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Peter Knego, March 30, 2005

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The latest one hour video production from Peter Knego, ON THE ROAD TO ALANG, takes you to India where so many vintage passenger ships have recently met their end. Remarkable and devastating footage shot in February of 2004 depicts key ships (including the former STELLA SOLARIS, EMPRESS OF CANADA/MARDI GRAS, TRANSVAAL CASTLE/FESTIVALE, ARGENTINA/ENCHANTED ISLE, IVERNIA/FRANCONIA, SYLVANIA/ALBATROS, and SHOTA RUSTAVELI) on the "Beach of Doom."

This will be the first time Knego takes you aboard the ships he documented, from the abandoned SALONA (ex IVERNIA/FRANCONIA/FEDOR SHALYAPIN) at twilight; the APOLLO (ex EMPRESS OF CANADA/MARDI GRAS/APOLLON) at mid morning as she is being hammered apart; the STELLA OCEANIS in her prime and later laid up; and the STELLA SOLARIS with all her original Italian art intact as she looked just prior to being retired and sold for scrap.

Unlike other videos about modern shipbreaking, this project focuses strictly on the passenger ships, their contents, and history.

This unique volume also ventures into the traders' yards where fittings from the ships are sold and shows the delivery of two containers' worth of these treasures to Knego's home in California.

A sad "Molten Memorium" wraps this video up, tallying most of the important ships to have been broken up at Alang in the past decade, showing them in various stages of their life and including startling photos taken during their demise. Here is a written exposition of the video's contents and a rare, detailed look at an important aspect of passenger ship history.

India is a wondrous country, with less than half the land of the continental U.S. and over three times its population. The world's largest democracy is a land of great contrasts; from the rugged Himalayas in the north to arid wastelands and vast tropical planes. Splendors like the towering mosques and ancient palaces of Rajasthan vie with unparalleled urban squalor in cities like Agra, Delhi, and Calcutta. Tourists are charmed and fascinated by Mother India's elephants and cobras. And cows really do get the right of way.

In the Gujarat Province on the Gulf of Cambay, there is a shanty town called Alang, a place few tourists will ever see. For those who love ships, it is both hellish and holy, for Alang contains a ten mile stretch of beach where these magnificent creations go to die.

In February of 2004, a convergence of economic factors led to one of the most historic gatherings of doomed passenger vessels in decades. Surging metal and oil prices and a glut of balconied mega-ships with the latest modern amenities found nearly every redundant vessel hoisting anchor for a one-way journey to India.

Bhavnagar is the nearest major city to Alang. By Indian standards, it is mid-sized, with a population of approximately 520,000. Here, we were met by our host, Kaushal Trivedi, who works with the ship breaking yards to salvage engine parts. He has also spent the past few years working as my agent purchasing and shipping ocean liner treasures to my home in California. I was joined on this journey by close friend and fellow ocean liner journalist and photographer, Martin Cox.

Soon, we would follow the early afternoon sun along a dusty road through a network of small villages. Trucks with acetylene tanks and workers head toward the yards while even larger trucks with precisely cut metal plates return from the yards, destined for smelting plants. Dogs and children crisscross the sometimes unpaved roadway, where motorcycles and jitneys share any available lane, no matter what direction they are heading.

The countryside is rural and, if not pristine, more lush than one would think. Farmland and orchards seem to thrive in the relatively moderate Gujarat climate.

For several miles along the road before reaching the beach, hundreds of traders' yards offer everything under the sun. Life vests, engine parts, sofas, partitions, you name it. Nothing is wasted with the resourceful Indians who have made the process of recycling an art. One yard in particular beckoned with a lineup of familiar sofas and a striking panel from the STELLA SOLARIS. "Chariots" by Italian artist Emanuele Luzzati lay in a shaded alcove, having just been removed from the dining room of the former Sun Lines flagship. Although a cinema in Mumbai had its eyes on this piece, it would, after much negotiation, become a cherished part of my collection.

A huge tanker would serve as our platform to document the line up of passenger ships on the beach. A vertiginous climb up a mercilessly open network of metal ladders gave us shelter from local authorities since photography is banned in the region.

Off in the western distance, the glorious APOLLO with MAYAN EMPRESS alongside; The pristine former Soviet ASSEDO, and the SALONA, beached that morning, steam still emanating from her domed funnel. Immediately off our port side, the NEW ORLEANS, originally Moore McCormack's ARGENTINA.

