--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Cornwall, Claude C. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 31 number: 3 published: 1928-01 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Claude C. Cornwall, “On the “Leviathan”,” *Improvement Era* 31, no. 3 (January 1928): 229–235." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3103unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera3103unse start_page: 229 end_page: 235 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1928-01) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3103unse publication_year: 1928 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1928, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # On the “Leviathan” J pn Ux WJj/M w ^ The World's Greatest Ship Docked at Pier 86, New York Voyaging on the "Leviathan" By Claude C. Cornwall, Recreation Director Pier eighty-six, North river, is a busy place this morning. Taxicabs mill around the dock entrance and honk their way through the traffic jam with their loads of trunks', bags and expectant occupants. Masses of restless people throng the dock and climb the waiting gang planks to the ship's decks, carrying bundles and baskets. Many of the women have bouquets of flowers, roses, chrysanthemums, orchids. It is an animated crowd of humanity. They shake hands, embrace; groups of college students sing, and Charleston, to the jazz music of the ship's band. The great Leviathan is sailing at noon today. As the siren shrieks its warning, most of the huge mass of people crowd down the gang planks to the dock. Those left on board throw serpentine ribbons, which are caught and held as the last tie from ship to shore. The giant liner backs away from the pier. The paper ribbons break. Handkerchiefs wave farewell and bon voyage. There are tears and cheers. Three thousand miles away are Sunny France and Merrie England. There are students and touiists off to see the sights of Europe; salesmen who carry samples of American wares afar; buyers who will search the world's king- doms for "imported" goods; explorers; adventurers; journalists; actors; folks going home; — what not? They are on their way. What a great time they will have going across, — all of these interesting people to meet and with whom to get acquainted. But how is that to be done? They are all strangers. The giant steamer floats quietly down the Hudson, past the ferry landings and the Battery; past the statue of Liberty and out through the narrows. The pilot climbs down a Jacob's ladder to his wait- ing row boat. Shivers pass over the ship as the four great propellers get into action. Commodore Hartley steers for the open sea. Community singing on deck Leviathan. The figure in the French "barry" cap is none other than Claude C. Cornwall in the attitude of starting the song. The camera wasn't large enough to include the hundreds of others in the group. ON THE -LEVIATHAN' 231 "Looks like we'll have fair weather," says one. "Hope so," is the cheery reply. There is an exchange of smiles. This is the first step toward a friendship which may last long after the voyage is finished. Seventeen times I have seen this giant liner put out to sea from the American shore. Thirty-four times "we" have conducted programs of deck sports and social activities in each of these four separ- ate communities. We romped and played together, watched and laughed and sang. We made up our own fun. And most of it came from discovering who we were, where we were going, and why. Baseball Leagues. Deck Tennis Contests A thrilling moment in a deck tennis jame on the Leviathan. Andrew Mellon. Jr., has thrown the ring to Miss Elizabeth Hughes, (daughter of Chas. E. Hughes). If Miss Virginia Willys doesn't get into the game she will lose a point. Kemit Butler, (son of Chief Justice Butler) , is on the alert. But the most animated face in the picture is that of Claude C. Cornwall, recreation director. crossed the Atlantic, the Leviathan and I. It is a great ship. On some voyages this summer we carried nearly 'three thousand passengers. Our crew numbers eleven hun- dred. There are four classes of travel based upon one's ability to pay; third cabin, tourists, second class, and first. I have named in the ascending order of pocket books. One can ride the Leviathan for $1,000 or for less than $100. In my responsibility as recreation director, I and Golf Tournaments were only the means of getting over our recreational idea. There was some exhilaration value in these games to be sure. There was entertain- ment for the gallery group, the spectators. But, most of all, there was social contact and a centering of interest which slowly developed unity among these heterogeneous mass of strangers. We began to Tcnow one another. In the Tourist cabin the problem was 232 IMPROVEMENT ERA more complex. Here was limited deck space and unlimited ambition and energy in the crowds of college students