It Was a Grand Time: Third Class Passengers and Their Life on Board the Titanic
By Slimane
Only a handful of third class passengers had shared their tales. Hundreds of lives and stories were lost, never to be told. The story of the poorest class is much richer than any research can show. Nevertheless, the author tried to collect as many accounts as possible and draw but a faint picture of this life
This is the second part of the article. It tells about the passengers’ experience on board the Titanic. To find out what brought them there, read Part I.
What Was Offered For Them
As the splendor of the Titanic’s first class attracted wealthy passengers, so did her third class accommodations. The steerage areas on most of the ships of the time were hardly better than your typical slums. With many travelling with families, people often huddled on decks, struggling to stay in their dismal cabins. Sadie Frowne, a Polish immigrant who moved to the States at the age of thirteen, recalled in 1902: “There were hundreds of other people packed in with us, men, women and children, and almost all of them were sick. It took us twelve days to cross the sea, and we thought we should die”.
In the meantime, the White Star Line had been raising standards for second and third class passengers ever since the 1890s. Understandably, to the experienced sojourners and first-time travellers alike, the Titanic looked luxurious. Indeed, the Irish Times wrote on April 16, unaware of the ship’s fate yet, that third class’ “easy chairs, card tables, pianos and settees reminded one of the first class accommodation on many liners twenty years ago.” The passengers themselves would agree. Like Marion Meanwell, who wrote to her friend: “In my view, nothing approaching the accommodation has been experienced in any of the previous journeys and nothing but a pleasant voyage is anticipated.”
Third class was the largest one: the liner could carry more than a thousand people there. And WSL did everything to make people travel by their ships. Not just the Titanic, but other liners as well. The hope was that people would get impressed by the third class rooms, then would opt to travel on a WSL ship again or recommend it to others. Word of mouth was a powerful force in advertising back then.
Third class cabins — located from D to G Decks, but mostly on E and F — were private and could fit between two to ten people, mostly two to four. Their spaciousness was questionable: Neshan Krekorian, an Armenian immigrant, claimed that he was “cooped up like a chicken” in his cabin. There were also open berths on G Deck forward for 164 people. Painted simply in white, their main drawbacks were constant noise and throbbing of the engines. Some people did find it soothing, however, or grew accustomed to it fairly quickly. Like people on the upper decks, third class passengers marvelled at how smoothly the ship moved. “You don’t know whether she is moving or not for she goes very steady,” David Bowen claimed. A few complained about the smell of fresh paint: Lillian Asplund, who was five at the time, remembered it and did not like it.
The passengers from cities were likely familiar with the custom of single men living separately from single women and families. This practice was particularly popular in New York, where there were houses containing solely bachelor flats. It was similar on the Titanic: single men stayed in the bow (forward) section of the ship, on E, F, and G Decks, and single women and families were in the stern (aft), on D, E, F, and G Decks. But there were likely some exceptions: as the authors of On a Sea of Glass have determined, several single young women who travelled with big groups, like Bertha Mulvihill and Maggie Daly, were probably housed in the bow. The stern cabins were better. Not only did they have mattresses and bed linens, including red and white blankets (men received just blankets and simpler, straw mattresses on metal bunks fixed to the walls), but they also were furnished with washbasins, filled by stewards. All cabins had radiators for heating, but, like first and second class passengers, those in third encountered some problems with heating. Berths were mostly 4 feet wide, lit by electricity and were well ventilated, but had hooks instead of wardrobes.
Surprisingly, only two bathtubs were offered to the third class passengers, despite their large numbers, both on D Deck. Surprisingly, only two bathrooms were offered to the third class passengers, despite their large number. Considering that immigrants were generally associated with spreading infections and diseases, it seems somewhat ironic. Still, not so long ago, steerage passengers were forbidden from washing altogether. Now they could stay clean and as long as they were contained in their areas, it was fine. And indeed they were. As was mentioned above, for health reasons, the law required to separate third class passengers by gates. Additionally, On D and E Decks were three lavatories for women and three for men.
