TIME OUT IN THE 1930’S- TIME TRAVEL FOR REAL….

I said in a previous blog that I had enjoyed an overnight stay in Long Beach on the venerable old Queen Mary. In fact, as things go on my ‘to do’ bucket list, this was right near the top. But I still approached the old girl with mixed feelings, and not without reason.

By the time I got to her, the Queen Mary had spent more time on life support in her Long Beach exile than in service; forty-three years against thirty-one, to be exact. I’d always assumed that there would be something mournful about her.

There would be that moment when I leaned over the railings, thrilled at the unique magic of being on such a fabled, legendary ship. The adrenaline would flow like tap water as I waited for the engines to start.

But of course, they never will….

I was reminded again of the curious tourists that pay up to file past Lenin’s waxy corpse in Moscow. Was the Queen Mary the equivalent? The once great, iconic Cunarder now some tremendous, tethered mummy, wrapped in a hundred coats of black, white and red paint?

I had other reservations. A lot of time and effort has gone into making the Queen Mary appear as some kind of temple to Art Deco. In fact, her interiors were much more of a Bauhaus/Odeon mixture. In terms of decor, she was by far the most conservative of the great ‘ships of state’ of the 1930’s.

Sure, there are plenty of streamlined, petrified Art Deco motifs still adorning the walls of her public rooms. But to call her an Art Deco ship- especially when compared to her great rival, the Normandie- has always seemed more than a little desperate to me.

But on the other hand….

Here was the ship that had, in the immortal words of Winston Churchill, shortened the war by at least a year with her troop carrying capacity. The ship that had held the Blue Riband unchallenged for fourteen consecutive years.

She was the ship of film stars, politicians, sportsmen. The great and the good. Noel Coward, Laurel and Hardy. Hepburn and Spencer Tracey. Bob Hope and John Wayne. Greta Garbo. Bogart, Bacall, and even the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. In her post World War Two heyday, anybody who was anybody at all sailed across the Atlantic on the Queen Mary at some stage.

And she still looks marvellous. No matter that her three funnels are plastic replicas of the originals. Those were wisely dismantled when it was found that the only thing still holding them together was one hundred and four coats of Cunard black and red paint.

The lady truly has a remarkable, swaggering stance. Even now, the Queen Mary is still a spectacular statement of intent. Just walking her outer decks is exhilarating. Stand on the wing of her bridge, look back at those three gigantic funnels, and you feel as if the old girl is ready to slip her ropes and sail off at any moment.

If only that were so…

Inside, many of her vast, double height public rooms can be viewed, as can the famous, supposedly haunted swimming pool. They run haunted tours on the ship. Maybe best not to give Clive Palmer any more money making ideas, though, eh?

The famous wood panelling is still waxed and buffed to an incredible degree, Just as in her heyday, the play of light on wood gives her a kind of dark, feverish feel in places.

Of course, the legendary Veranda Grill has not been restored yet. If only they could achieve that, It would enhance her pulling power enormously. In the late forties and fifties, that room was the equivalent of the Savoy Grill, or the Ritz. The food and service was certainly among the best anywhere in the world.

The promenade decks are long, ghostly expanses. On my visit, they were as silent as a graveyard. Compared to how busy they must once have been, this was truly sad.

But my cabin- A-36- was wonderful. Just off the main lobby, and handy for what is still a fantastic shopping arcade; a true thirties time capsule with some excellent, eclectic memorabilia stores worth a few hours of anybody’s time. I browsed. I spent. I treasured. And I still do.

But, for me, the real highlight was the famous Observation Bar, curved around the base of the lower superstructure.

Here huge, floor to ceiling windows form a circular sweep that embraces a bewitching series of chrome balustrades, original floor and ceiling light fixtures, and groups of formal furniture. I could almost hear Noel Coward bitching about Ira Gershwin over a couple of apple martinis, or imagine Marlene Dietrich wafting into the room, all shimmering white and trailing a cloud of exquisite perfume in her wake.

Here, the very essence of what the Queen Mary once was hits home like a cruise missile. The past is seared into every nook and cranny of this beautiful, expansive room. And, it has to be said, they make a pretty mean chocolate martini as well. It’s all good here.

I left the ship feeling sad on several levels. Firstly, I was sad to end what had been a marvellous holiday (see previous blogs) and yes, I was sad to be leaving the Queen Mary, too. I want to return, and soon.

There was sadness, too, for all the parts of the ship that her owners simply cannot afford to renovate. Too much remains closed, dark and inaccessible.

Yet I am, after all, grateful that she is still there. Still proud, still beautiful, and still with a million stories to share.

Partly for those reasons, I hope her venerable successor- the equally legendary Queen Elizabeth 2– can be preserved for other, future adventurers to love, cherish and wonder at. On that front, only time will tell I’m afraid.