Leaving Liverpool
By Jim Potter
On June 5, 1926, as Mrs. Gladys Gamble Parks prepared to board the RMS Scythia from Liverpool’s landing stage, she may have considered the many ships she had previously observed from the docks of Hull, her hometown. However, this time was different. Gladys was a traveler, not an observer.
The eighteen-year-old watched busy ferry boats crossing the River Mercy, dodging massive ships as squawking seagulls flew overhead and rode the waves that lapped and splashed against the docks and the hulls of ships. The smell of the sea, mixed with the smoky atmosphere of a coal-driven industrial city, reminded her of home.
Steam whistles from trains, ocean liners, and tugboats signaled their arrival and departure.
As the animated crew of the RMS Scythia prepared the ship to sail, they worked in high gear, part of a complex process.
A line of vans and lorries waited to be unloaded. Rolling luggage carriers filled with suitcases, cabin trunks, and wicker baskets were maneuvered manually while heavier luggage was transferred from the dock using hoists and slings.
Policemen controlled the crowd, helping the ocean liners enforce society’s strict social hierarchy. The wealthy, middle-class, and less fortunate, boarded the ship at different times using separate gangways.
Those traveling Third Class, also called Tourist Class, or Tourist Third Class, loaded first because their rigorous inspection during the pre-boarding process took the longest amount of time. Travelers could expect medical examinations, antiseptic baths, luggage inspection and its fumigation. Third Class accommodation, including the cabins and common areas, was comfortable and spacious, vastly improved from the days of mass immigration prior to the World War when traveling Steerage Class was cramped, unsanitary, and dangerous.
Gladys traveled Second Class, a comfortable experience offering a semi-private cabin, shared bathing facilities, and meals with a wide variety of dishes and multiple courses.
First Class travel on large ocean liners catered to the tastes of the wealthy elite. Advertisements compared the ship’s opulence to a floating palace or hotel. “Ornate public rooms, grand dining saloons, plush lounges and electric lighting, and amenities like a barber shop and libraries aimed to make the voyage pleasurable, not just bearable.”2
After the migrants boarded the ship, they were directed by officials to their cabins. White-coated stewards seemed to be everywhere as they asked passengers, “Your berth, ma’am? Yes, ma’am, this way. Your luggage? Oh, you’ll get that all right.”
Excited individuals and families said their emotional goodbyes, especially the immigrants beginning a new life.
I’m inclined to think that after two months saying goodbyes to her family and friends in Hull, Gladys may have run out of people to hug. However, given her personality, there’s a good chance she quickly made friends.
Finally, a bugle blew. Stewards announced, “All visitors ashore, please.” The ship’s siren blared, followed by its bellowing whistle that shattered the air with a blast that rattled the cabins. The gangways, or gangplanks, were raised by the ship’s booms and davits, and kept on the ship.
As the tugboats worked hard, the Royal Mail Ship slowly departed the stage while passengers waved frantically. Slowly, the Scythia turned and faced the outlet to the sea. Once free of the tugs, shesailed for Cobh (formerly Queensland), Ireland,, the only port call before its trans-atlantic voyage to New York City.
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1 Liverpool Post (Liverpool, Merseyside, England), June 4, 1926, 14.
2 “How Ocean Liners Transformed Travel: A Historic Perspective,” by History Tools.”1 5.26.24
3 UK and Ireland, Outward Passenger Lists, 1890-1960, departing Liverpool on June 5, 1926, enroute to New York City on the RMS Scythia, Ancestry.com
4 Ibid.
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