Although the United States was the western terminus of the highly competitive transatlantic passenger trade, and Americans constituted the largest share of passengers heading back and forth, US-based shipping lines were traditionally minor players on the Atlantic. European-flagged ships were generally thought of by American passengers as offering higher quality standards of food and service, while Prohibition certainly didn't help matters during the 1920s and early '30s, as the ability to drink once outside US territorial waters was also a big attraction for traveling on a foreign line. Also not helping was that United States Lines, the flag carrier set up in the early 1920s to make use of the large amount of new transport vessels constructed for WWI and of the German ships taken in reparations, never had the right fleet to offer a regular weekly express service. The only large, fast ship under US registry was the ex-German Vaterland, which went for scrap in the 1930s.

Part of President Franklin Roosevelt's efforts to lift the country out of the Great Depression was a shipbuilding initiative under the US Maritime Commission, offering low interest loans, direct subsidies, and loan guarantees for companies ordering ships from US shipyards. Eager to replace the old Leviathan/Vaterland with an equally grand, but more modern and economical ship, United States Lines submitted their application for assistance, and received the first contract under the new program in 1936.

Design work for the new ship was entrusted to the New York-based firm of Gibbs & Cox, lead by America's foremost naval architect, William Francis Gibbs (who, interestingly enough, was actually self taught in the profession). Gibbs was passionately interested in safety, above all else, believing it was not the job of an architect to merely give their clients what they asked for, but that he also had a moral obligation to do whatever he could to make his ships as safe as possible for the passengers and crew who would sail in them. The loss of Titanic in 1912 affected him greatly, and caused Gibbs to focus on the importance of structural redundancy and compartmentalization, but it was the loss of Morro Castle in 1934 that had an even greater impact. That American-flagged liner caught fire en route to Cuba, and the burning hulk drifted ashore, running aground on the beach of Asbury Park, New Jersey, with 135 souls dead in the inferno. The wreckage became something of a morbid tourist attraction,and Gibbs traveled down from New York to view it himself, and became even more conscious than ever of the dangers of fire at sea, as a far greater threat than collisions. For the remainder of his career, he would be known for his focus, really zealousness, to fire safety above all else. The new United States Lines liner was the first major new contract he received after the Morro Castle fire, and would be his first major chance to put his fire safety concepts into practice.

However, United States Lines was insistent that their new flagship should be a proper rival to European liners, which meant suitably lavish and luxurious Art Deco interiors, which meant some limits on what Gibbs could do, the ship had to be a viable commercial enterprise, after all. Interior design was handled by an all-female team from Smyth, Urquhart, & Marckwald – lead by Dorothy Marckwald and Anne Urquhart, who worked closely with Gibbs to ensure that they maintained a single, unified vision for the ship.

First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt traveled to Newport News Shipbuilding & Drydock Co in Newport News, Virginia to christen the new ship America in 1939, and fitting out was completed in 1940. America measured 26,454 gross tons and 723 ft long – only about 1/3 the size of the big British and French liners, but still fairly large for the era, and enough to make her the largest passenger ship under US flag at the time. She featured a set of 37,500hp steam turbines driving twin screws for a speed of 22.5 knots. As built, there were accommodations for 1,202 passengers – 543 in Cabin Class, 418 in Tourist Class, and 241 in Third.

As WWII in Europe was well underway by the time America was ready for service in August, 1940, the planned transatlantic service from New York-Bremerhaven via Le Havre and Southampton was not going to happen. Instead, United States Lines used her to open a novel New York-Los Angeles route via the Panama Canal. It at least brought in some revenue, but was obviously far slower than train, and, especially, the nascent airline industry, and was not terribly popular. Between 1940-1941, America was also used on frequent leisure cruises in the Caribbean, in between liner voyages. During 1941, several crew members were discovered to be part of a German spy ring – reporting on Allied and US ship movements in the Caribbean and Pacific and studying Panama Canal defenses. Also, her aft funnel (the only functional one) was found to be too short, resulting in too much soot accumulation on the upper decks, so both funnels were raised during the Fall of 1940.

Finally, as part of the ongoing US military buildup in preparation for direct involvement in the war, America was requisitioned by the US Navy in July, 1941, and renamed West Point for conversion into a troop transport vessel. Refitted to carry 7,678 troops at a time, West Point spent 1941-1946 in Naval service, carrying both American and Commonwealth forces to and from Africa, Europe, Australia, New Zealand, Japan, and Southeast Asia, steaming 550,000 miles and transporting over 500,000 troops.

West Point was handed back to United States Lines in 1946, after completing postwar repatriation voyages, and was renamed back to America and thoroughly restored to prewar configuration, finally entering transatlantic service to Bremerhaven in November, 1946. After 1952, she was partnered with the much larger, and significantly faster, United States on the route.