Also despite the size, third class had only four public rooms. The dining saloon, on F Deck, was segregated, again and thus consisted of two rooms separated by a watertight bulkhead: the forward one for families or single women and the aft one for single men. But according to Amy Stanley’s letter, single men could sit with women and families. This is what she wrote: “We had a small table in the dining room. There was this lady and child, two single men and three married ones. We were rather amused because one of the married ones seemed frightened of the boat and when we reached Queenstown he got off and took passage back to England.” Passengers ate in two sittings, because the saloon(s) had a capacity of 473. They would receive table tickets that told them where they should sit. The passengers from the bow section dined in the aft saloon, and the passengers from the stern section dined in the forward one. Stairwells were the reason for it: the stairwell that faced the stern led to the forward saloon and vice versa. They were further divided by two shafts from boiler rooms. Partially panelled in pine or painted in white, the saloon’s walls were adorned with dozens of hooks for clothes (for it lacked a cloakroom) and posters of WSL liners — a bit of the same subtle advertising. Unlike its first class counterpart, it was furnished with long tables for up to 22 people, lined with movable chairs.
Options for breakfast (8–10 a.m. in forward saloon; 9–11 a.m. in aft saloon) included:
- Quaker Oats;
- milk (refrigerated, which would be a novelty to some, as well as ice cream);
- vegetable stew;
- liver and bacon;
- boiled eggs;
- smoked herring;
- ham;
- fried tripe with onions;
- jacket potatoes;
- marmalade;
- Swedish bread;
- bread and butter;
- tea or coffee.
Dinner (lunch; 12–2 p.m. in forward saloon; 1–3 p.m. in aft saloon) menu could feature the following:
- vegetable or rice soup;
- roast beef or pork with brown gravy;
- boiled green peas;
- boiled mutton;
- sweet corn;
- boiled or baked potatoes;
- pickles and apricots;
- cabin biscuits (crackers that helped ease seasickness)
- currant buns;
- ice cream;
- plum pudding with sweet sauce;
- bread and butter;
- tea.
There were also two light dinner options: what was called tea (6–8 p.m. for forward saloon; 7–9 p.m. for aft saloon), with dishes like stewed figs or cold meat, and supper (9–10 p.m. for both), which was also simple. For example, as the surviving menu shows, on April 14 gruel, cabin biscuits, and cheese were served. The Catholics who had been observing Lent prior to the voyage (Easter was on April 7, thus ending Lent) were probably very glad to see so much meat on the menu. Which, by the way, were in postcard size, so that they could be sent by mail — another marketing detail. At every meal, passengers could also enjoy fruits and fresh bread. Jewish passengers were supplied with kosher food made by a “Hebrew cook”, while the third class bakery offered an array of pastries. “The food we get here is very good but not so good as dear old home,” Dawid Bowen concluded on the first day of the voyage.
Doubtless it was a relief for many that they only had to pay for the ticket and not for every meal or tea they had on board, like was customary in hotels and inns. Just as refrigerated milk was a novelty for some passengers, not many of them were used to being served by stewards ready to fulfill their requests. It was possible for them to take hot drinks and some food to cabins. Lillian Asplund recalled how her mother brought coffee for her father who did not go to breakfast.
Between meals, passengers could socialize and relax in two main neighboring rooms on C Deck: General and Smoking Rooms. The General Room, on the starboard side and under the Poop Deck, featured “a number of settees, chairs, and tables” of teak, according to The Shipbuilder, while the walls were once again finished in white enamel. Like all other third class rooms, it looked bare, but there was a reason for it: hygiene. This is why you wouldn’t find any upholstery there. The checkered floor and posters on the walls contrasted this bareness in the two rooms (and a few potted plants in the General Room). The General Room served multiple purposes. The piano allowed to organize little parties or just some musical accompaniment to whatever was happening there. At 10 to 10:30 pm, the lights would be extinguished in both rooms, encouraging people to get back to their cabins.
Meanwhile the Smoking Room, on the port side, was identical in size and featured similar furniture, but was panelled in oak. It was solely for men who used it to smoke, play cards or maybe chess, and drink beer as there was a bar. Basically, it was like an average pub, but on board a ship.
