregon, April 15, 1912

Reno Gazette-Journal, Nevada, April 15, 1912

Harrisburg Telegraph, Pennsylvania, April 17, 1912

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the Titanic musicians

“I don’t suppose he waited to be sent for, but after finding how dangerous the situation was, he probably called his men together and began playing. I know that he [bandmaster Wallace Hartley] often said that music was a bigger weapon for stopping disorder than anything on earth. He knew the value of the weapon he had, and I think he proved his point.”

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The Day Book, Chicago, April 15, 1912

..the great White Star liner Titanic slowly is crawling toward this harbor.

They make thank a calm sea and the wireless that they are alive today.

The White Star office in New York issued an official statement that it would be impossible for the Titanic to sink, no matter how badly she might have been injured. 

Noooot quite… (it took until April 18th, the day the Carpathia - with the 705 survivors - docked in New York, before the full extent of loss of life was reported).

The 105th Annual Titanic Commemoration has begun.

Sync up your watches. Queue up your favorite version of the film. Ready your blanket fort.

Because this is the day where right now, somewhere in history, there’s a ship sailing on a still sea. Lights and reflected in new crystals, the gaiety of a sea side band echoes in dinning rooms filled with laughter and leisure. 2,200 hearts are beating. Humming a shared song of humanity. A chorus of unknown possibilities, of unlimited potential.

Somewhere in history, prayers have been said and children tucked into their beds. Lovers have strolled the decks of this new ship, their ship, a ship of dreams, Somewhere in history, in this tiny pocket, those dreams are still alive. Still whispered. Carried to see as their breath mixes with the sea air. Somewhere in history, those dreams are still sewn together with the possibilities of someday.

Two sailors look at the still ocean, a calm, unnervingly calm, sea. They don’t see it yet because it’s not there. Not in front of their eyes, not even in their thoughts. There isn’t the slightest chance that anything could separate them from their warm beds when their watch comes to an end. Certainly not an iceberg.

Somewhere men are playing cards. Nannies and turning the lights off and checking on their young charges. Somewhere the melody of the Marconi is still serenading the shore, Families are still together.

And those are the moments that we choose to live in. To Savor. Because we know what is to come, but for a few moments, we all try to hold on to the somedays. The what could happen. The what might have been. We don’t want to remember what happened, We want to hope that this time, they’ll see it. This time, they’ll clear it. This time the rudder will be larger. This time the bulkheads go up one more deck. This time they’ll never need to worry about the shortage of boats as they won’t be needed.

But we all know better.We know it can’t change. We know that even this pocket of history is not immune to the finality of time.

So we find our way to process. We find our way to remember. Our way to never forget

After all, It’s been 105 years, and we can still smell the fresh paint.

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April 14th 1912: Titanic hits an iceberg

On this day in 1912, at 11.40pm, the RMS Titanic hit an iceberg. The Titanic was the largest and most opulent passenger liner the world had ever seen, attracting notable dignitaries to its maiden voyage from Southampton to New York. The vessel was built in Belfast for White Star Line, with the intention of trumping the company’s rivals at Cunard. The Titanic was lauded as an ‘unsinkable’ ship, but subsequent examinations have suggested some fatal flaws in the ship’s design, in addition to a lack of lifeboats, which only could accommodate half the passengers. Just four days after setting sail, on April 14th at around 11.40pm, the Titanic hit an iceberg. The collision caused a massive gash in the ship’s hull, dooming the vessel to sink. As the ship filled with water and slowly sank, its over two thousand passengers rushed to lifeboats. The panicked evacuation was haphazard, with lifeboats lowered despite not being at full capacity. The ship’s final hours saw a number of particularly touching stories, including the elderly Straus couple who stayed in their cabin to die together, the violin players continuing to perform as the ship sank, and Benjamin Guggenheim changing into his formal dress and declaring “We are dressed in our best and are prepared to go down like gentlemen.”  The Titanic finally sank at around 2.20am, leaving thousands to die of hypothermia in the freezing ocean. Over 1,500 people died in the tragedy, with around 700 survivors rescued by the Cunard’s Carpathia. The demise of the ‘unsinkable’ Titanic shocked the world, and the tragic fate of a symbol of early twentieth-century optimism continues to captivate people’s imagination.

Sometimes when I’m doing my research… reading about this ship and her crew. About the passengers crowded around the boats. Walking down Scotland road or the stokers and the greasers…

I can almost see her rivets.

I can almost smell that fresh paint.

I’ve caught myself lost in her corridors, white paneling that I can almost feel.

The chill off the water as it invades.

It’s almost too​ much sometimes.

How can you miss a place you’ve never seen?
Long for the warm smile of a person you’ve never met?

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In every age, mankind attempts to fabricate great works at once magnificent and impossible. On desert sands, from mountains of stone a pyramid, from flying buttresses alone a wall of light, a chapel ceiling screaming one man’s ecstasy, one man’s ecstasy. Miracles them all, China’s endless wall, Stonehenge, the Parthenon, the Duomo, the aqueducts of Rome. We did not attempt to make with mammoth blocks of stone a giant pyramid. No, not a pyramid, nor gothic walls that radiate with light. Our task was to dream upon and then create a floating city. Floating city, a human metropolis, a complete civilization. Sleek and fast; at once a poem and the perfection of physical engineering. At once a poem and the perfection of physical engineering.