Airline competition from 1958 onward began siphoning off passengers, and United States Lines started deploying America on more and more frequent cruises to Bermuda and the Caribbean from 1960 onward, with frequent periods of lay-up. Finally, United States Lines pulled her from service in November, 1964, and offered her for sale.

The buyer was Chandris Lines of Greece, who renamed her Australis, and gave her an extensive refit – adding air conditioning throughout, an outdoor pool, and increasing passenger capacity to 2,258. After completion of the refit in 1965, Australis was remeasured at over 30,000 gross tons, and entered service on the Britain-Australia route, primarily carrying immigrants heading south from Europe, on one of the increasingly few routes where ocean liners could still operate profitably against airline competition. Between 1965-1977, Australis made 62 round trip voyages from Europe-Australia and carried over 300,000 new residents to the latter country. Eventually, airlines caught up on that route as well, and Chandris pulled Australis from service and laid her up in New Zealand until 1978, when she was sold to Venture Cruise Lines of New York.

Under Venture ownership, Australis was renamed back to America, registered in Panama, and refitted for Caribbean cruises from New York. The refit was a hasty, low budget job, and was not fully completed when America sailed on her first cruise for Venture – with leaking pipes, backed up toilets, and furniture and construction debris piled up in the halls. Passengers mutinied, and forced the captain to turn back to port. On her second cruise, America was scored 6/100 in her US Public Health Service inspection, and was arrested on arrival in Nova Scotia, due to creditor claims of $2.5 million.

America was repurchased by Chandris for $1 million, renamed Italis, and plans were announced for a major rebuilding and modernization, however, the only major change made was removal of the corroded forward dummy funnel. Italis ran a few Mediterranean cruises for Chandris from 1978-1979, and, following a charter as a hotel ship for an Organization of African Unity conference, was laid up in Greece.

Italis was sold to the Intercommerce Corporation in 1980 and renamed Noga, for rebuilding as a private prison ship to be moored in Beirut, under contract to the Lebanese government, but funding never materialized.

Intercommerce ultimately sold her to Saudi Arabian-based Silver Moon Ferries in 1984, who renamed her Alferdoss, with plans on reactivating her to carry religious pilgrims for the Haj, but, again, nothing was done, the ship continued to sit rusting and decaying in Piraeus. In 1988, Alferdoss was sold to a scrap metal company for $2 million, who proceeded to demolish the lifeboats and davits, before defaulting on half their payments. Finally, in 1992, Alferdoss was purchased by an investment consortium from Thailand, with plans to convert her into a luxury hotel moored in Phuket. The ship was drydocked, and discovered to be in excellent structural condition, despite over a decade with basically zero maintenance. The hull was cleaned and painted, the funnel spruced up, and the now renamed American Star left under tow for Thailand in December, 1993.

For reasons that are still unclear, the decision was made to sail via Gibraltar instead of Suez. On January 17th, 1994, American Star broke her tow rope in a gale off the coast of the Canary Islands and washed up on Playa de Garcey, on Fuerteventura. The ship sat beached for nearly 6 months while her owners, insurance company, and towing company bickered over a salvage plan, until on July 6, 1994, when the pounding wave action finally caused her to crack in two just aft of the funnel, causing American Star to be declared a total loss.

The 344ft stern section took the brunt of the weather, and collapsed into the sea in 1996, but the bow remained intact and upright, until deterioration began accelerating during 2005, leading to a complete collapse in 2007. During her time as a beached wreck, American Star was heavily looted by islanders, almost all salvageable furniture, artwork, and fittings were gradually removed from the bow, and there is apparently a bar near the beach decorated almost entirely with items salvaged from the ship.

During the 1960s, there was a gradual softening of relations between Japan and North Korea, enough that a regular ferry service between the two countries became a possibility. This was realized in 1971, with the introduction of the first Man Gyong Bong – a 3,400 ton combination passenger-cargo vessel built in the Chongjin Shipyard in Chongjin, North Korea. She carried about 300 passengers, and, at a speed of about 10 knots, could make the trip from Wonsan, North Korea to Niigata, Japan in little over 2 days.

The Man Gyong Bong provided a valuable service for ethnic Koreans in Japan, allowing them to visit their relatives in the North. During the 1950s and '60s, the North Korean government, and North Korean-sponsored organizations in Japan, had heavily encouraged immigration to the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, painting a rosy picture of life in the Communist paradise, and it worked quite well, with about 100,000 Japanese citizens moving to North Korea during that time (most were ethnic Koreans, though several thousand ethic Japanese migrated as well). Once there, travel abroad to visit their old homeland was strictly forbidden, but, with the introduction of the Man Gyong Bong, their family members still residing in Japan could at least come and pay them a visit at their new home in North Korea.

