SS United States bears a lesson on its way to the deep
The SS United States is towed down the Delaware River from Philadelphia in February 2025. Credit: AP/Matt Rourke
They sank the United States last week.
That's not a metaphor.
The vaunted SS United States, christened in 1951 and still the fastest ocean liner ever built, was scuttled Wednesday night in the Gulf of Mexico. It was the culmination of a $13.5 million plan to turn a vessel that was longer than the Titanic into the world's largest artificial reef. But its poignant denouement, streamed live online, represented much more than the sinking of an old ship.
It was, most simply, a reminder that nothing lasts forever, even a vessel designed to be unsinkable. The timing of this lesson was interesting, coming during a week that featured talk of a new political map for our nation, the demise of the Cybertruck, and the buffeting of previously untouchable tech giant Nvidia. The SS United States might have been the queen of trans-Atlantic crossings, but its status was relatively brief as jets overtook ships as the fastest way to get to Europe. Change is a constant, in other words, much as we might like some things to forever remain the same.
The SS United States was built at a time when America was ascendant. Flush from victory in World War II, military planners sought a new vessel that could transport troops during future wars and operate as a passenger liner in times of peace. Famed naval architect William Francis Gibbs was commissioned to design the ship but the military later pulled out of the agreement and the SS United States was used only for civilian purposes.
Its first voyage in 1952 — from New York City to Le Havre, France, and Southampton, England — was a sensation. The United States broke the record set by Britain's RMS Queen Mary with an average speed of nearly 41 mph; some reports put its max speed achieved in various tests at 48 or 49 mph. The regal liner's 1,700 passengers reportedly dined on caviar, roast duckling and smoked ox tongue.
On its return to New York, the 990-foot-long ship with its iconic red, white and blue smokestacks was escorted into the harbor by helicopters and a fleet of smaller boats and greeted by bands and thousands of spectators. A few days later, its crew was celebrated with a ticker-tape parade.
The SS United States made more than 800 trans-Atlantic crossings, carrying four former or future presidents, European royalty, and scores of movie stars and other entertainers and artists. But its final voyage came abruptly in 1969. Its long decline included several failed restoration attempts for purposes like a hospital ship and a floating condominium.
After rusting for nearly 30 years in a Philadelphia waterfront dock, it was bought by Okaloosa County in Florida for use as an artificial reef. And with that, the SS United States became a story of both death and rebirth.
After its smokestacks were removed to anchor a new museum and its shell cleaned of toxic materials, the ship was towed out into the Gulf and crews removed plugs in its hull to allow water to rush in. It began its slow descent as the sun dropped below the horizon. In the darkness, lights from boats that came to bear witness flickered along the rusted hull. In the shadows, you could almost see ghosts cavorting on the decks and conjure the old glory.
It was only in the final few seconds that the name "United States" splayed across the bow finally slipped beneath the surface.
Resting on the Gulf's floor, the SS United States is now the latest and largest of scores of artificial reefs in Florida. It will serve as a magnet for divers and fishers and a home for snapper, grouper, tuna, marlin and swordfish in a long and healthy chain of underwater sea life.
May we all be so lucky to have such a second act.
Columnist Michael Dobie is a retired member of the Newsday editorial board.
Michael Dobie is a retired member of the Newsday editorial board.
