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"Letting the S.S. United States go to the breakers would be like letting the Statue of Liberty be melted down and turned into pennies. Unthinkable."
Those are the words of an anonymous supporter who recently donated a quarter million dollars towards the conservation efforts behind the S.S. United States, docked in South Philadelphia for almost two decades. Currently out of commission and stripped of its midcentury fineries, the historic ocean liner still holds the record as the fastest passenger ship ever built.
As one of the last true ocean liners, passenger ships designed to traverse the choppy seas of intercontinental travel, the S.S. United States ceased operation in 1969 when air travel and leisurely cruise ships replaced the need speedy transatlantic crossings.
At the time, the S.S. United States was unprecedented both in its speed and its panache. Inspired by the great ocean liners of the Gilded Age combined with the modern technology of its time, you might call the S.S. United States the world's last Titanic. Only her legacy didn't enter the history books with a bang, but with a slow decline into irrelevance.
For decades she idled in Norfolk and Philadelphia as her fittings, furnishings, and mechanics were stripped for restaurants and museums.
Her arrival in Philadelphia gave way to urban legends and even inspired an episode of Cold Case. For years, she was simply referred to as "the big ship by IKEA," as the furniture store even installed a massive picture window in its cafe from which to view the massive, rusting hulk.
The campaign that finally recognized this diamond in the rough began in 2009. As Philadelphia enjoyed a rebirth of its own in the early 21st Century, residents began taking another look at our deteriorating assets, and the S.S. United States happened to be one of our most visible.
H.F. "Gerry" Lenfest has been the liner's most vocal advocate, originally pledging a $300,000 grant towards the S.S. United States Conservancy in 2009. The efforts of the Conservancy helped keep the ship stay afloat for a few years, but the hefty docking price of $60,000 a month always whispered quietly into the ears of even the most hopeful.
Proposals ranged from a casino or hotel here in Philadelphia, to attractions in New York or Miami. Quizzically, nothing seemed to stick. Given that Long Beach can support the Queen Mary, it's mind boggling that Manhattan wouldn't be jumping at such an opportunity for its densely packed ports.
A year ago, her fate seemed sealed: she would be sold for scrap. The Conservancy had seemingly explored every possible opportunity, even the notion of filling her with computer servers as a means to simply make rent. That's when they went viral with a plea to save the ship, and that's when magic happened. By October of 2015, the Conservancy had raised $100,000. By this month, that number jumped to $600,000.
While room remains for pessimism, the outpouring of international support is new, and hopeful. The $600,000 will help keep her afloat in Philadelphia or relocated to a port with more potential within the next year. It would be wonderful if a fitting place could be found for the S.S. United State in Philadelphia, but losing the ship to another city isn't Philadelphia's loss. The S.S. United States is America's ocean liner, the World's last Titanic, and a symbol of International innovation and grit. When you think of the S.S. United States as a symbol of our past, it's easy to understand support spanning the globe. She's the World's treasure.
Whether she sits in South Philadelphia as eye candy for Instagrammers, serves as a museum to nautical knowhow in Norfolk, or as a lavish hotel in New York or Miami, one thing is certain, one thing the outpouring of international support proves: The S.S. United States deserves to stay afloat.
The transaction between Gerry Lenfest and Norwegian Cruise Line/Genting Hong Kong is complete. The ship was purchased for $3M by Gerry Lenfest on behalf of the S.S. United States Conservancy, who pledged $5.8M last summer. The transaction was awaiting approval from the Environmental Protection Agency.
Susan Gibbs is President of the Conservancy and granddaughter of the ship's designer, Philadelphia native William Francis Gibbs.
Because of the economic battle the ship now faces and the public funds that will ultimately be required, the ship may not remain in Philadelphia. With the second casino nixed by former Governor Ed Rendell, the largest opportunity for a privately funded waterfront entertainment complex is off the table. In addition to Philadelphia, the Conservancy is entertaining offers from New York City and Miami.
At 650,000 square feet, the estimated cost to restore the ship as a stationary attraction similar to the Queen Mary in Long Beach, CA is at $200M. The ship was originally outfitted with tons of asbestos which has since been removed. This leaves engineers and architects with the daunting task of rebuilding the interior instead of restoring it.
$2.8M remain out of Lenfest's pledge, the same philanthropist who donated $2M towards the Academy of the Arts' Cherry Street promenade, enough to maintain and store the ship for twenty months at its current South Philadelphia dock across from Ikea.
The official, and non-traditional, indoor groundbreaking at Lenfest Plaza took place yesterday at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Arts at Broad and Cherry. The $7.5M project will turn Cherry Street from Broad to 15th into a pedestrian promenade.
A Claes Oldenberg sculpture of a 53 foot tall paint brush has been commissioned for the site, just several blocks from Oldenberg's iconic clothes pin at Centre Square.
Lenfest Plaza's non-traditional groundbreaking symbolically took place on a scale model of the site rather than with shovels and hard hats.
The plaza, between the restored Hamilton Building and Frank Furness's original Academy building, will face the new entrance to the Pennsylvania Convention Center and open around the same time.
With the first major investments in North Broad Street in decades, developers and residents are eagerly anticipating what impact this new life will have on a stagnant section of Center City that has struggled with its identity as its deteriorated over the past 50 years.
In seemingly effortless contrast to the train wreck at South Philly's Foxwoods site, Sugarhouse Casino continued to thrive in the face of protest and economic hardship. Although it was ultimately scaled back to little more than a big box slot barn by community opposition, management and developers produced satisfying renderings, budget proposals, and above all, continued to meet deadlines in the face of chaotic adversity.
Under considerably less public scrutiny, Foxwoods has been allowed to rewrite their proposals to the point that they are no longer recognizable as the casino approved by the state years ago, and they have routinely ignored deadlines. They've proposed new locations, new investors, new names, new renderings, and spent the last four years passing the buck. The corporation has behaved like a child that tests his teachers and parents to see just how far they can be pushed. Well, finally the state has spoken. Fed up with four years of excuses, the state voted to revoke Foxwoods gaming license.
It is unclear what will happen with the available gaming license. Perhaps Gerry Lenfest can work his magic and get someone to back a casino project on the SS United States.
One big reason for the state's decision was in the way the 42% of charitable profit would be handled. Originally exclusive to local charities, Foxwoods had redirected the money to the Pequot Museum in Connecticut and the Mashantucket Pequot Tribal Nation, both organizations affiliated with Foxwoods Casinos. How do you say "shady" in Pequot?