Man Gyong Bong was small, not terribly practical for cargo transport, and, especially, very slow. By the mid 1980s, the DPRK government was already considering a replacement. As a present to President Kim Il-Sung, on the occasion of his 80th birthday in 1992, the pro-DPRK General Association of Korean Residents in Japan (Chongryon) conducted a fundraising campaign among their members, raising the $32 million necessary to build a larger and faster ferry.

The result was the Man Gyong Bong 92 – delivered in September, 1992 – 5 months after Eternal President Kim's 80th. Man Gyong Bong 92 measured 9,672 tons (nearly 3 times the size of the original Man Gyong Bong, enough to make her by far the largest passenger ship under the North Korean flag), and 414 ft. long. Construction was again handled by the Chongjin Shipyard, with the ship being operated by the DPRK state-owned Daizin Shipping Company.

Despite the increase in size, passenger capacity was reduced to about 200, albeit in more spacious and comfortable facilities than before. Cargo space was expanded significantly, with the ship being equipped with roll on/roll off (ro-ro) ramps for trucks, and large cranes for self-unloading and loading. Most importantly, the new ship was capable of 23 knots, enough to make the Wonsan-Niigata trip in a much-improved 28 hours.

From 1992-2006, Man Gyong Bong 92 plied the North Korea-Japan route, making about 2 round trips per month, with ticket prices topping out at around $1,500 in First Class. Most passengers were Japanese Koreans visiting relatives in North Korea, or students from Chongryon schools traveling to North Korea for study abroad programs. The cargo space was mostly filled with food and medical supplies, as well as Japanese electronics and modern consumer products not otherwise available in the DPRK.

However, starting in 2002, the whole arrangement began to unravel. That year, North Korea publicly admitted to kidnapping a number of Japanese civilians during the 1970s and '80s. Although General Kim Jong-il stopped short of explaining the exact method used to smuggle captured Japanese into his country, the fact that the original Man Gyong Bong was the only direct connection between the two nations at the time made it perhaps the obvious mode. This lead to increased media and political scrutiny on the operations of Daizin Shipping and Man Gyong Bong 92, with official investigations launched in Japan and the United States from 2003-onward.

These investigations lead to the conclusion that Man Gyong Bong 92 happened to be the primary method used by North Korea to import the foreign electronic components necessary for their missile program, with about 90% of required parts transported by the ship during the 1990s and early 2000s. Furthermore, evidence was also found that the Chongryon was operating a network of North Korean spies within Japan, receiving orders from, and passing information to, handlers sailing on the ship as crew, and, as if that wasn't enough, Man Gyong Bong 92 was also being used to smuggle North Korean-manufactured methamphetamine into Japan for distribution by the yakuza, earning the North Korean government (and the Kim family) about $7 billion over 10 years in the process.

As a result of deteriorating public relations, Daizin Shipping cut back sailing schedules to only one round trip every few months from 2003 onward. Finally, after North Korea's test firing of their new Taepodong-2 ballistic missile in July of 2006, Japan issued a temporary ban on all North Korean ships in their waters, which became permanent a few months later, due to North Korea's nuclear weapons testing.

After that, Man Gyong Bong 92 sat idle for 5 years, until 2011, when she was re-activated as a cruise ship – the impetus being that tourism was basically the only industry in North Korea not subject to international sanctions, and provided some opportunity, however limited, to earn some revenue from foreign tourists. From 2011-2013, the ship was used for 5-day cruises from Wonsan to the Mt. Kumgang resort area near the South Korean border. Accommodations were somewhat less than luxurious. For an all-inclusive fare of about $500, passengers were treated to foam cot mattresses on hard wooden bunk beds in open dormitories, if they were lucky, or just a mattress on the floor if they were less so. Food quality was said to be abysmal, but still much better than that experienced by most North Koreans outside Pyongyang, given that the food existed.

In 2013, North Korea purchased the old 1980-built ex-Soviet Black Sea ferry Dmitriy Shostakovich, which had been running gambling cruises out of Singapore as the Royale Star, and used it to replace Man Gyong Bong 92 in the Mt. Kumgang cruise service.

After that, the ship was laid up again, while North Korea began attempting to negotiate with Japan to reopen the old ferry service. From 2017-2020, Man Gyong Bong 92 was used very occasionally on irregular runs from Rason, North Korea to Vladivostok, Russia (the route more typically served by the original 1971-built Man Gyong Bong, which is still in use), and, in 2018, also used her to carry the North Korean delegation to the Olympic Games in South Korea, with Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme People's Assembly Kim Yong-nam on board. However, since 2013, she has spent most of her time idle in port, and has not moved at all since early 2020, due to the COVID-19 pandemic, along with all of North Korea's merchant ships, due to Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un's decision to completely isolate the country, no exports, no imports, no commercial fishing, out of a belief that the virus lives in seawater.