But these rooms, with their multitudes of chairs, tables, and benches, did not leave any space for dances. That’s why the Open Space existed, on D Deck, spanning from port to starboard underneath the Forward Well Deck. Two staircases led to it from outside, or one could enter it via a staircase from E Deck. If the Smoking Room was a pub, then this space was a dance hall. It combined everything that the two main rooms were for: people came here to chat, have fun, drink, or play, whether music or cards, for there were tables and chairs, as well as a bar. Men would gather here in late evenings, when they were forbidden from going to the stern areas.
Although not a public space per se, on D Deck aft was the third class doctor’s office with a waiting room and a ward for quarantine.
Those who wanted to go outside had several options. The aft B Deck promenade was reserved for the third class passengers. So were both forward and aft ends on C Deck. The stairs from the Open Space led up to the Forward Well Deck, with a stairwell to first class (blocked by a gate and a sign), while in the stern, there was the Aft Well Deck. Well Decks had two cargo cranes each, because the hatches for Holds 2 & 3 and 5 & 6, respectively, were located there. Scotland Road on E Deck connected the two areas, which, by the way, would be avoided when the weather was rough as they were open to any wind. And it was windy most of the time. Additionally, one could climb up the stairs from the Aft Well Deck and go to the Poop Deck on B Deck, where passengers enjoyed the fresh air while the crew worked (so jumping off its end would be a bad idea). This area had benches, two more cargo cranes, and also a flagstaff.
Finally, there were two entrances and Scotland Road. The Main Entrance, from C to G Deck, was for women and families, since it led to the stern cabins. Passengers had to use it to access the Aft Well Deck and the promenade. Another third class entrance, which had small benches by the wall, unlike the main one, was for men in the aft of Scotland Road. This was the name of a corridor on the port side of E Deck. Apart from the steerage passengers, crew members used it when they needed to go from one end of the ship to another. It featured an entrance at which single men boarded (others boarded at the third class Main Entrance), and led to the Dining Saloon in its center and the Open Space. Stanchions kept passengers from getting into the crew quarters. These stanchions, just as the signs on decks, were easy to pass, but apart from the curious few, no one thought of going to the upper classes.
For those people that left behind their simple houses and small villages or towns the Titanic must have felt like a small city. Hot water, electricity, heating, unfamiliar food, the Atlantic voyage itself — all this was new to many on board. “This is a lovely boat, she is very near so big as Treherbert [the Welsh village],” described David Bowen in his letter to his mother, “she is like a floating palace, against you walk from one end of her to the other you are tired.” Doubtless, for many villagers the ship seemed especially huge. Even the officers needed some time to get acquainted with the labyrinth-like spaciousness of the ship, so one can imagine how difficult it was for ordinary passengers. Some of whom did not know English. The White Star Line had employed a German native Ludwig “Louis” Muller as an interpreter for the third class passengers and the stewards who had to communicate with them. Germans often served as stewards-translators on ships, because a large part of the immigrants were from German-speaking countries. Muller had served on the Olympic before and knew a few northern European languages. But he was alone, while there were dozens or maybe even hundreds of people struggling to understand what they needed to do or where they had to go. Of course, their countrymen, who knew English at least on some level, were there to help, too.
What Were They Doing
First thing that most of the passengers did was bidding farewell to their ports and maybe their families or friends. No matter how excited they were to go to America, melancholy prevailed on decks. While some were hoping to return one day, others knew that they probably had the last glimpse of the Old World, or even the old life. Once it disappeared in the distance, everybody went into the belly of the great liner, to find their cabins, possibly bumping into one or two nosy visitors on tour while the ship was in Southampton. There they would settle down and adorn the room with a few dear knickknacks that they took, or make sure that presents for their relatives were safe. John Kennedy, for example, boarded with whisky, ham, and bacon from Ireland for his brother and clothes for his nephews in New York. Then passengers could enjoy the journey.
Third class is associated with parties and fun for a reason. While we are not sure how many parties were held, or how massive they were, we know that they certainly happened. Remember who occupied third class: farmers, laborers, busy shop and pub owners, servants… Some of them had just finished a long journey over several countries or many miles. Suddenly, these hard-working people got a whole week when they didn’t have to do anything. And when working people didn’t need to work, they had fun. “Grand” and “fun” — that’s how the immigrants described their time on board the Titanic, with “games and quadrilles”. Once the Irish boarded at Queenstown, “they brought their music and dancing and singing was entered into,” Amy Stanley fondly recalled. The small group of Italians could rival them, it seemed. Here is another amusing recollection by Stanley: “In the afternoon, one of the men told me that the Italians was going to dance. I was anxious to see that, but it was a very strange dance. However, we cheered them on until they thought they had done something wonderful.”