and teach- ers aboard. Mass games, group relays, folk dances and such interests occupied the morning periods, generally ending with an hilarious clog dance and a cheer. Happy as these group gamesi were, they couldn't compare with those of the evening pro- to the piano and harmonized for a few songsi. Soon others joined, then came both men and women, until the crowd num- bered nearly a hundred. Miss Curtis of Boston was at the piano and we started with, "My Hero," then "The Sextette" and finally, "The Volga Boatman," — all from memory and in full harmony. When the American Legion went over, Left: Miss Dorothy Carlson of Salt Lake City, winner of the National Oratorical contest with her mother, posing on the Leviathan in mid- Atlantic. Right: Miss Evelyn Thurston of St. George, Utah, in a bold attitude of bravery on one of the Leviathan's life boat davits. She is on her way to Paris, where she is now studying piano with the eminent Phillipe at the Scola Cantorum, near Sarbonne. grams. Commencing with the community "song," these Leviathan nights have been everything from an informal concert to a dramatic revue. People of talent were gathered into congenial groups and they wrote, rehearsed, and produced skits, choruses and even light opera. One night when we had finished singing old songs, rounds and such, a group of fellows came there was no class distinction. It was a one-class boat. My task was not so much one of promoting activity as to give op- portunity for all who wished to enter the sports program. Our central committee in charge of the various features numbered more than forty people. We tried to get one from each state in the union. Green- ville, Ohio, furnished a brass band which ON THE "LEVIATHAN" 233 was the concert nucleus for the "sings" held on deck. (When these "sings" were over each evening, small groups would gather into various- corners and harmonize far into the night.) There were baseball games and golf tournaments galore; contests were held in everything from tennis to quoit-pitch- ing. This was a great voyage. Many At the Trocadero in Paris, Commander Savage raised the gavel (made from a wounded tree from Belleau Wood by a disabled veteran) and called the conven- tion to order. He announced the opening number from the famous fife and drum corps of Booneville, Iowa. Immediately a hundred voices in the great audience echoed, "Never heard of it!" Andrew Mellon, Jr.. congratulates Miss Elizabeth Hughes, the champion, (note the medal) in the presence of Kemit Butler and Miss Virginia Willys. of the men had been passengers on the Leviathan ten years before when, as a transport, she carried ten thousand soldiers of the A. E. F. at a trip over to France to do their bit in the great war. "You can't stand there, soldier!" was the bv- word of that other trip. But this time the slogan was, "Never heard of it!" One ^roup sang their California song and waved a yellow banner. "Where is this Cali- fornia?" shouted a New England group, "Never heard of it!" At Cherbourg, Julian Thomas came out to meet us. I hadn't seen "Jude" in sixteen years; way back in the days when he with Geo. Cannon, Spence Cornwall and I formed the University quartette and sang, "Hard times come again no more." He is commander of the Paris post of the Legion, and so I was invited to go on the first tender with General Pershing and all the big boys. (The Leviathan is too large for the Cherbourg docks so it anchors outside and is served by smaller 234 IMPROVEMENT ERA boats called, "tenders," which come along- side and take passengers to the harbor.) Ordinarily I have waved good-bye from the ship to passengers' leaving in this way. (This might be called a tender farewell.) But this time it was my turn to be "ten- derly" landed. Our band played the "Marseillaise," and the "Star Spangled Banner," as we en- tered the inner harbor and the French band on shore responded with the same numbers in reverse order. Then they hung above their heads, menacing their security and destroying their peace of mind. And here were the fine fellows who came freely, with no thought of personal gain, or national expansion, and helped remove that threat forever: "Vive I'Amerique!" By the time we reached the Gare St. Lazare we were filled with emotion. There were tears in the eyes of most of us. The great parade in Paris was not spectacular in itself. It was huge, massive; but as a pageant the M. I. A. Jubilee had Left to right: Miss Clara Partridge of Provo, Utah, and Miss Minna Gill, the Tourist Social Committee. Miss Agnes Young, daughter of Mahonri Young, the sculptor. Agnes is returning from Paris, after a summer's vacation spent with her father. Her brother, Bill, was along, but kept out of the picture. Agnes was co-author and actress in the Leviathan Tourist Revue. Dr. and Mrs. LeRoy Cowles of the University of Utah after 6,000 miles of Leviathan travel. Miss "Utah" was entertained at luncheon on