This is not intended to be political, I had a lot of good times in Atlantic City pre-pandemic, and have always been kind of interested in the history of the town, and its ups, downs, further downs, and even lower downs, over the years. Few buildings are quite as emblematic of the city's fortunes as this one.

For anyone in the Southern New Jersey area with nothing to do tomorrow, a not-very-old, but very derelict building with a troubled history is getting imploded at 9am – the former Trump Plaza Hotel & Casino, abandoned since 2014.

The property's long and troubled history started in 1966 – that year, two buildings opened at opposite ends of the same block - the 20-story Holiday Inn Boardwalk Hotel, at 2209 Boardwalk and the 11-floor Four Seasons Motel at 2300 Pacific Avenue.

In 1978, both hotels were acquired by Penthouse magazine publisher Bob Guccione and closed down, with Guccione announcing plans to renovate both structures and link them together to create a new mega-resort called the Penthouse Boardwalk Hotel & Casino, which would open by 1980. The project required the acquisition and demolition of every other property in between the two hotels, creating a giant, L-shaped plot covering about half a city block. The City of Atlantic City used their powers of eminent domain (aka compulsory purchase, for those of you in the Commonwealth) to assist Guccione in assembling his new lot. The one holdout was a woman named Vera Coking, who operated a low budget boarding house in a 3-story 1920s building in the middle of the block. Coking refused to sell at any price, and launched a legal challenge over the use of eminent domain for a private, commercial development project. Guccione decided he couldn't wait for the matter to be settled in court, and began construction in 1979, building his new structure around Coking's property, hemming in her house on 3 sides with towering steel framework.

However, Guccione and Penthouse Entertainment soon ran into financial difficulties, and construction was suspended in 1980, leaving only the gutted Four Seasons and Holiday Inn buildings and the empty steel frame of the new structure between them.

Enter Donald Trump and his New York-based development company, the Trump Organization. In 1981, Trump signed a joint venture deal with Harrah's Entertainment to build a casino along the Boardwalk on the same block as the stalled Penthouse venture, leasing a lot bordering the Penthouse on two sides. Construction began in 1982, and the Harrah's Trump Plaza Hotel & Casino opened its doors in early 1984. Designed by well-known hotel architect Martin Stern, the 39-story building opened with 614 hotel rooms and suites and a 60,000 sq ft casino. The Trump Organization manged the hotel, food service, and banqueting operations, while Harrah's was in charge of the casino. Almost immediately, problems developed within the partnership. The summer season of 1984 failed to hit revenue projections – Harrah's blamed Donald Trump's insistence on building the hotel without adequate on-site parking and too-high of a ratio of luxury suites to normal rooms; Trump insisted that the building was intended to attract wealthy high rollers, who would arrive in chauffeured limousines from the airport, and that the Harrah's brand name, and its association with middle class customers at its Nevada properties was bringing the operation down.

In the Fall of 1984, Harrah's agreed to take their name off the casino, with it now becoming the Trump Plaza Hotel & Casino. Later that year, Trump bought the stalled Hilton Marina Hotel & Casino in the Marina district of Atlantic City, directly next door to the Harrah's Marina Hotel & Casino, violating the noncompete provision in the partnership. At that point, the relationship broke down completely, and Harrah's sold their stake in Trump Plaza to Trump in early 1985.

Overextended, and with several unwise investments, including the money losing corpse of Eastern Airlines, Trump's business empire teetered on collapse in the early 1990s recession, he managed to narrowly avert bankruptcy by trading equity in various assets for debt forgiveness, loosing 50% of Trump Plaza in the process, but remaining in managerial control.

In 1992, Trump managed to buy the rusting, derelict Penthouse property next door, and announced plans for a major expansion of Trump Plaza. At that point, the eminent domain case against Vera Coking was renewed, this time with Trump in place of Guccione. The old Four Seasons Motel and all of the Penthouse's new framework built between 1979-1980 were demolished in 1993, while the old Holiday Inn was retained. Martin Stern was brought back in to renovate the 1960s structure and build an addition to link it to the Trump Plaza, turning it into the “new” East Tower of that property. A new entrance and porte cochere and surface parking lot was built on the remainder of the Penthouse site, with project being completed in phases between 1994-1995.
Trump Plaza was, along with Trump's other casino businesses, folded into a new, publicly-traded company called Trump Hotels & Casino Resorts Inc. in 1995.

Eventually, the case against Vera Coking was settled in her favor in 1998. The final expansion saw a new parking garage built on the edge of the Penthouse lot in 2000, finally solving a problem Trump Plaza had had from day one.
Overexpansion in Atlantic City, competition from legalized gambling in other states, a heavy debt load, and the post-9/11 travel downturn pushed Trump Hotels & Casino Resorts into bankruptcy in 2004, the company restructured and emerged with a new name, Trump Entertainment Resorts, with Donald Trump's shareholding significantly reduced in exchange for debt forgiveness.

