Mr.
CHARLES EMELIUS LAURIAT, Jr., Saloon Class Passenger
The Boston Globe, Globe
Pequot Press.
Guilford, CT. Courtesy Carole Lindsay.
Charles Lauriat, Jr., 40, was of the Charles E. Lauriat Company,
booksellers, of Boston, Massachusetts. The company
was his father's. Lauriat was an amateur sailor. The last
voyage of the Lusitania was his twenty-third Atlantic crossing,
but his first on the Cunarder. Lauriat's cabin was B-5.
Lauriat was on an ordinary business trip, but he wanted to make
his trip as brief as possible. He knew that six of the ship's
boilers had been shut down, but the Lusitania was still the
fastest ship afloat.
When buying his ticket, Lauriat had been assured that the ship would be
escorted through the war zone. Even so, he and
his neighbor Lothrop Withington
agreed that as a belligerent ship, the Lusitania was likely to
be attacked.
Lauriat was consistently worried that the ship was traveling too slow.
On the first day, he noted that the ship logged 501 miles, and
the second day was disappointingly lower. He complained to
Withington, "At this rate, we're not going to make Liverpool on time."
He and Withington visited the smoking room for the third night out's
ship's pool, but did not buy a number. The pool was largely
popular and proceeds averaged £105 a day.
While on his way to dinner on the night of 6 May, he noticed that his
bedroom steward had drawn his shades and left a note for the night
watchman listing which portholes were open. After the
ship's concert, Lauriat finally bought a number in the ship's pool,
499, the highest available, for $15. He was confident that the
Lusitania would increase her speed for passing through the war
zone.
Previously that evening, Lauriat was also at a party thrown by George Kessler. Other guests included
Georgina Morell, Fred Gauntlett, Theodate
Pope, Edwin Friend, Isaac Lehmann, Fred
and Mabel Pearsons, and Staff Captain Anderson. Kessler had
pressed Anderson why Captain
Turner had given the passengers a lifeboat
drill.
"That is the Captain's decision." was all Anderson could say.
The foghorn awoke Charles Lauriat on 7 May. He had no intention
of getting up in such weather. Lauriat got up after the fog
cleared, shaved, dressed, and checked the day's run in the smoking
room. Disappointingly, the Lusitania had only
gone 462 miles. He decided to take a walk on deck before lunch
and noted that the ship was still only "lounging along" with the Irish
coast in view.
As he ate his lunch, Lauriat felt a breeze in the dining saloon.
Several of the portholes were open and Charles asked a steward to
turn off a nearby fan that was only making the draft worse.
He went back to his stateroom at about 1:30 to put on a sweater
before taking "a real walk."
On deck he met up with Elbert and Alice Hubbard by the port side saloon class
entrance. Earlier in the voyage, Elbert Hubbard had lent Charles
a copy of The Philistine, which ran an attack on the German
Kaiser, his essay "Who Lifted the Lid Off Hell?" Hubbard asked,
"Do you really think I'll be a welcome visitor in Germany?"
Hubbard had barely finished speaking when they felt a muffled impact,
and "the good ship trembled for a moment under the force
of the blow." They turned to see where the sound was coming from
and saw a "smoke and cinders flying up in the air on the starboard
side." A second explosion soon followed, but to him it seemed to
come from an exploding boiler, not a second torpedo.
Lauriat suggested to the Hubbards that they go back to their portside B
Deck cabin (B-70) and retrieve their lifebelts. Alice Hubbard
could not swim. To Lauriat's surprise, the Hubbards did nothing.
Elbert "stayed by the rail affectionately holding his arm around
his wife's waist."
"Stay here if you wish," Lauriat told them, "I'll fetch
some life-jackets for you."
Hurrying to his own "most forward" B Deck cabin on the starboard side,
Charles Lauriat grabbed his leather business case, tied on his lifebelt
and grabbed two more to give them to the Hubbards. Upon reaching
the Boat Deck saloon entrance, Lauriat found that the Hubbards were
gone. He waited for the Hubbards to return, but he was getting
impatient. An Italian family from third class consisting of a
grandmother, mother, and three children turned to Lauriat for help.
He put lifebelts on the grandmother and mother, and found another
for the oldest child. The family then proceeded to sit down on a
collapsible boat, quietly awaiting further instructions. To
Lauriat, the scene was "one of the most pathetic things" he saw that
day.
Looking around, Lauriat's attention turned to helping whoever else
might be in need. He saw that several people had their
lifebelts on incorrectly and sought to assist them; however, some
thinking that he was trying to take their belts ran away in terror.
Returning to his stateroom, he struck a match for light
as the electricity had gone out. He took his passport and
personal papers before making his way out. In a mere ten minutes
since the torpedo struck, Lauriat noticed how quickly the ship was
heeling over. He noticed that several of the portholes on the
starboard side were still open, causing the ship to flood more rapidly
than she would otherwise. He was amazed that the portholes had
not been sealed the moment that they sailed into the war zone.
The lifeboats were not proving to be a reliable means of escape.
He noted that the ensuing carnage "only added horror to the whole
situation[.]" He had no wish to jump into a lifeboat, but seeing
the commotion around lifeboat #7*,
Lauriat felt compelled to help. The lifeboat was still attached
to the ship and Lauriat jumped onto the small craft in an attempt to
loosen the after falls. He looked forward to see a steward trying
to cut the forward falls with a pocket knife. Lauriat tried to go
to the stewards aid, but the frenzied mass of humanity "was impossible
to climb through[.]" With a funnel looming threateningly over
them, Lauriat pleaded to others in the boat to jump as the lifeboat did
not seem to be able to be freed in time. Only a few listened and
giving up, he jumped over himself. He looked back at the lifeboat
as he guided those who had listened away from the sinking liner to see
the small craft and its screaming occupants be dragged under by the
mother ship.
