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2 weeks ago
10
I’ve dedicated years of my life to studying the Titanic.
Maybe I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t admit I’ve written two books on her, appeared in documentaries and TV interviews about her – and yet, still, I am glad the ship is falling apart.
This week divers retrieved a priceless bronze statue from the wreck and also discovered part of the liner’s bow had decayed and fallen off on to the sea bed.
The front railing – iconic from the Oscar-winning film about the 1912 disaster – is finally rusting and crumbling to nothing.
Shocking images have revealed the iconic bow of the Titanic has finally collapsed after more than 110 years beneath the waves
The news that rocked the world, after the 'unsinkable' Titanic was lost in the Atlantic in 1912
But instead of feeling sorrow, as so many Titanic ‘fans’ around the world say they feel, I have nothing but relief.
You see, my great-grandfather died on the ship – his remains are possibly still on board – and I believe it’s time to let her go.
Not only that, I also firmly believe the Titanic is cursed – that it not only wrecked so many lives over 100 years ago, but it is still a malign influence today.
The imposing Titanic looming over Southampton docks before its fateful maiden voyage
William Bessant, my great-grandfather, was working as a lowly stoker in the boiler rooms (those men covered in soot and coal you see in the film) when the ship sank on her maiden voyage on 15 April, 1912, killing at least 1,500 people.
Julie Cook's great-grandmother Emily Bessant, with four of her five children, was left destitute by the death of her husband William on the Titanic
A locket with a photo of William Bessant - Julie Cook's great-grandfather
He left behind a wife, Emily, and five children in poverty. My great-grandmother had to take in laundry to survive.
I heard this story again and again from my own Titanic-obsessed father (grandson of the stoker who died) who told me how important it was to remember the crew.
And so I did. I read books, watched documentaries and learned what I could. My personal interest became professional when I started researching and writing my books – one non-fiction, The Titanic And The City Of Widows, and a novel, The Titanic Girls.
As part of my research I joined lots of social media groups. Just tap ‘Titanic’ into Facebook and hundreds come up. I joined several to find other descendants like me, to gauge why people are so obsessed with her and to make connections and find primary sources for my books.
The groups were helpful in tracing relatives of those aboard that night, from engineers and eminent passengers right down to the more lowly stewards and firemen.
In particular I spoke to a wonderful descendant of the famous American socialite and wreck survivor Molly Brown, who was very kind.
My conversations were fascinating and deeply moving, but I soon learned there was also a very real dark side to the ‘Titanic community’, with the same loud, overly knowledgeable voices – usually men’s – in every group.
Many times I had to press ‘mute’ or block someone for aggressively replying to a comment of mine, or even sending aggressive personal messages.
There was the man who accused me of never having a relative on the Titanic at all and making it up, and also countless other men who sent me unsolicited sexual messages. One unhinged woman even accused me of stealing the front cover of my book from a picture on her wall.
Julie Cook, whose great-grandfather William Bessant was a stoker in the Titanic's boiler room, has written two books about the tragedy
It was clear these people were completely obsessed with the disaster and wasting many hours of their lives picking over its every detail.
There were conspiracy theorists who believed it never happened, the ones who felt it was an insurance job, the ones who said Titanic was actually switched with sister ship The Olympic. There were even those who believed Jack and Rose from the 1996 film were real people and discussed their romance.
It is a strange thing that a ship which sank over 100 years ago can inspire such emotion.
An image from the 1997 epic Titanic, directed by James Cameron using state-of-the-art computer imagery, which helped to create the modern obsession with the disaster
The final moments of the Titanic in the movie, which in real life caused more than 1,500 deaths
I stayed in these groups after finishing my books because, I admit, it fascinated me too. The lure, the pull, the obsession was something I’d never come across.
Even the utterly potty comments kept me entertained and I often learned new things from the more measured, intelligent members.
Then, last year, a second tragedy happened in those waters and made headlines around the world.
A submersible aptly named Titan disappeared on June 18 during an expedition down to the wreck. Aboard were Stockton Rush (a big name in the Titanic community and CEO of Oceangate, which ran the expedition), deep-sea explorer Paul-Henri Nargeolet, and passengers Hamish Harding, Shahzada Dawood and his son Suleman. All five perished.
If I thought Titanic online groups were strange before, I had no idea what was to come.
In the aftermath of the disaster, the Titanic community erupted into a toxicity I’d never seen.
I was used to the griping of ‘she wasn’t 269 metres long, she was 268 metres long’ from those some of us called, rather disparagingly, the ‘rivet counters’ – people who obsess over tiny details about the ship and love to correct others.
But the poisonous reaction to these new deaths was something else.
There were two camps. Those who felt Titanic should now be left alone and that the symbolism of a sub named Titan being wrecked when visiting her was just too disturbing. And, on the other side, that expeditions must continue, to honour those who perished and retrieve artefacts from the wreck before it was too late.
Some of these people are inevitably more concerned with the monetary value of what may be recovered, or what they can get from gruesome ‘Titanic tourism’. Arguments and name-calling ensued. I got threats sent to my personal email from strangers who read an article I wrote in this newspaper last June about the Oceangate tragedy.
One man reacted to my piece by threatening he’d ‘find me and see me soon’ – such was the heightened emotion over this ship. Another accused me of ‘cashing in’ on the tragedy – the irony when diving companies were making hundreds of thousands from visiting her!
Much as I hate to admit it, I’d check in regularly to the groups to see what bitter fighting was going on, or check no one else had made slanderous accusations about me.
Yet I do understand the lure of such a fixation. It’s human nature to focus on the things we fear, such as large-scale disasters.
The bow of the RMS Titanic, which became an iconic image of the 1997 film starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet, pictured in 1998
The crumbling ship, which was found on the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Newfoundland, Canada, in 1985, has held a tight grip on the public's imagination since the disaster
I was drawn in for many years as I pieced together my own ancestor’s history and placed him in the wider Titanic world. I too was partially obsessed for a time.
But I now see that I was wrong to hold on so tight. The Titanic must be left in peace.
You may or may not believe in curses, but to me, the wrecking of Titan on an expedition to see Titanic was a sign that said: leave her alone now.
In fact, many people believe the ill-fated liner was always cursed, from the few crew members who dreamed about the disaster over 100 years ago and refused to get on the ship, to the oligarchs of the day who had a ‘feeling’ and didn’t board.
Personally, I’ve always felt there was a ‘curse’ around the Titanic, a sense that arose from my research and all the ‘what ifs’ that happened – for example, the Titanic narrowly avoided smashing into the liner SS New York in Southampton as she set sail before even reaching open waters. Then there are the anecdotes of people who have laid wreaths above the wreck site only to feel ‘strange’ and hear strange noises.
Regardless of such beliefs, though, it is also a gravesite and the place my own great-grandfather lies – his body was never recovered.
My great-grandmother was among hundreds of parents, wives, children who never saw their loved ones again, something some forget as they shove and push to get down to see the Titanic before she vanishes.
Following the Titan tragedy, I left every Titanic social media group I had been a part of. It felt incredibly liberating saying goodbye to all that venom, pettiness and sniping.
And as I did I realised that this ship had destroyed lives then and it is still destroying lives now.
So when I saw the images this week that show the Titanic is breaking apart, I felt massive relief. Finally, I thought. At last.
I can imagine the furore going on in the online Titanic community. My stomach lurches at the thought of it.
The wreck zone is a place of deep sadness and grief. If the great ship is finally eroding, maybe we can stop divers going to plunder her, and stop people risking their lives for just a glimpse of her.
The Titanic took 1,500 souls in 1912, and five more in 2023. It’s time we left them all in peace.
English (US)