But, just a few years later, the 2008 Great Recession started, and Trump Entertainment Resorts went bankrupt again in 2009. Immediately prior, the Trump Organization was defeated in an attempt to take the company private again, with Trump resigning as chairman and board member in the aftermath of that failure.
The company emerged from bankruptcy again in 2010, only to be hit by a lawsuit from Donald Trump in 2014, alleging that the Trump Plaza and sister property Trump Taj Mahal had been allowed to deteriorate so severely as to violate the terms of their licensing deal for his brand, demanding that they either be renovated or have his name taken off. Later that year, Trump Entertainment Resorts went bankrupt again, wiping out the remainder of Donald Trump's token shareholding. Trump Plaza closed for the final time in September of 2014.

That same year, billionaire investor Carl Icahn, who had become Trump Entertainment Resorts' largest creditor through debt purchases, acquired and demolished Vera Coking's old boarding house in the middle of the block.
The remains of Trump Entertainment Resorts exited bankruptcy in 2016, now under the ownership of Carl Icahn and his company, Icahn Enterprises. Over the next several years, Icahn was unable to interest anyone in the old casino, with the ground lease arrangement being cited as a major obstacle. In 2018, Icahn finally bought out the land under the building, uniting the whole property under the control of a single owner for the first time. That year, he first announced plans to demolish Trump Plaza, explaining that the cost of rehabilitating the building exceeded the cost of building something new, and that the lot would be far more attractive to to investors without the structure on it.

After two years of delays, work began on gutting the building and demolishing lower-level portions in late 2020, and the main tower is scheduled for implosion tomorrow. Icahn has not announced any firm future plans for the site – early proposals called for retaining the East Tower (ex Holiday Inn) and the parking garage, before switching to total demolition, but more recent reports seem to be conflicting on that.
Even while the hotel was still operating, several floors of hotel rooms were closed off due to water leaks from the failing roof, and the building has become riddled with mold over the years. In addition, pieces of concrete cladding have been breaking loose and crashing to the ground in high winds, causing the city to label the building a threat to health and safety. I remember going to Atlantic City on the last day of operation – at the time, the sign out front proclaimed it the “U LAZA”, as the budget had not allowed for light bulb replacements in some time.

As for what will replace it, my money is on a vacant lot. This will be the 3rd casino demolished in Atlantic City's history, following the Trump World's Fair in 2000 and the Sands Atlantic City in 2007. The former remained a vacant lot until a strip mall was built on part of the site in 2015, while the remainder is empty; while the Sands site is still entirely undeveloped.

EDIT: And there it went

Parking garage and East Tower are still standing, I guess TBD if they go later through conventional demolition, or get saved and turned into something else

Smoking lounge is coming along, I've had this 60s vintage fireplace in storage for awhile (think it's from Montgomery Ward originally), really ties the room together.

Now just need that cocktail bar to come in from China, and also get some sort of charcoal filter unit

@alfalfa Hey man, I'll give you 1/4 of your asking price, plus some pocket lint. Can you be home Saturday between 8am and 11pm so I can pretend to be interested in looking at it, and then not show up?

@fintail A warning to police that they should have their gun drawn preemptively before walking up to the driver's window

The smoking lounge has been a work in progress since late August, bar was delivered this morning, which means, aside from a few minor details, it's done. Just in time for a responsibly small gathering over July 4th, pandemic related conditions permitting.

The 1930s saw an obsession with streamlining, or, at least, the aesthetic appearance of streamlining – everything from locomotives, to passenger cars, to seaside hotels, to radios, to electric egg beaters had Streamline Moderne styling cues applied, so it shouldn't be much surprise that 1935 saw the introduction of what was billed as the world's first streamlined ferry – the MV Kalakala.

Kalakala started life in 1927 as the SS Peralta, a double-ended passenger-only ferry built by the Moore Drydock Company in Oakland, California for the Key System's service between San Francisco and Oakland. As built, she measured 256 ft. long, displaced 2,075 tons, and could carry 2,000 passengers. Peralta and her sister ship, Yerba Buena, are regarded as the most luxurious ferries ever to sail in the Bay Area, with richly carved mahogany paneling, finely painted murals, ornamental plaster work, and polished brass accents.

Peralta was in service from 1927-1933, when, on May 6th of that year, an arsonist started a fire in the train yard next to the pier where she was tied up overnight, and the flames spread to the ship. Peralta's superstructure collapsed and she was written off as a total loss.

The burned out hulk remained tied up in San Francisco for several months, until October of 1933, when it was purchased by the Puget Sound Navigation Company (doing business as the Black Ball Line), renamed Kalakala (Chinook for “flying bird”), and towed north to the Lake Washington Shipyards in Houghton, Washington for a thorough rebuilding. Over the next two years, a new, radically modern streamlined superstructure was built over the still structurally sound hull, and the original 2,600hp steam turbo-electric powerplant was replaced with a new10-cylinder Busch-Sulzer diesel engine developing 3,000hp, giving a top speed of 17.5 knots. The rebuilding increased her length to 276 feet, and she was now measured at 1,417 gross tons, with a capacity of 1,943 passengers and 110 cars.

