Historic tragedy has fascinated me for as long as I can remember - Custer at The Little Big Horn, the murder of Nicholas II and his family, the sinking of The Titanic. Each had first hand accounts by witnesses. Each continues to have the power over peoples’ imaginations to inspire the endless what-if scenarios. Each was seared into the memories of their time much as 9/11 is to us. And while each event remained strangely isolated and mysterious, the clues were there, waiting to be discovered. “Images of sorrow. Pictures of delight. Things that go to make up a life.”
Growing up, I remember seeing the British classic “A Night to Remember” numerous times on WGN (before it was a “super station”). Maybe because it was the late night movie, maybe because it was in black & white, maybe because at the time it was something I knew nothing about, I found the film to be more frightening than any slasher movie. In my teens I read “Raise The Titanic” finding it far fetched but it sparked my what-if’s. Who really knew what was down there. “Raise The Titanic” was made into a mediocre film but two scenes had me hooked – when the Titanic is found and when it is raised, a tad rusty and filled with water but amazingly intact, having sat at the bottom of the North Atlantic waiting to be discovered. In 1985 finding the Titanic is exactly what Dr. Robert Ballard did. The Titanic was more than a tad rusty, it was hardly intact and would never be raised as it had been in the film but it had been found. I devoured everything I could find. I watched every documentary. I read every article. A relative collected National Geographic and I remember begging him to give up the Titanic issues, which he graciously did. The gleaming black and white photographs of history were replaced by ghostly images that were both tragic and beautiful. I admired Dr. Ballard for his choice to leave the ship undisturbed. It was the final chapter.
No, it was just the beginning of the final chapter. I was horrified to learn that artifacts from the Titanic would be pulled from the sea and put on exhibit. I wasn’t sure why I felt that the Titanic was any more sacred than other shipwrecks. History is filled with grave robbers in all forms. The Titanic would be no different. I swore I would never see an exhibit of Titanic artifacts.
Never say never.
I was the only person in the exhibit. Well, it was 10am on a Friday at a historical exhibit in Las Vegas – of course I was the only person there!!! I was handed a boarding pass at the start of the exhibit with the name of a Titanic passenger. Her name was Miss Edith Corse Evans, age 36, a single woman traveling in 1st Class cabin A-29 on her way home to New York after a visit to family in Paris. At the end of the exhibit I would discover her fate.
SPOILER ALERT – if you plan on seeing the Titanic Exhibition and do not wish to read a review, stop right now and go listen to the newest “Greyhounds Make Great Pets” broadcast. I love seeing exhibits without any forewarning. I also hate those audio sets that are handed out. It detracts from the oneness of what you are seeing. An art or historical exhibit should be able to move and inspire you all on its own, without a recording playing in your ear, telling you what you are perfectly able to discover by simply opening your eyes.
The exhibit is set up to resemble movie sets. This is not as tacky as it sounds. In the beginning of the exhibit you learn a bit about the historical period, White Star Line and Harland & Wolff, the builders of the Titanic. The interiors switch from warehouse offices to the docks as the building of the Titanic progresses. Artifacts are mingled in with the background information. It’s interesting but slightly unimpressive. Already knowing the background of the Titanic, I was not sure if a Titanic novice would be as equally bored. Yet this gave me a slight feel of anticipation of what was to come as I climbed the gangplank into the main portion of the exhibit.
Walking down the hallway of lower deck cabins, I discovered just how uncomfortable the crew and 3rd class passengers must have been. The large area with many artifacts and room displays was more fascinating than I would have ever imagined. The biggest shocker for me was not to see these items, but to see them in color. For years the black & white photos of the Titanic captured my imagination but to give these items colors changes the entire perspective. Floor tiles, dishes, copper pots, marble fixtures, the elegantly simple 3rd class mug. The opulence of la belle epoc is tantalizingly hinted at.
Turning the corner, my mouth literally dropped open.
I stood before a one third size reproduction of the grand staircase of the Titanic. It was stunning. The artificial “natural” light from the domed skylight was realistic and almost blinding. However the souvenir photo op completely brought me back to reality. The idea of having a snapshot on the reproduced Titanic staircase, embossed with the exhibition logo reminded me why I was so against the exhibit in the first place. I continued through the exhibit, lights, sounds and documentation told me that the night of 14 April 1912 was fast approaching.
Was it getting colder? Had the lights dimmed? Looking through the porthole, I saw stars. I heard the ocean. My imagination was getting the best of me I thought as I opened the door. Or had it? A burst of freezing air hit my face as I walked into the darkness. Once my eyes adjusted I found myself on the Promenade Deck of the Titanic on that cold, moonless last night in one of the most creative illusions of exhibition staging. Being the only person there that morning, I closed my eyes and wondered what it must have been like. I knew the end of the story and yet I understood how everyone thought she was unsinkable. Through another door and around a dark corner, barely visible at the far end of the next room was the iceberg. Not “the” iceberg but an interactive example of what might have been.
I found the remaining part of the exhibit anti-climatic and portions bordered on ghoulish. Personal belongings of those both known and unknown gave the final portion of the exhibit the grave robbing quality I had always been leery of. The passenger list of the Titanic took up a huge floor to ceiling wall. I searched for Edith.
The Titanic is literally rusting away and estimates are that what remains of the ship will totally collapse in 45 to 60 years. For 95 years, the names of those who perished that fateful night have lived on. For many, their name on the ship’s manifest is the only record of their life. Long after I am gone, the dead of the Titanic will be remembered.
Miss Edith Corse Evans never arrived in New York.
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