Two years after the Titanic disaster, a German-built ship that was larger and far more deluxe than its infamous predecessor sailed to New York City successfully. Known then as the Vaterland, its design greatly influenced successive generations but my favorite ocean liner is almost unheard of today.
The Vaterland and its sister ships made their competitors look small and homely if not cramped in comparison. Charles Mewès, the French architect, had been hired to plan interior spaces on par with five-star hotels and private members' clubs for first class passengers- and he succeeded at doing so. Engineers split the second of three funnel uptakes conceiving an uninterrupted vista from its Louis XIV social hall through the main lobby and winter garden back to a Ritz Carlton restaurant. A Ritz Carlton restaurant, not just à la carte like on the Titanic. The kaiser was so proud and confident about these ships that he showcased artwork from his personal collections onboard them.
When the First World War broke out though, the Vaterland sought safe harbor in Hoboken but it was later seized by the U.S. government, renamed Leviathan after the biblical sea monster, and later kept by America as part of war reparations after the Treaty of Versailles. Its running mates, the Imperator and incomplete Bismarck, were given to the Cunard and White Star lines in compensation for lost tonnage like the Lusitania and Britannic respectively. The dispersal of this trio subsequently changed the creative direction for transatlantic companies with later builds like the Queen Mary and Normandie having more in common with them than anything previous from their own drawing boards. Even one of the earliest Titanic films made, Atlantic (1929), advertised as "the leviathan of all talkies," clearly had its sets inspired by the Vaterland demonstrating that it had truly set the benchmark for opulence at sea.
For me however, as a collector of souvenirs, I do not mind that the Leviathan goes unrecognized. Items like brochures, dinner menus, or deck plans go for much less than anything from better known vessels. Among the more unusual memorabilia found, I have three vinyl records that were produced by its orchestra. Songs they recorded ranged from fox trots like "Tut-Ankh-Amen" to more humorous ones such as "The Little Wooden Whistle Wouldn't Whistle." It has been a great joy discovering this ship and more so knowing Alexander Carlisle, the Titanic's architect himself, admitted that the Vaterland was absolutely perfect on its maiden voyage.
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