The silver painted superstructure was designed by Boeing Company engineer Louis Proctor, and was heavily inspired by aircraft design. Notably, Kalakala became the first ship in the world to use electric-arc welding instead of rivets, to give her superstructure a smooth, seamless appearance.

Kalalaka returned to service in June, 1935, accompanied with massive publicity. By day, she worked the Seattle-Bremerton ferry route, by night, she ran moonlight cruises in the Puget Sound with big band music by her house band, the Flying Bird Orchestra. As the flagship of the Black Ball Line fleet, Kalalaka was easily the most luxurious ferry on the West Coast. Her lower deck featured a Ladies' Lounge for female passengers, and a separate Tap Room for men. The upper decks had an indoor/outdoor Palm Room lounge, modeled after the winter gardens on transatlantic ocean liners, forward was the Observation Lounge, with heavy velvet and mahogany chairs, which became the ballroom for the night cruises. Amidships was the Horseshoe Cafe, named after its horseshoe-shaped serving counter. The main passenger deck had thickly upholstered benches in a graceful curved shape.

Kalakala continued on her original service all through WWII, however, problems with wartime vandalism caused her luxurious furniture to be removed and replaced with built-in benches, and also lead to the closure of the Tap Room and a ban on alcohol service on all ferries in Washington, which lasted until 1974. The moonlight cruises also stopped during the war and were not resumed afterward. Postwar, Kalakala became the first commercial ship with radar, being issued FCC license #0001 in 1946.

In 1951, all ferry services in Washington were taken over by the state, and Kalakala came under the ownership of the Washington Department of Transportation, as part of the new Washington State Ferries. Initially kept on her original Seattle-Bremerton run, Kalakala's route shifted to Port Angeles-Victoria, British Columbia from 1955-1960, after which she moved back to Seattle-Bremerton. During the 1962 World's Fair, Washington State Ferries ran a special schedule from Seattle to handle the demand, and opened Kalakala for public tours in between runs. She ranked as the fair's second most visited attraction, after the Space Needle.

Unfortunately, the increasing size of American cars in the 1950s and '60s meant that Kalakala's capacity was steadily reduced from the original 110 down to a low of 65. The light steel superstructure was also showing signs of corrosion, and the diesel engine was proving surprisingly costly to operate. A shortage of available tonnage caused Washington State Ferries to pay for a major refurbishment in 1963, but it was clear her time was ending. In 1966, the bow doors were removed to speed loading/unloading, and Kalakala was finally withdrawn from service in 1967. In 1968, the ship was sold to the American Freezership Company, and rebuilt as a crab processing vessel for use in the Aleutian Islands, with most of her interiors gutted. This lasted until 1970, when Kalakala's engine block cracked, and she was run up on shore in Kodiak, with dirt and rocks back filled around her, and she became a landlocked fish cannery until 1982, when her owners went bankrupt and shut down. The State of Alaska's Renewable Resource Corporation bought the ship, but had no real plans for it, and sold it to the City of Kodiak for $1.6 million in 1986.

In 1988, Seattle sculptor Peter Bevis, working on a fishing boat for the season, stumbled on the derelict Kalakala and was astonished to find that the ship still existed, having believed it scrapped years earlier. He formed the Kalakala Foundation and began raising money to return the ship to Seattle as a waterfront attraction. Eventually, the City of Kodiak transferred title to the foundation, and the ship was refloated and towed back to Seattle in 1998.

Then, nothing happened. The nonprofit organization was unable to raise the necessary funds for repair and restoration, and Kalakala shifted around from one mooring to another in Union Bay from 1998-2004, when the bankrupt foundation sold her to Steve Rodrigues. Rodrigues had ambitious plans to finally restore the ship, and towed it to Neah Bay, to a site provided by the Makah Reservation. However, disagreement over the nature of the arrangement lead to a lawsuit and eviction by the Makah, so the ship was towed to Tacoma in 2005. Once there, Rodrigues announced several plans and dates for restoration work to start, none of which happened, and the ship's condition continued to deteriorate.

In 2012, the owner of the berth, Karl Anderson, took possession due to unpaid dock fees, and, after trying to find a possible use for her, eventually had Kalakala broken up for scrap in 2015.