From the starboard bridge wing, the still sparkling GENOA, and off in the far eastern distance, the queen of all Greek cruise ships, the S SOLAR, once the beloved STELLA SOLARIS. Just off our starboard side, the remnants of BIG BOAT, which last sailed as Premier's SS THE BIG RED BOAT III.

After our brief visit to "The Beach of Doom," we returned to the traders, passing sari-clad women and modest dwellings on the way. My video camera was causing quite a stir, making locals question whether I was from the much-feared Greenpeace who had recently been very active in exposing the region's subpar environmental and safety regulations.

More treasures beckoned from the traders. One yard had metal screens and ceramics created by Emanuele Luzzati for Sun Line's STELLA OCEANIS in 1967. In the same consignment lay several melamine stairtower panels by Enrico Paulucci. Across the way, several sets of metallic Luzzati stairtower panels from STELLA SOLARIS raised the heart rate a few notches. Fittings from both STELLAs were now making their way in droves to the traders' yards. Nino Zoncada-designed cocktail tables from STELLA SOLARIS, Sun Line and Royal Olympia glassware and crockery.

An officer's chair from TRANSVAAL CASTLE. Glass doors and screens from the same ship's dining room, designed by Joseph Farcus when she was Carnival's FESTIVALE.

The bridge door to the PROVENCE, later ENRICO COSTA, and the same ship's gangway life ring when she last sailed as OCEAN GLORY I.

At one yard, we witnessed the arrival of fittings from a favorite, dying vessel: ashtrays, waste baskets, modular w/cs and litter from the beautiful STELLA SOLARIS. As we left, more deliveries were being made by cheerful workmen, not the downtrodden souls we had been expecting to see.

Kaushal warned me that bringing out the cameras at the traders would make bargain hunting more difficult. It would also raise suspicions that we were there to inspect and not to buy. But the process had to be documented.

"No nonsense" wooden Scandinavian chairs from the Swedish ferry TRELLEBORG of 1958, which last sailed from Cyprus as the NISSOS KYPROS. Dining room glass panels from the DOLPHIN IV, the former ZION. Paintings from STELLA SOLARIS' Piano Bar. A wonderful portion of a Luzzati panel from STELLA SOLARIS.

In the pristine afternoon light, the threesome of GENOA, NEW ORLEANS, and SALONA was a powerful sight. In the foreground lay a beached tender, awaiting the incoming tide to take us to SALONA. Just a bit of GENOA's finned funnel and Clydebank-built cruiser stern were visible behind a partially broken tanker. Similarly obscured to the west was ASSEDO, originally the Soviet SHOTA RUSTAVELI of 1968. We edged carefully down the beach for a better view of GENOA, which was built in 1957 as Cunard Line's SYLVANIA and completely rebuilt by Sitmar Lines as the FAIRWIND in 1972. The NEW ORLEANS and SALONA still lay high and dry.

NEW ORLEANS, built in 1958 as the ARGENTINA, and her sister, BRASIL, were the last American-built passenger ships. Both went on to varied careers for many owners. I sailed in the sturdy old girl in her last incarnation as Commodore Cruises' ENCHANTED ISLE. Her partially dismembered superstructure reminded me of a maskless Phantom.

The long, gentle slope of the embankment and the huge variation in tide levels are the reason Alang's beach works so well for scrapping ships. They are driven at full speed during high tide onto shore. The deep drafted passenger ships tend to get stuck farther out than empty tankers and cargo ships and often frustrate their breakers by involving a slow winching process and partial demolition to get them closer to dry land. After stripping, large portions of the ship are cut off and dropped onto the beach. These sections are dragged ashore and cut into plate-sized portions for recycling.

Quickly, the tide began to wash over the muddy strand. Soon we would be off to visit SALONA, which was built in 1955 as Cunard Line's IVERNIA. She and her three sisters (which included the nearby GENOA, the ex SYLVANIA) were commissioned for the Liverpool to Montreal run but were soon outmoded by jet travel and the containerization of cargo. IVERNIA was rebuilt as Cunard's chic cruise ship FRANCONIA in 1963 and was sold to the Soviets in 1971, becoming the FEDOR SHALYAPIN.