In the water, Charles Lauriat felt a Marconi aerial slip by his head,
onto his shoulders, and push him into the water upside-down. Only
by kicking hard did he free himself. On the surface, he heard the
"long lingering moan" of those struggling in the water. He
managed to climb into a collapsible boat with Leslie Morton
and Fred Gauntlett and tried to raise
the boat's sides; however,
desperate
people in the water were clinging onto the sides of the boat, and they
were convinced the men meant to push them away.
They managed to raise the sides, but for oars they had to jump
overboard to look for as the collapsible had none. Samuel Knox
and James Brooks also climbed into the
boat. They continued to pick up more people in the water until
the boat had "sunk flush with the water." Next the boatload of
survivors rowed for the lighthouse on the Old Head of Kinsale,
continuing to
pull people in. As they rowed, Lauriat thought, "At least we have
a good crew."
The Peel 12 came to pick up the thirty-three on the raft.
Being on a solid deck again "felt as good as the front hall of
our own homes." Lauriat gave away his sweater to a scantly-clad
young man and his jacket to a woman who was wearing only a nightgown.
As the Peel 12 was overloaded with about 60 survivors,
many
of them, including Lauriat, were transferred to the Flying Fish.
Arriving in Queenstown, the Flying Fish was ordered not to
disembark its survivors until the captain had reported to the proper
authorities. Arguing in "language that was decidedly to the
point[,]" Lauriat told the captain that many of those on board were in
urgent need of food, shelter, and medical help. The captain
remained obstinate and left to find a harbor inspector leaving strict
instructions not to lower the gangplank.
As soon as the captain was gone, Lauriat and several others put the
gangplank over the side. A man on the dockside tried to stop
them, but Lauriat told the man that he had three seconds to get out of
the way. Lauriat and others still able then helped the
weaker ones ashore and called for medical help.
Lauriat roomed at the Imperial Hotel with three other men. The
hotel proprietress fed him whiskey and dried out his clothes
before he retired for a "dead, dreamless sleep." The Boston
bookseller awoke at 6 the next morning to cash a check for £40 to
help others who had come out the disaster much worse than he. The
teller at the bank refused, but upon Lauriat's insistence that he
needed the money for "about 12 half-starved, half-naked American that
needed
to be fed and clothed" the man finally gave in. After helping as
many as he could, he went to see if anyone he knew were among the dead.
He was glad not to have recognized anyone there, but unknown to
him his neighbor and traveling companion Lothrop Withington had died in
the disaster.
Passing the Cunard Wharf, Lauriat saw the Lusitania's lifeboats
lying there, numbers 1, 11, 13, 15, 19, and 21.
On 8 May, Lauriat took a steam packet across the Irish Sea, being one
of the first survivors to leave Queenstown. In the boat's saloon
he saw several Lusitania survivors sitting in the room in the
middle of the night with their lifebelts on. Many of
them were still wearing their belts from the Lusitania.
The next day, Lauriat was on the first train of survivors to
London, reaching Euston Station at 6:30 that morning. At the
station, Lauriat was immediately mobbed by reporters but refused to
give interviews. Relatives of those onboard the Lusitania
also immediately swamped them with inquiries. The best that he
found that he could do was to tell them that there were many other
survivors about to disembark from the train. Overwhelmed, Lauriat
was none-too-glad to find Ambassador Page's secretary meeting him and
asking if there were anything that could be done to help. Lauriat
was taken to the embassy where he met Page
and was offered accommodation. Lauriat politely refused and
stayed
at the home of a business contact in a London suburb, where he was
finally
able to take a much needed rest.
Upon Lauriat's return to Boston, he became president of the largest
book importing firms in New England. He was also paid $1000 for
lost luggage. That year Charles Lauriat published his own account
of the sinking, The Lusitania's Last Voyage. He
died on 28 December 1937 and is buried in Mount Auburn Cemetery in
Cambridge and Watertown, Massachussetts. Lauriat Books remained
in business with over 20 locations in Massachussetts, Rhode Island,
Connecticut, New Hampshire, and New York until it filed for bankruptcy
in June 1999. The company folded after 127 years due to
competition from large bookstore chains and internet booksellers.
* Although several accounts
say that Lauriat's boat was #7, his description of how the lifeboat was
dragged under does not match that of Mabel
Learoyd. In her account, she was in a starboard lifeboat
which was struck my another lowering boat and capsized, which could
have been lifeboats #7 and #9. Lauriat, then, could have been in
lifeboat #3.
Alternate senario: Lauriat is indeed in lifeboat #7 and the
"other boat" that caused Mabel Learoyd's boat to upset was a
collapsible filling the place of boat #5 that had been blasted off by
the torpedo.
Contributors:
Peter Engberg-Klarström
Michael Poirier
References:
Hickey, Des and Gus Smith. Seven Days to Disaster.
G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1981.
Hoehling, A. A. and Mary Hoehling. The Last Voyage of the Lusitania.
Madison Books,
1956.
Lauriat, Charles E. The Lusitania's Last
Voyage. Houghton Mifflin and Co., 1915.
Preston, Diana. Lusitania: An Epic Tragedy.
Berkeley Books, 2002.
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