I visited the Kalakala shortly after her return to Seattle. At the time, there seemed to be a decent amount of excitement in the city regarding the ship – I remember going to several restaurants that had framed newspaper articles about the ship hanging up by their registers, and seeing Kalakala merchandise for sale in various gift shops. On board, the volunteers were enthusiastic and happy to show visitors around. The car deck was still warped and wavy from the Peralta's fire in 1933, and the interiors were pretty well gutted down to the bare frame, but they had plans. At the time, they were working on building a Kalakala model on a motorhome chassis that could be driven around to events, they were setting up a forge in a corner of the vehicle deck to cast replacement bronze porthole frames for the ones that were missing, and had located an identical engine at a decommissioned power plant that was going to be donated to them, so the ship could be used again for excursion cruises in Puget Sound. On board, they wanted to open up a bar, restaurant, and gift ship, turn the pilot house area into a bed and breakfast, use part of the vehicle deck as a permanent maritime museum, and have gallery space to highlight contemporary artists, as well as running occasional cruises. The redevelopment plan was pretty detailed, and it looked like just about every square foot was going to be put to good use.

Unfortunately, it just didn't work out. After the initial burst of enthusiasm, the project just ran out of momentum, funding was never raised, and the ship went from being a cool new attraction for the city to an embarrassing eyesore. I kind of wonder if it would still be around today if everyone had just left well enough alone and left her to sit beached and abandoned in Alaska.

@looseonexit OK, that, I like. Can we have this instead of all the angry face grilles, maybe?

In the mid 1920s, the financially ailing International Mercantile Marine Corp. sold the White Star Line to the Royal Mail Group, bringing one of Britain's largest shipping companies back under British ownership for the first time in decades. Royal Mail promised to make investments to improve White Star's declining competitive position on the highly contested transatlantic routes, as IMM's situation had prevented them from doing much in terms of fleet renewal or upgrades.

By the late 1920s, CGT/The French Line had commissioned their spectacular new Ile de France, North German Lloyd were working on their new twins Bremen and Europa, and White Star's domestic competitor, Cunard Line, had placed an order for a giant 81,000 ton superliner. Not wanting to be left behind, and also in need of a bigger and faster ship than the Homeric to partner with Olympic and Majestic, Royal Mail Group placed an order with Harland & Wolff in Belfast in 1928 for what would be the biggest ship ever planned by the line – the new Oceanic.

Royal Mail were big supporters of diesel engine technology, then a pretty new idea for ship propulsion, and the Oceanic was planned to be the biggest diesel ship ever built. Construction started in June, 1928, with White Star expecting delivery by Spring, 1930. As originally envisioned, Oceanic would have been around 900 feet long and 60,000 gross tons, however, early in the construction stage, the plans were revised twice, with the final design settling on 1,050 feet long and 80,000 gross tons. The powerplant would have been diesel-electric, with 47 giant, 6-cylinder turbo diesel engines driving electric generators to power 4 propellers, with a total output of 275,000hp, for a top speed of 30 knots and a service speed of 28.5.

Unfortunately, with the onset of the Great Depression in 1929, construction was suspended. Royal Mail Group soon filed for bankruptcy, White Star was spun off as an independent company under the ownership of their creditors, and the Oceanic was officially canceled in early 1930.

But, White Star still needed new ships, and they had a contract with Harland & Wolff that included a hefty cancellation penalty. As a compromise, they scraped together the funds to order a much more modest vessel, a near-sister to the Britannic of 1930, which would be constructed using some of the materials salvaged from demolishing the unfinished Oceanic.

Construction on the new, smaller ship began in 1930, and the completed Georgic was delivered to White Star in June, 1932, the last ship ever completed for the line. Georgic was considered a “cabin liner” - moderately sized ships of moderate speed, in which Cabin Class was the highest level of accommodation (essentially a counterpart to modern Business Class on airlines, nearly First Class level service at significantly lower than First Class prices). Georgic was intended for the new reality of the Great Depression, built to a price, for economical operation, with moderate ticket prices. Not a flagship or national “ship of state”, but intended to be a reliable revenue-earner for the company at a time when they desperately needed money.

Georgic measured 27,759 gross tons and 711 ft. long, equipped with twin diesel-electric engines delivering a top speed of 19 knots. Accommodations were for 1,636 passengers (479 Cabin Class, 557 Tourist Class, and 600 Third Class).

Georgic was initially used on the Liverpool-New York route. After White Star merged into Cunard-White Star Line in 1934, her route was shifted to London-New York in 1935 (Georgic and her sister, Britannic, became the largest ships to use the port of London at the time).

Georgic switched back to Liverpool-New York in 1939, and, following the outbreak of WWII, actually continued in civilian passenger service for several months, until March of 1940, when she was officially requisitioned by the Royal Navy for conversion to a troop ship.

Refitted for 3,000 troops, Georgic was first used to evacuate British troops from Norway during May of 1940, then for the evacuations from France. After that, she spent much of the Summer and Fall of 1940 carrying Canadian troops to Iceland. From September 1940 to January, 1941, she made a long round-trip voyage from Glasgow to the Persian Gulf via South Africa, then made a few more crossings from Canada to the UK.