On Sunday, April 14, Alfred Rush celebrated his seventeenth birthday. Fellow passengers threw a party in his honor, which he attended in his first pair of long trousers, like the man he was now, even though he was rather small. He even got an unexpected present from the purser: the man overcharged for his baggage and returned him sixpence. Coincidentally, Anna Sjöblom from Finland turned eighteen the same day. But she was too seasick and homesick and left the merry party early. “I played the pipes and there was a great deal of dancing and singing,” Eugene Daly told of that festive Sunday night in the General Room. A rat tried to join the party, but was promptly chased by boys.
People also celebrated freedom. The Armenians, for example, were happy to leave the oppression rule of the Turkish beys. It was similar for the Lebanese and Jewish passengers. Aside from them, young men and women who had left their families for the first time, enjoyed their first days of independence, even if they were chaperoned. The spaciousness and abundance of new faces would be quite intoxicating to some.
Third class was definitely very musical. After all, music was a piece of their culture that reminded them of home and always stayed with them. Eugene Daly brought his uilleann pipes and played “many native airs” on them, according to the Cork Examiner, while on the tender and then when the ship left Queenstown, filling the deck with the sounds of Erin’s Lament and A Nation Once Again. Musical instruments were trusty companions for many voyagers. Alma Paulsson had a mouth organ with her, which she treasured enough to take it during the sinking. The Lebanese had their mijwiz flutes. Argentinian William Ali travelled with some brass instruments, probably small ones. A professional musician from Lebanon, Al Amir Fares Chehab took an ud, because he was going to continue his career in America. Andrew Keane, an avid sportsman, carried not only his medals, but an accordion, too. At least two men had violins and used to play on deck with other steerage musicians. The piano in the General Room (passengers called it the music room) attracted lots of people, but they could form an entire band of their own. First and second class passengers had their quintet or trio. Those in third entertained themselves with the music they liked. “We had every kind of instrument on board to amuse us,” wrote Irishman Daniel Buckley in his letter. Thus, music and singing could be heard throughout the day in all third class areas, not just in the Open Space during parties.
It reached other areas, too. Lawrence Beesley recalled that he “often noticed how the third-class passengers were enjoying every minute of the time: a most uproarious skipping game of the mixed-double type was the great favorite, whilst ‘in and out and roundabout’ went a Scotchman with his bagpipes playing something that Gilbert says ‘faintly resembled an air’.” Whether this Scotchman was actually Irishman Daly, is unknown: there could very well be someone with bagpipes as well. Beesley did not sound very enthusiastic about these pipes. Postal clerks likely weren’t thrilled either. On the Olympic and Titanic, they were berthed on F Deck, and the Olympic clerks suffered the noise from the third class passengers, including music, even at night.
Life in third class wasn’t just partying, though. Of course, people made acquaintances. “The first few days of the voyage were glorious, and we made many friends,” Laura Cribb told the New York Evening Journal. First of all, passengers from the same regions got acquainted pretty quickly. The Lebanese immigrants occupied neighboring cabins, and so did several other groups. These groups usually huddled together in the Dining or General Rooms, sometimes listening to the more experienced among them and sometimes just chatting about everything. Certain passengers preferred to spend time with just one or two friends, or among their family. Like John and Catherine Bourke who “sat apart most of the day by themselves, talking and talking”, as their friend recalled. They were married over a year ago and evidently couldn’t get enough of each other’s company. There was a lot to discuss, after all: the plans for America were aplenty, what with the money received from selling John’s farm. He wanted to buy a few horses and become a teamster, but first to wait a little. She insisted that he had to decide quickly.
