Monday, March 7, 2016

The Terminal Factor



LXVI


A "catastrophe" is often defined as a series of variables, hitherto tolerable, made suddenly and acutely intolerable by the unforeseen alteration or addition of a terminal factor.


The ship's bar in the airlock. Stewards usually brought pleasing libations to the passengers in the Lounge and the Dining Room, but people in the Smoking Room often just stopped by the bar under their own steam. On the surprisingly dull flight that started on May 3, the bar was kept particularly busy by passengers looking for liquid distraction

When the Hindenburg lifted off from Frankfurt on May 3, 1937 on the first of twelve planned transoceanic passages to Lakehurst nothing at all indicated that this would be her final voyage.

It was a less than auspicious start to the 1937 season. Where the Hindenburg had had to turn away passengers on every flight in 1936, this flight was half empty. Whether due to the absence of Dr. Eckener on board or due to other reasons, the Hindenburg's glitterati stayed away from this flight. The passenger list had no luminaries and even some ordinary passengers had chosen to cancel at the last minute for various reasons of their own. Only 36 passengers were actually aboard, out of a total of 72 the ship could carry.

The ship was crew-heavy. Sixty one crewmen were aboard, including 14 DZR trainees. To teach them, the ship was carrying five experienced captains, including Max Pruss and Ernst Lehmann who was flying in mufti as Deutsche Zeppelin Reederi's newly-appointed General Manager.

The ship was on a tight turnaround schedule. She was supposed to reach Lakehurst on May 6th at 6:00 A.M., spend the day refueling and reprovisioning, and leave Lakehurst at 6:00 P.M. with a full complement of 72 passengers, all of whom were planning on going to London for the May 12, 1936 Coronation of King George VI and Queen Consort Elizabeth.


The Hindenburg over Halifax, Nova Scotia. Many of the Titanic's recovered dead found their last resting place in Halifax

This meant she would have to reach Frankfurt on or about May 9th, land, refit, and get to London no later than very early on May 11th --- for all intents and purposes, May the Tenth. It was a very tight schedule, the kind Dr. Eckener had taught his men to avoid.

More important than the passenger service was the desire of the Nazi propaganda machine who wanted the Hindenburg over Westminster Cathedral as the Coronation was taking place inside.

When word of this plan leaked out, DZR began getting anonymous calls and letters both from within Germany and abroad, that the Hindenburg would be destroyed before it reached London.

This naturally made German officials jittery, and things began to go awry at Frankfurt's airship aerodrome. German Customs Officers assigned to the Hindenburg began examining every bag, box and trunk minutely, even exaggeratedly. They suddenly and without explanation began surcharging passengers for extra bags, enforcing a previously unheard-of regulation that accomplished little but to irritate the ship's passengers, all of whom had paid at least $400 for a ticket, and all of whom simply wanted to get aboard and on their way. Arguments erupted in the boarding line.

The Hindenburg over Boston. Note the fog

Then, just when all seemed settled and everyone was aboard, a flustered man had screeched up in a taxi, afraid he'd missed his flight. He was carrying a dog in a cage, and a large gift-wrapped box, which Customs insisted on tearing open. It contained a doll. The late-arriving passenger, having been treated less than politely to this point, began arguing with the Customs Officials, and it was nearly an hour before they let him board.

By the time the Hindenburg lifted off, she was already two hours behind schedule. To make up time, the ship plotted a northerly course that would take her over The Netherlands, the North Sea, Iceland, the southern tip of Greenland, Labrador, the Canadian Maritimes, New England, and over New York before landing in Lakehurst.

In terms of distance, this route was the shortest, but it turned out to be a long, and what was worse for the passengers, a boring flight. As soon as the Hindenburg crossed the coast of Holland she was socked in by a pea-soup fog. The extra moisture in the air made the envelope heavy, slowing the ship. Fierce headwinds slowed her even more. With nothing to see out of the Promenade Deck windows except a featureless grayness, the passengers became edgy for something to do.

Unfortunately, the passengers missed Dr. Eckener's sparkling repartee on this flight, and Captain Lehmann, whose son had recently died, was in no mood to play the piano. All in all, the atmosphere of the ship was dreary.

Fighting headwinds all the way, Captain Pruss had no choice but to radio Lakehurst. The ship, already two hours behind schedule, announced that it would be arriving not at 6 A.M. on the Sixth, but at 6 P.M., a full half-day behind schedule. Several hours later, he sent a second message, that the Hindenburg would land only long enough to disembark her old passengers, embark her new ones, refuel, reprovision, and leave. She would not stay to take on new linens, tableware, and other such items, but would fly with whatever was in stock.

The Hindenburg over Princeton University, just hours before the disaster at Lakehurst. Note the overcast and the mist

As Hindenburg sailed down the eastern coast of North America she was still buried in fog. Nearer to land, Pruss had to slow down. The tension on the bridge went up a notch.

Pruss estimated arrival at 6:00 P.M. and a final liftoff at 10:00 P.M. on the Sixth. Pruss clearly had his eye on the clock, which was counting down to the Coronation.

Commander Charles Rosendahl at Lakehurst thought that Pruss was being far too optimistic, and planned for liftoff somewhere between Midnight and 2:00 A.M. on the Seventh.

Pruss had been getting pressure from Ernst Lehmann to move quickly and Lehmann had been getting pressure from Josef Goebbels back in Berlin, and Goebbels reported to the Fuhrer. For Pruss and his crew, not only would it be embarrassing on any number of levels to cut it too fine in regard to the Coronation, but it might be fatal.
 





2 comments:

  1. The piano was not on board the Hindenburg for the last flight. It had been removed as a weight saving measure.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I did not know that. This is why I encourage comments.

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