On May 22nd, she left Glasgow with a load of British Army troops bound for Egypt. She arrived on July 7th, and spent a week in Port Tewfik for re-provisioning, being scheduled to sail back to Britain with a load of 800 Italian prisoners-of-war. While still in port, on July 14th, she was bombed by German aircraft from Crete. Her fuel and ammunition stores exploded and the ship was completely engulfed. Her crew managed to run her aground to prevent sinking, and the flames eventually burned themselves out after about 2 days, leaving Georgic partially sunk and badly burned.

In peacetime, the damage would have been extensive enough to be a total loss, but, with a major shortage of large transport ships, and shipyards operating at beyond full capacity, it was decided to salvage Georgic. The hulk was raised in October and towed to Port Sudan, where temporary patches were made. In early 1942, she was towed to Karachi where more temporary repairs were completed. After that, December 1942 saw her moved again to Bombay, where final work was done to make her seaworthy.

Georgic sailed under her own power from Bombay to Liverpool in January, 1943, loaded with a cargo of iron. Upon arrival in Liverpool, she sailed again to the Harland & Wolff yard in Belfast for full rebuilding into a troop transport. Lack of shipyard capacity delayed work, and Georgic was not recommissioned until December of 1944.

By that point, she was highly changed. Her forward dummy funnel, which had housed the radio room, was removed due to damage, and the compromised deck structures below being unable to hold the weight. Evidence of the fire was visible throughout, with canted decks, twisted beams, and warped bulkheads. Her crew and the soldiers transported on board soon nicknamed her the “Corrugated Lung”.

From December, 1944 through the end of 1945, Georgic made a number of voyages to Italy, the Persian Gulf, India, and Singapore. Postwar, she was used for repatriation voyages of Allied troops and dependents and Axis prisoners-of-war. Due to the extensive damage, the UK Ministry of Transport had purchased her outright from Cunard-White Star, but continued to contract with the latter company for her management.

In the Fall of 1948, she was partially refitted as a single-class ocean liner, and from that point onward alternated between transatlantic crossings in the Summer and immigration voyages to Australia and New Zealand during the Winter (when UK government regulations barred her from the Atlantic, due to her fire-weakened hull structure). Cunard Steamship Company bought out the remaining shares of Cunard-White Star in 1949, folding it back into the Cunard Line, however Georgic and Britannic remained painted in White Star livery.

Cunard Line continued to manage the ship on behalf of the British government, and to market her transatlantic voyages themselves, while immigration voyages were booked through the Australian government, with the British government occasionally using her for troop transport purposes. Georgic's final voyage was a round-trip from Liverpool-Hong Kong with 800 troops from November-December of 1955, after which she was laid up and offered for sale. She was purchased by Shipbreaking Industries Ltd. of Faslane, Scotland in early 1956, and arrived for demolition in February.

@italia wow, I missed that that was done in 2020, would have guessed somewhere closer to 1985

@taylor-martin man, I miss the old days when you could just jack the car up by the bumper

@rallydarkstrike did you get them new, or is it a question of smaller market to start with = fewer survivors? The ones down here are hard to find and either roached out or asking stupid money

Not quite the direction I would have gone on the customization, but I can appreciate it. The license plate is gold

https://www.facebook.com/marketplace/item/864731460751168/?ref=facebook_story_share

@rallydarkstrike I suppose that's an indicator of how beat up US market VehiCrosses have become by now, if you want to find a decent one, it might be easier to import it than keep looking here

@texturedsoyprotein No, I was indoors - somehow, because the place was busy. We don't have any diners where I live*, so if there's a decent one, I'm stopping.

*a kid I once hired as a summer lifeguard murdered the owner of the only one in town, his kids ran it for awhile, sold it to another guy who made a lot of changes that didn't work well, then it closed. New owners bought it last year, were supposed to have reopened by now, but no news in like 6 months.

@rusty-vandura Maybe with other branch managers, but I liked to think of myself as more of a chilled-out entertainer than a boss, really.

@doodon2whls There's a bit of a Peter Pan syndrome going on there.

@snakesm13 I grew up with a younger brother like that. He's in his 30s now, still doesn't know how a toilet plunger, dishwasher, or broom work.

@rusty-vandura It was godawful, like managing a store at the mall, but one where customers only come in when they're really pissed off at something. I did it for a little over a year, and went back to traveling sales as quickly as I could. The extra pay wasn't worth the aggravation, especially since the commuting costs (and lack of a company car) pretty well ate up all of it anyway.

Used to go through my Rolodex and just randomly call clients to see if they wanted to meet for lunch for no real reason, just to have an excuse to get the hell out for an hour. Would always come back to some minor problem everyone was freaking out over because nobody could show any initiative.