We jumped into SALONA's fifty year old tender, which was then hoisted into deep enough water to carry us out to the beached ship. As the sunlight turned into a pinkish twlight, it was hard to believe the scene my camera lens was reading. GENOA, whose final career as ALBATROS was suddenly halted due to a mechanical problem, was supposed to be on a world cruise. After repairs were deemed too costly, she was immediately dispatched to Alang and replaced with another ship. NEW ORLEANS, which just a year prior, we had visited at her layup berth in Violet, Louisiana, three years after the bankruptcy of her owners. And SALONA, a ship I traveled twice to see in a Ukrainian shipyard while she was laid up as FEDOR SHALYAPIN. After nine years of inactivity, it is amazing her delivery crew managed to get those worn out 50 year old boilers to fire up once more for the voyage from Iliychevsk to India. None of the local traders had been aboard to see her fittings, so everything would be undisturbed. Because of the brief high tide, we would only have about twenty minutes on board, that is, if we could make it up her twisted jacob's ladder.

We climbed the aft stairtower and visited two very decrepit former tourist class cabins. The Soviets (and later the Ukrainians) had basically left FEDOR SHALYAPIN's fittings and decor as it was in the ship's Cunard era. Linoleum decking, mahogany and maple cabinetry, punkah louvre ventilation ducts, bakelite handles. The ship was a virtual museum of vintage Cunard fixtures. Ship lovers' paradise, but useless junk for Alang's merchants who want more modern furnishings to sell to hotels throughout India.

Laminated stairtower railing and a wonderful Library with bowed glass cabinet doors. Most of this would be broken down and recycled into something unrecognizable.

We head forward on Promenade Deck into the double deck ballroom designed by Jean Munro for the ship's FRANCONIA career. Many a Bermuda-bound passenger descended the Mayflower Room's sweeping staircase in the 1960s. Without all of the bright period soft fittings and lack of furniture, it was an austere place. Some handsome dining room tables had somehow been moved to a corner of the room.

We continued along the port enclosed promenade, a version in miniature of the equivalent space on the QUEEN MARY. The stripped midships lounge was nearly pitch black. My camera flash illuminated it for a split second.

Further forward, we found what was once FRANCONIA's Parasol Room, named for a chintzy fixture that hung over the circular bar. Nearby, the forward stairtower took us up a flight to the officer's mess and further onward to the Bridge Deck.

A quick stop at the wheelhouse found most of the ship's original Cunard instruments in place, another museum of brass and mahogany. The chartroom was just aft on the starboard side. A haunting panoramic view captured the disemboweled NEW ORLEANS and a glance aft to SALONA's powerful domed funnel. Our last stop was the captain's office, its burled maple desk and cabinets still strewn with someone's final onboard meal of sausage and toast. We would have to race aft along the Boat Deck, passing the decaying lido and its once spotless kidney-shaped pool before descending the aft stairtower to the tender. With only the full moon as her backlight, we passed alongside the SALONA's lovely, battered length, heading full speed toward the beach that would soon consume her.

The following afternoon, we had a moment to slip behind a chunk of tanker plating to get a parting view of the ASSEDO, the once imposing SHOTA RUSTAVELI of 1968, the fourth of five identical liners built for the Black Sea Steamship Company.

Our final day at Alang was spent toward the western end of the beach. APOLLO was built in 1961 as Canadian Pacific Line's EMPRESS OF CANADA, the esteemed company's final transatlantic flagship. She became Carnival Cruise Line's very first ship, the MARDI GRAS, in 1973 and a very important figure in the history of modern cruising. MARDI GRAS ultimately led to the world's largest cruise line, but now she was nothing more than a forgotten relic. The ship's last owners, Royal Olympic Cruises, had spent millions of dollars refurbishing her in 1997 for a charter to Direct Cruises as the APOLLON. When Direct Cruises was shut down a year later, the APOLLON was laid up and then painted blue and gold for a brief season of Aegean Cruises in 2001. After the terrorist attacks on September 11, she was once again laid up and, due to her steam turbines, ultimately found too expensive to operate. As her owners teetered on bankruptcy in late 2003, APOLLON was sold along with STELLA SOLARIS and STELLA OCEANIS en block for scrapping. She sailed to India with the slightly amended delivery name of APOLLO.

Once on board, we were led through the remains of her magnificently paneled passageways with their glowing veneers and still luminous nickel hand rails. Most of her forward cabins had already been stripped, leaving vast open spaces where cutting was ready to begin. Up the forward stairtower, where stunning etched mirrors still were fastened to the landings. Through heavy wooden doors, the untouched Cinema would be our first stop, its two deck high ceiling and padded leather bulkheads barely visible in the darkness. Mattresses lay atop the center seating, perhaps serving as refuge for the delivery crew during APOLLO's passage to India.

Unlike SALONA, APOLLO was a beehive of activity with the constant pounding of hammers and the murmur of Indian workmen in the process of undoing the work of the shipwrights of 43 years ago. Many of the solid Canadian Pacific fittings were laid out on her starboard promenade, including some stairtower mirrors waiting to be lowered down to a barge.

