When? What? Why?

For one hysterical day last week the municipality of Asbury Park, N. J. laid plans to acquire the beached and blackened hulk of T. E. L. Morro Castle for a side show. Editors boomed out their alarm over the failure of men and machinery in a marine disaster that had taken 127 lives. President Roosevelt at Hyde Park talked hopefully of new fireproof construction laws at the next Congress which would prevent a repetition of such a holocaust. And in Manhattan the Department of Commerce's Steamboat Inspection service tried to get at the cause and circumstances of the wreck by a week-long series of public hearings. What a shocked public wanted to know and what Morro Castle survivors could tell:

When did the fire start?

At 12:45 a.m., said New York City Fireman John Kempf who was a passenger. But then his watch might have stopped during the night. At 1 a. m., said another passenger; at 1:10 a. m., said a third who saw people stamping out a wastepaper fire in the writing room. At 2:55 a. m., said a smoke-room steward who found a blaze in a writing room locker.

When was the alarm given?

"A few minutes before 3 o'clock," said Acting Captain William F. Warms, who was suspended in 1926 as master of the Ward Liner Yumuri because he failed to hold weekly fire drills. Some of the crew heard no alarm. No passenger heard it.

What did the deck officers do?

Captain Warms, when he received the watchman's report, sent an officer to investigate the fire. He called the crew to stations. They responded in five minutes. He had the engines slowed down, then brought the ship about so that the wind was on his quarter. He ordered stewards to go through the corridors banging on pots and pans to awaken passengers, get them into the boats. When the fire passed beyond control, Captain Warms and his bridge force leaped down on the forecastle head, stayed there until taken off at noon.

When was the SOS sent out?

At 3:20, said the captain. At 3:25 said the chief radio operator.

Why the delay?

Captain Warms: "I thought we could hold the fire."

What did the engineering officers do?

Two of them exhibited either the grossest lack of seamanship or the utmost cowardice. Chief Engineer Eben S. Abbott, awakened in his quarters, went to rouse his first assistant. The first assistant was already on his way to his fire station in the engine room. That was also Chief Abbott's station but he did not go there. Instead he telephoned down to see how things were going. He then toured the ship to inspect the fire. Soon he met the first assistant on his way up from below. By this time Chief Abbott had decided that "it was every man for himself." Nevertheless, he sent his assistant down again, crying: "Keep the men there by all means! Don't let them leave until they have to!" The assistant went below just long enough to pass along these instructions, then turned and "ran for his life." Chief Abbott's tour took him to the bridge. He said Captain Warms saw he was suffering from the smoke, ordered him to take off in No. 1 boat. He did. Steward Bernard Kopf who was in the boat said he heard an order from the bridge: "Don't lower those boats!" But Chief Abbott cried: "Lower away! For God's sake, lower away!" In that boat were 32 of the crew, two passengers. Chief Abbott said he did not see any other passengers around. In his haste to abandon ship he left behind his false teeth, has had to eat pap ever since.

Third Assistant Engineer Arthur Stamper stuck manfully at his post below deck, later fought the blaze on deck for three hours. What did the radio officers do?

Second Operator George Ignatius Alagna made two fiery trips from the radio shack to the bridge to get instructions. On the bridge he found members of the crew "running around." Chief George W. Rogers stood by. In the torrid darkness some of his batteries exploded, smoke dazed him. He thought: "If I am supposed to be dying it doesn't hurt very much. . . . I'm just getting sleepy." On his second trip from the bridge, Assistant Alagna brought authority for the SOS. He helped Rogers to safety.

Was there friction among the officer personnel?

Yes. According to Chief Rogers, Captain Willmott, who died the evening before the disaster, had called Alagna "an agita tor and a vengeful person," had ordered Rogers to dismiss Alagna at the end of the voyage. When U. S. Attorney Martin Conboy who was conducting a Grand Jury investigation of his own, heard this, Radioman Alagna, already held as a mate rial witness, had his bail raised. It took two days to get the story straight: The extent of Alagna's agitation was to strike for better pay once just before sailing time. The extent of his "revenge" was to complain of the food.

Was Captain Willmott murdered?

On the chance that he might have been, his few ashes were to be given a toxicological examination.

Was there panic among the passengers?

Little or none.

How did the crew behave?

Variously. Six of the Morro Castle's twelve lifeboats reached shore. In the first five to take off were 92 of the crew, six passengers. Among the crew fatalities were 18%; among passengers, 29%. A night-watchman declared that he led 50 passengers to the promenade deck, but two boats loaded with the crew would not wait for them.

In the eyes of Bishop Hiram Hulse of Cuba and Father Raymond Egan of The Bronx, the crew "did their duty magnificently . . . were the real heroes of the disaster."

How effective were the rescue ships?

The M. S. Monarch of Bermuda, whirling up over the dawn-lit horizon, was most effective. She skidded up to the Morro Castle like a polo pony, wheeled and dropped four of her boats with one splash before losing headway. The Monarch, Captain Albert R. Francis commanding, picked up 71 people. With less finesse, the City of Savannah rescued 65, the Andrea S. Luckenbach 21. Also on the scene was the Dollar Liner President Cleveland. She arrived at 6:20 a. m., lowered no boats until 7:08. She resumed her voyage at 8:03 without having saved a single soul.

Four of the Cleveland's ranking officers made off for the Manhattan investigation when they got ashore to report that lives had been lost because of Captain Robert E. Carey's incompetence and delay. They also petitioned the line to be removed from his command. Sailing back to San Francisco, the line's headquarters, Captain Carey observed: "I took it on the chin here in New York, but they'll get theirs in 'Frisco."

Was the Ward Line obstructing the investigation?

Yes, according to District Attorney Conboy.

What fed the flames?

Woodwork, carpets, draperies, perhaps paint stores, perhaps liquid brass polish. Some stewards, in violation of the law, used a highly inflammable brass polish, even up on the bridge where officers could and should have detected it.

How did the fire start?

Nobody knows. Perhaps a drunkard threw a cigaret in a wastepaper basket. Perhaps there was a short circuit. Perhaps radicals set the blaze. Captain Warms and, by no coincidence, the whole Ward Line leans to the last theory. If arson can be proved, the line will be freed of criminal negligence liability. The owners of the Vestris were sued for $5,000,000 in personal liability claims.

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