Crunch!
Peter Jelley, who joined the Caronia for her maiden voyage has written to tell me more about the tug strike in New York.
Self-Docking Mishap at New York PST
Peter says…
Whilst browsing through the early years (here), I noticed you had mentioned the New York tug
strike in 1953; the pilots were also on strike.
The Captain of the Caronia was Capt. Thelwell, who attempted to dock the ship at Pier 90, port-side on. Unfortunately, the “Green Goddess” smashed into the end of the pier and caused serious damage.
The next day, Captain Sorrell, who was the Captain of the Caronia on her maiden voyage, berthed the Queen Mary on the opposite side of Pier 90 without a hitch. It was really something to see, a ship more than twice the size of ours docking by herself. The launches from the Caronia assisted by taking lines ashore from the Queen Mary.
An Unsnug Harbour
Time Magazine reported on 16 February 1953…
Even the gulls floating down the Hudson on chunks of ice seemed perplexed. In New York's great
harbour, the hoarse voice of the tugboat was stilled by a tugboatmen's strike.
Great ocean liners wallowed like harpooned whales. Without the usual fuming tugs to nudge them into their berths, the liners had to trust to luck and the seamanship of their skippers to make port. Some made distinctly unhappy landings, others got in safely but tensely, and only a skilled and daring few did the job as though it were nothing at all.
Early in the week there were two near-disasters that gave pier officials the jitters, threatened to close the port altogether. The 6,535-ton American Export freighter Extavia smashed into its Brooklyn pier, leaving a 100-foot section of jagged wreckage.
[Left:]
A page from a pocket brochure for the 1953 Round America Cruise.
Courtesy of the Braun Bros. Collection]
Then the Cunard Lines’ green-hulled Caronia knifed through 30 feet of ten-inch concrete and rammed right up to Pier 90s shed before it could be stopped and worked into its slip (estimated damage to the two piers: $150,000).
Next day the task of bringing in the big ships became vastly more complicated because longshoremen had decided not to cross the tugboatmen's picket lines. Steamship company office workers came to the rescue, many of them in natty business suits and overcoats as they lent a hand at the lines.
The Constitution, American Export Lines’ gem of the ocean, made it the awkward way. On the big liner's first attempt, the tide was wrong, and the Constitution drifted within a hand's breadth of smashing into its pier. Dangling anchors dropped with a screech, and with engines in full astern the big ship backed off. On the second try, after a tense hour and 15 minutes, Captain Bernt Jacobsen finally inched the Connie into its slip.
When the 81,237-ton Queen Mary made its way slowly up the Hudson toward the Cunard piers, all Manhattan watched breathlessly. The Mary, after a gingerly pass at Pier 90, finally muddled through, coming to rest amidships on the “knuckle” (pier end), and calling on the white-collar dockhands to pull her in.
The U.S. Lines’ America followed the Queen Mary's lead, pivoted in after 55 minutes.
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