We visited suites ASA21 and ASA20, where enough remained to show just how glorious this ship was, even in her final days. An astonishing amount of fine hardwoods were used in her fitting out and all of these had recently been revarnished by Royal Olympic.

The brass framed window had been removed, allowing a clear shot of MAYAN EMPRESS and ASSEDO to the east.

Back up the stairs past piles of mattresses and fixtures to Hera Deck, where the former first class Lounge awaited, familiar to many as MARDI GRAS' and later APOLLON's Casino. Deco brass rings over the entryway, a slightly domed ceiling and a breathtaking mahogany screen with etched panels of Canadian flora were evidence of the ship's transatlantic pedigree.

The forward lounge was originally the St. Lawrence Club. Its bar was mostly unchanged over four decades and a set of screens designed by Carnival's Joseph Farcus were lined up awaiting removal.

We worked our way down and aft to the double deck showroom, originally the Canada Room. Although it had been redecorated over the years, much of its paneling and four large etched glass screens of maple leaves by Nan Elsan remained.

Up a small staircase in the forward part of the room where the railing sported ornate brass CP medallions, we paid a final visit to the balcony. Here the nickel balustrades were fashioned into deco style maple leaves.

We continued aft through a stripped-out lobby to the aft bar, originally the tourist class Banff Club. When the ship became MARDI GRAS, the gorgeous woodwork was painted black as part of the Fly-Aweigh Disco. Royal Olympic restored its dignity, highlighting its asymmetrical bar.

With little time to spare, we returned to the forward stairs and climbed up to the playroom, its original melamine panel of wild animals still intact. From here, it was up and out to the bridge, a sad sight since the last owners too painstaking efforts to keep it in pristine shape.

On the forward starboard deck just below the bridge, we studied an approximately inch thick cut that ran across the surface. It was as though a giant laser had precisely cut through several decks. Later, while at the breakers' yard, we would witness this whole section of the ship crashing into the mud below.

There was just enough time to dash to the dining room and peer into the engine room before the tender came to get us. Some glorious first class dressers lay piled up on one of the landings awaiting dispersal to the traders. The doors to the dining room were festooned with heavy nickel latticework. Etched mirror panels still adorned the dining room bulkhead, but the furnishing had since been removed.

In the engine room, the control panels were largely pillaged, leaving holes where brass gauges once were bolted.

As the clatter of metal striking metal grew dimmer, we left this once magnificent ship to continue her slow death in obscurity.

Sadly, there would be no time to see the once chic former WINSTON CHURCHILL with all of her Danish mid century furniture and fixtures designed by the late Kay Koerbing. There she lay, her streamlined profile still intact, awaiting a quick dispatch into the history books.

Budget and space allowed me to only save a fraction of what I saw in India. Nonetheless, the arrival of the first forty foot container was both daunting and exciting. What on earth would I do with all of this? The challenge of saving the treasures would now become a balancing act of selling and preserving. Was it worth the risk?

As the first door swung open, I was able to identify chairs from PROVENCE, SHOTA RUSTAVELI, and STELLA SOLARIS. Great designers work, from Kay Koerbing of Denmark to Nino Zoncada of Italy. Crates filled with ceramics and other works of art would soon be pried open and freed of their cargoes.

Beautiful pieces by the multimedia genius, Emanuele Luzzati, who did most of the art for the STELLA OCEANIS and STELLA SOLARIS. His work spanned back to prewar Italian liners and would be fitted on luminous liners like ANDREA DORIA, MICHELANGELO, and nearly every ship in the Italia, Costa, Lloyd Triestino, and Adriatica fleets. My back yard would become a temporary Luzzati triage as the selection would get cleaned and sorted out.

One supremely heavy crate contained one of the solid brass Siemens telegraphs from SALONA's wheelhouse. I salvaged the entire space, including the instrument panels in the hopes it might be displayed in a museum or in a place where it could be admired.

Sets of melamine watercolor panels by the late Enrico Paulucci, one of the great artists who, along with Luzzati, frequently did work for the Italian mid-century design masters Zoncada, Gio Ponti, and Gustavo Pulitzer-Finale.

My most cherished acquisition, Luzzati's "Chariots" six piece gold leaf painting from the STELLA SOLARIS' dining room. It was behind the captain's table and featured in nearly every Sun Line brochure.

Sections of nickel relief panels from STELLA SOLARIS' stairtowers. More Luzzati in yet another media.