Apparently, at least one pair conversed between two classes. Beesley mentioned in his book a man whose wife travelled in second class. “He would climb the stairs leading from the steerage to the second deck,” he wrote, “and talk affectionately with his wife across the low gate which separated them.” The lady in question could be Susan Webber, though she was single. Yet two of her male neighbors and two family friends were in third class. She could talk with any of them. However, it’s more likely that the two that Beesley saw were actually Nils Johansson and Olga Lundin. They were engaged, and Nils, a machine smith, returned to Sweden specifically to take Olga to Chicago. She got too seasick in her third class cabin, and so Nils supposedly paid for her transfer into a second class cabin.
Those who knew other languages ventured to meet other people as well. Very different, often hardly understanding each other, they were united as future Americans. There was a lot to discuss, ask, and tell. It wasn’t often that these people could talk to someone from a distant, unfamiliar part of the world. Could hostility interrupt the pleasant voyage? Most likely. With so many different cultures, conflicts were bound to arise. Yet it appears that nothing too extraordinary of this kind had happened. A correspondent that disembarked at Queenstown (possibly Father Browne) saw how “on the crowded third-class deck were hundreds of English, Dutch, Italian and French mingling in happy fellowship.” And so people showed photos of their families and shared their hopes for the future. The voyage gave a good opportunity to learn language, too. Something that Eliezer “Leslie” Gelinski, a Lithuanian Jewish locksmith, probably did as he carried a primer on the English language in his jacket. Young men showed off their knife-handling skills or compared different tobacco and cigarettes. Young women offered each other ideas of what to do before marrying and demonstrated their rings, brooches, and lockets with photos or locks of hair of their beloved. Soon, third class rooms filled with exciting or sad tales, gossip, arguments, fortune-telling, and a bit of flirting. Even with stewards, perhaps, like Annie Kelly did. He helped her on the fateful night.
As there were so many families in third class, children (76 of them were on board) quickly formed friendships. Lebanese children, like Maria and Georges Touma, had their own hideout: an empty cabin near their own, where they played. The nine-year-old Frankie Goldsmith, unaware yet that any noisy crowd would remind him of the cries of dying people for the rest of his life, roamed the ship’s mazes with other English boys. Unfortunately for their worried parents, they couldn’t help their curiosity and, disregarding the signs, peeked into crew quarters and even into boiler rooms where they watched firemen singing while at work. Climbing the cranes on Well Decks seemed like a popular activity among kids. The decks were their gyms and playgrounds, and boys would scream into the big mouths of ventilators, to see whose echo was louder, and set different tests and dares, trying to conquer the ship’s equipment. This led to Frankie hoisting himself to the end of a crane’s arm, grasping the cable under his arm, and then dropping down. He did not consider that the cable was greased, so when he came to his cabin, his mother scrubbed his hands thoroughly. Maybe she sent him to the upper bunk for the rest of the day — he chose that bunk personally, like any reasonable boy would. But at least he made the sailors, who watched his struggle, laugh.
So many young men and women boarded the Titanic’s third class that they formed numerous groups. A company of English passengers featured, among others, Emily Badman, aged eighteen, and Edward Lockyer, aged nineteen. They appeared to have become quite close and walked together on open decks. It was a first voyage for both of them, and they had a lot to discuss.
Passengers in general enjoyed taking walks or just sitting outside, weather permitting, of course. They made sure to dress in their best, often newest clothes, but must have presented a curious sight. What with all of them being from different countries as well as from all walks of life, their clothes could range from excellent suits to homemade old dresses. But even the poor tried to follow fashion as best as they could, and women added accessories and simple jewelry.
Children enjoyed watching stewards who walked the dogs on the Poop Deck every morning and afternoon. On deck they played all sorts of games. “The kids are skipping about like skylarks,” shared Elizabeth Johnston in her postcard. Again, it was probably a display of entertainments from different countries and a chance to experience something new and unusual. Where there were big companies, the seven-year-old Meier Moor likely appeared. He had an important goal to accomplish: gather as many picture cards from cigarette packets as possible. The many smoking passengers eagerly gave him small pictures of cowboys or other characters.
Massachusetts-bound Irishman Jeremiah Burke performed a strange farewell to his homeland on April 13. He wrote: “From Titanic. Goodbye all. Burke of Glanmire. Cork”, put the note into a small bottle and threw it into the sea. It returned to Cork a year later. The bottle contained holy water and was given to Jeremiah by his mother for good luck. Why he did this remains unknown.
