Transmission 12: Harold Goldfarb

Having never been aboard the Big U prior to this stint as ship’s surgeon, I was as flummoxed as the newly boarded passengers were about the layout of the ship. After the first three or four lost, puzzled passengers stopped me – dressed in my spiffy officer’s maritime uniform – to ask the location of this or that, I beat a hasty retreat to my cabin to study the ship’s layout. Needless to say, ego conflated with ignorance ensured I quickly learned the SS United States’ layout!As ship’s surgeon, I took care of the Tourist Class passengers and the crew. Because I was “their” doctor, the crew could not do enough for me. The first evening, when I ordered “hors d’oeuvres and scotch” to my room, a beautiful tray loaded with goodies and a full, unopened 750 ml bottle of Ambassador scotch appeared!The medical highlight of the trip? I was awakened in the middle of the night by a middle-aged male passenger with acute rectal pain. Examination quickly turned up the cause for this gentleman’s severe “PIA”: a thrombosed hemorrhoid! Although I was an ophthalmology resident, I had spent a full year in a real “cutting” surgical internship, so I felt very comfortable in performing, on the rock and rolling North Atlantic high seas, in the Dispensary Operatory, an I&D (incision and drainage) of his thrombosed hemorrhoid. He was one of the most grateful patients I have ever had in over 50 years of practice.After 52 and ½ years, my time as ship’s surgeon on the SS United States still stands out as one of the most memorable and determinant experiences of my life. Wonderful captain, wonderful crew, and lots of wonderful experiences with the most interesting passengers. In this relatively early post-WWII era, transatlantic crossings were a pleasurable experience to be savored as part of the unfolding travel experience. Today the “travel” portion so often involves being jammed into claustrophobic Economy Class seats that make “crossing the Pond” an endurance contest, rather than the gracious pleasure that it was aboard the SS United States.”-- Harold Goldfard, M.D., Ship’s Surgeon (May 1964)

Transmission 11: Nick Starace

I still have the pay stub from my very first trip -- a whopping $424.61 before taxes, for eighteen days' work with some overtime. That was big money in those days, certainly more than I had ever dreamed of making.I served as third assistant engineer on board the SS United States starting in 1957, right after graduating from the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy. Nick Bachko, then-technical director at U.S. Lines and a Kings Point graduate himself, came to the Academy looking to hire two deck officers and two engineering officers. I was lucky enough to get one of the engineering jobs. I could not have asked for a better steppingstone into my career.To give you an idea of just how fastidious the owner and crew were about her upkeep and appearance, a "smoke watch" would be posted every time she entered or left New York Harbor, where she drew so much attention. On those days, the order of the day was "NO BLACK SMOKE." Oil-fired steam boilers that are properly maintained and operated should emit only a light haze. Nothing was to mar the majestic presence of this great lady as she made her way into and out of port along the Hudson River.A watch-stander was therefore posted on the stack deck to immediately report any black smoke to the engine room. The concern was not for environmental reasons (there wasn't the sensitivity about that then as there is now), it was primarily a matter of good operating practice, and at U.S. Lines we prided ourselves on the professional manner in which we ran our ships.If there was black smoke emanating from one or both of her two stacks, we would soon hear about it from the U.S. Lines head office, as the vessel was always observed as she steamed past the office en route to and from her mid-town berth. To be honest I cannot remember if we ever got a reprimand, but the threat kept us on our toes.-- Nicholas “Nick” Starace, Third Assistant Engineer (1957)

Transmission 10: Joe Rota

I was up in the radio room next to the bridge and there must have been a dozen officers milling around, which was very unusual, and they all had their binoculars and were pointing out the starboard window. I stepped out and saw this submarine surfacing just about a couple of hundred yards off the starboard side. The thing that really surprised me was that she was keeping up with us, and we were doing over 30 knots. This sub came up and surfaced, flashed her light, and then went back down again. She might have been up for a minute. I said "Wow! What was that all about?" The radio operator called me in and said, "You didn’t see anything." Later on in the afternoon, the relief man was there, and I said, "You’ve got to tell me what’s going on!" He said, "That was the atomic submarine Nautilus."And I said, "What did she say? What message did she flash?" And he said, "Happy Birthday." It turns out an admiral’s wife was on board.-- Joe Rota, who held the positions of First Class Elevator Operator, Bellboy, Waiter, and Photographer, in that order (1955-1959, 1964-1965)