For Some, Titanic Was All Too Real

The new movie “Titanic” is everywhere. Its $200-million cost, authentic period costumes and improbable romance between the classes has thrown me into thought-prodding emotions. This cinematic super-event is changing the delicate balance of shadows and light in my family history.

You see, my great-grandfather died on the Titanic . . . or, more likely, deep inside the Titanic.

I don’t particularly want to think about his fate a lot, but with the constant barrage of special Hollywood reports on the resurrected tragedy, I can’t avoid confronting the truth and surprising pain of the matter.

The television coverage of a movie recreating the sinking of a ship and the loss of life ambush me as I sit on my couch after dinner. I watch multiple views of the Titanic as it dips its bow beneath the water and lifts its stern into the night, flinging passengers and crew away until they are just dots before a splash.

My eyes sting and my stomach tightens when a “Titanic” commercial highlights screaming, tumbling actors frantically holding on to handrails, cameras close to their faces to show their reenactment terror, close but not close enough to the real face of fear. I witness their interpretation of the fate of my ancestor.

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These scenes and my maturity force me to come to terms with reality. When I was a teenager, I told my friends that my great-grandfather had died on the Titanic, proudly announcing him ship’s purser, like Gopher on “The Love Boat.”

To me it was romantic. He walked the decks in his white uniform and graciously held the trust of all the wealthy passengers. A clean and good job for a sailor, I thought.

But in fact, this young man had a dirty, sweaty job. He was a stoker. Called firemen on the crew list, he and others like him shoveled coal into the fireboxes of the large steam engines below decks. I’m sure he felt fortunate to have even that. More than likely, he was stripped to the waist for his shift near the mouth of a furnace and I doubt he saw any passengers. His station was near the point of impact with the iceberg.

And all of this bothers me. Not that he had such a basic job; I’ve long since come to terms with my adolescent fantasy of his role on the Titanic. My concern is with Hollywood’s treatment of this event.

How many times should such a story be reanimated as entertainment to feed our fascination with large disasters? It is intensely personal to me and must be to others who have ties to people who were on the ship.

This working-class Englishman had two young children and a wife waiting for him. As a crewman, his duty during the disaster--along with a hundred other firemen--was to labor hard to keep lights and pumps working for as long as they possibly could. Only a small fraction of that crew lived.

Did he make it out of the boiler room or did he die at his station? Did he survive long enough to hear the captain’s final order: “Every man for himself!”

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These thoughts of real people, terror and death are difficult to contend with. This is not a made-for-Hollywood movie, but a moment in history that put many families in duress and made my father’s grandfather a mystery figure who can still bring sadness into my life.

I wonder what his last moments were like and I hope he did not suffer much before he died. I do not think “Titanic” can answer any questions for me.