Perhaps at night those who braved the cold watched the stars. Sinai Kantor, a Jew from Russia, had a pocket telescope and certainly couldn’t resist observing the vast dark sky.
Speaking of the skies, or rather heavens, Catholics had a Sunday service to attend after breakfast on the 14th, conducted by two priests from second class, Father Thomas Byles (in English and French) and Father Joseph Peruschitz (in German and Hungarian). It’s possible that Christians of other branches also attended, and there were probably translators at hand. On Friday evening, Jewish passengers left public rooms to greet the Shabbat. In small groups, they prayed, recited the Kiddush over wine or challah (bread), and then had a modest, but festive meal.
All over the ship, in all classes, passengers and crew were eager to send one last letter or postcard to someone dear. The postcards would feature the Titanic herself, of course. Third class passengers posted several of them, as well as a number of letters, telling about their first impressions and promising to write soon again. Maybe some did it with the help from better educated voyagers as not all of them knew how to write well. Richard May from Devon sent a postcard to his sister on April 11th, writing: “Dear Ethel, Just a few lines to tell you that I have found Jack [John Perkin, Ethel’s fiance] and we are going on all right. We are having it fairly calm. Are we downhearted? No! Goodbye. With fondest love from your loving friend, Richard”. Eva Dean, who ran a pub with her husband in London, wrote a shorter message on her postcard: “Dear Mother Just a card to say we are enjoying ourselves fine up to now. Little baby was very restless. With best love, Etty.” William Lobb and his wife Cordelia also sent a card to William’s parents — their last one. It simply said: “Dear M & F [mother and father], This is a picture of the largest steamer built. We are both well. Love to both, Will & Delia.” Such kind of “letting-you-know” messages was very popular. Here’s another example from William Rogers: “Dear Friend, Just a line to show that I am alive & kicking going grand. It’s a treat. Yours, WJR.”
Sunday afternoon disappointed the passengers of the big liner with chilly and windy weather. “At night was almost too cold to be out on deck at all”, Elizabeth Dowdell thought, and no doubt this fact had saddened her, because she had her little ward to entertain. Few braved the cold, which only warm clothes and fast games could battle. Therefore, warm rooms grew popular even more. Thankfully, one had plenty to do inside, including some indoor sports. That day stewards gave out custom declaration forms to fill, which added to the considerable list of the papers that travellers had to worry about. But maybe most of them decided to leave it for later. It was the end of the week, the perfect time to have more fun.
“We had a grand time on the Titanic,” Daniel Buckley wrote. “We got very good diet and we had a very jolly time dancing and singing.” A chauffeur Ernst Persson agreed with him, writing: “Everybody was happy and content everyday for food and everything was the best we could wish.” Sunday, April 14, was another day on board the Titanic — and a birthday for two young people, of course. Gambling, music, singing, and partying continued until late evening. The noisy party dispersed after 10:30 p.m., “lively shouting and singing and doing everything,” as Gershon Cohen described. All third class areas got deserted, even though up the decks, two other classes were still enjoying themselves. In a couple more days steerage passengers were to continue their journey in the States. For now, however, they had a couple more days of freedom and vacation. Or so they thought.
Sources:
- Encyclopedia Titanica
- GG Archives
- Lawrence Beesley, The Loss of the S.S. Titanic (1912)
- George Behe, On Board RMS Titanic (2017)
- Richard Davenport-Hines, Voyagers of the Titanic: Passengers, Sailors, Shipbuilders, Aristocrats, and the Worlds They Came From (2011)
- Tad Fitch, J. Kent Layton, Bill Wormstedt, On a Sea of Glass: The Life and Loss of the RMS Titanic (2012)
- Richard Davenport-Hines, Voyagers of the Titanic: Passengers, Sailors, Shipbuilders, Aristocrats, and the Worlds They Came From (2011)
- Veronica Hinke, The Last Night on the Titanic: Unsinkable Drinking, Dining, and Style (2019)
- Walter Lord, A Night to Remember (1955)
- Geoff Tibballs, Voices from the Titanic: The Epic Story of the Tragedy from the People Who Were There (2012)
- John Welshman, Titanic: The Last Night of a Small Town (2012)