the Leviathan in New York. With Miss Veda Farley and Virginia Stevens, she was the guest on the big boat of Claude C. Cornwall, recreation director. played, "Madelon," the famous French war song. (Never heard of it!) All the way from Cherbourg to Paris as our train sped along (drawn by an American locomotive), the French people waved their welcome, shouted, "Vive I'Amerique!" and cheered us with smiles and genuine enthusiasm. It was a sin- cere expression of French feeling. I mean that of the common people of the great Republic. Oh! there may be some Europeans who would wish to discredit the American contribution to the great struggle — but these people know. For years the threat of German invasion had it eclipsed many ways. The spectacle was in the side lines; the French people cheer- ing these "civilian" soldiers. (There were very few uniforms.) Soldiers of the French guarded the line of march, in full uniform and with fixed bayonets and loaded rifles which glistened in the oc- casional rifts of sunshine that filtered through the misty clouds. They were pre- pared to quell any hostile outbreak or demonstration should it occur. They pre- sented a grim spectacle with those fixed bayonets. But the grimness faded as a smile broke upon the faces of these fine fellows when they watched the long lines ON THE '•LEVIATHAN" 235 of American "troops" swing jauntily along the broad boulevards of this gayly decorated Paree. I flew from Paris to London. I had to make speed, as the Leviathan sailed from Southampton the next morning at seven. George Ercole, of Paramount Pictures, came aboard on Tuesday at Cherbourg, carrying a large tin box. He had films of the convention and parade, developed and printed, ready for the projector. When we were within about 200 miles of the shore an hydroplane came out from New York. Ercole threw these films over- board (sealed in the tin container and fastened to a rope with cork floats at- tached.) The plane alighted on the ocean's smooth surface, taxied to the spot, and hauled the precious package aboard. By that time we had gone far ahead. But soon we saw a speck on the horizon and then a plane rushing overhead back to a waiting audience in New York. The patrons of the Paramount saw films of the parade and convention a whole day before the ship which brought them had arrived in port. I should like to tell more of the "Heroes of the Air" as they impressed me in our brief contacts. Of Commander Richard E. Byrd, a cultured, radiating personality; Clarence Chamberlain, the modest, skillful pilot; of Colonel Chas. A. Lindbergh, the great aviator, navigator and sincere yankee; of the reticent Balchen; the bold Acosta; f and the care-free Noville; but this article should stop now. At any rate, I'm going to make men- tion of Dr. Franklin S. Harris, of the B. Y. U., and Prof. James L. Barker, of the U. of U., who were rival captains of the Sharks' and Whales in a baseball game played on the English Channel. More than fifty missionaries came home on the ship this summer. Spence Eccles and Mrs. Eccles of Logan went across to the Legion Convention, as did also Dr. Black. Mrs. Huish went to meet her son, as did also Mrs. Roberts. Peg Partridge visited Europe, A. Van Tussenbrook went to Rotterdam to bring back his wife, Marion Morris, Erma Rockhill and Evelyn Thurs- ton are now studying in Paris, and Paul Kimball went to Oxford University. I wasn't entirely among strangers. Whenever "Mormon" missionaries were aboard I introduced them to the Purser and told him we were now safe for the trip. The ship wouldn't sink with mis- sionaries on board. And I also tried to be a missionary, mostly by trying to direct my own behavior somewhere around par. Almost every moment of leisure con- versation was about Utah, Salt Lake, the "Mormons," and what makes us different from other people. I believe the most cherished compliment paid me dur- ing the entire summer came from the bag- gage master whose parting request was, "Please. Cornwall, send me a picture of your temple." Sunny Jim Cave By Glen Perrins No one in the world knows the joke! But it must have been a real hilarious one which Mother Nature told ages and ages ago. for the guardian of Sunny Jim cave, — the stone-carved face in the darkness of that underground cavern in southern Cali- fornia— is still laughing. The image smiles, and the lashing of the waves of the gigantic Pacific, for thousands and thou- sands of years, have been unable to erase the laugh; their roar and wild raging echoing mirthlessly in the hollow grotto below sea level are not enough to dispel the smile, — Sunny Jim smiles on. Grotesque and weird is the trip down those long, winding stairways that lead from the hut on the cliffs of that pic- turesque building near San Diego. One goes down, down, down! Step after step on those misty, winding stairs, the roar of the ocean and the lap of the waves coming nearer and nearer. The darkness