The Lusitania Murders (27 page)

Van Dine has always fascinated me, however, because of his rise and fall—that he was a spectacularly popular mystery writer who, within ten years of his prime, was largely forgotten. The eccentric egotist behind the
pseudonym, Willard Huntington Wright is the subject of
Alias S.S. Van Dine
(1992) by John Loughery, a compulsively readable biography that I wholeheartedly recommend. Loughery’s portrait of Wright was the chief influence on my portrayal of S.S. Van Dine, although I turned to numerous references in the mystery field as well, including
Encyclopedia of Mystery and Detection
(1976) by my friends Otto Penzler and the late Chris Steinbrunner, and
Twentieth-Century Crime and Mystery Writers
—Second Edition (1985) by John M. Reilly. Wright was not on the final voyage of the
Lusitania,
but he did sail three months prior, bringing his artist brother, Stanton, safely home; this real-life connection to the
Lucy
inspired his use in this novel.

My two longtime research associates came through for me in a big way—the sinking of the
Lusitania
made for a particularly challenging and exhausting research job. George Hagenauer read every book on the subject he could find, and pointed me to the best and most pertinent material; in addition, he spent hours on the phone and in person with me, discussing which real people on the voyage would make interesting characters, probing the historical issues and ramifications, and generally “spitballing” the plot. George in particular helped examine the complicated figure of Elbert Hubbard, a man who was a household name in his day and is largely forgotten now (not unlike S.S. Van Dine). He also helped develop the backstory of Pinkerton agent Philomina Vance. I always thank George for his work, but this time I really couldn’t have done the job without him—he dug into ancient newspapers and magazines, and prepared files on a dozen
Lusitania
passengers, and prepped me beautifully for this voyage.

Lynn Myers—a real-life Pinkerton agent himself, if not as attractive a one as the fictional Miss Vance—did an incredible job for me, too, finding articles and books, and in particular leading me to (and locating a copy of) the single most important source—
“Lusitania”: The Cunard Turbine-driven Quadruple-screw Atlantic Liner,
a 1986 reprint of a 1907 Cunard volume that features deck plans, photos and detailed descriptions of everything on the ship. Introduced and expanded upon by Mark D. Warren, this book was an indispensable tool, as most books on the
Lusitania
—unlike those on the
Titanic
—tend to focus less on the ship and the voyage and more on the sinking and the politics.

Four other books provided the bulk of the information I drew upon, and all are quality works, any one of which would be worthwhile for a reader who’d like to know more about this subject (most also tell the story of the U-boat that sank the
Lusitania,
which is absent from this novel):
Exploring the Lusitania
(1995), Robert D. Ballard with Spencer Dunmore;
The Last Voyage of the Lusitania
(1956, 1996), A.A. Hoehling and Mary Hoehling;
The Lusitania
(2000), Daniel Allen Butler; and
Seven Days to Disaster
(1981), Des Hickey and Gus Smith.

Also useful were
Lost Liners
(1997), Robert D. Ballard, Rick Archbold and Ken Marschall;
The Lusitania
(1972), Colin Simpson;
The Lusitania Disaster
(1975), Thomas A. Bailey and Paul B. Ryan;
The Lusitania’s Last Voyage
(1915), Charles E. Lauriat, Jr.; and
The Military History of the Lusitania
(1965), Louis L. Snyder. Of these, Simpson’s book is probably the best known and most widely circulated, and provided me with information about Leach and the stowaways, as well as some nice details about the
sinking. Some of Van Dine’s movements during the sinking are drawn from Lauriat’s experiences.

I also viewed two documentaries,
Sinking the Lusitania
(2001), written by its director John Booth with David Davis; and
National Geographic: Last Voyage of the Lusitania
(1994), directed by Peter Schnall and written by Patrick Prentice. The latter follows Robert Ballard’s exploration of the shipwreck, which dispelled some theories about the cause of the sinking. Both documentaries were helpful.

My portrait of Elbert Hubbard drew upon
Elbert Hubbard of East Aurora
(1926), Felix Shay; “Elbert Hubbard: Warrior with Words,” an article by Norman Carlise in the April, 1955 issue of
Coronet
; and various Roycrofters publications, in particular issues of
The Philistine
. Much material on Hubbard is available on the Internet, including several pages of his aphorisms. Most of what Hubbard says in this novel comes from his writing and speeches and other quoted sources; his feelings about Mr. and Mrs. Isador Straus, the tragic couple who died on the
Titanic,
are from an article he wrote, rather presciently. Alfred Vanderbilt material was drawn in part from
Who Killed Society?
(1960), Cleveland Amory, although Vanderbilt—like Hubbard—was covered in detail in various
Lusitania
books. Ideas for period apparel were aided by Maryanne Dolan’s
Vintage Clothing 1880–1960
(1987). The material on S.S. McClure and Edward Rumely came from Loughery’s Van Dine biography and the excellent
Success: the Life and Times of S.S. McClure
(1963) by Peter Lyon.

The government opened postwar reparations hearings that enabled businesses and individuals to make claims for losses caused by Germany’s actions during the war,
including the
Lusitania
sinking. Various government publications of the United States and Germany Mixed Claims Commission and other reparations tribunals served as perhaps the most useful source of information on
Lusitania
passengers. Here we found the information on Charles Williamson’s shady deals, which came to light when his relatives made claims on papers of his describing art and other assets that, under investigation, proved not to exist.

Also used were various issues of
The New York Times
from right before and after the tragedy.
Times
coverage provided the background on Madame DePage and the dock scandal that grew out of the German blockade.

This was a difficult novel for many reasons, not the least of which was my writing much of it in the aftermath of the September 11, 2001, tragedies. Such an event calls into question the value of entertainment—and for a number of days, I did not feel much like playing the role of entertainer—and proved particularly troubling to a writer in the process of creating a confection based around another tragedy of war.

That the
Lusitania
prefigured so much of the September 11 tragedies—one of my references reported a survivor comparing the swift sinking of the ship to “the collapse of a great building on fire”—made this task both more distressing and, finally, rewarding. Through the distance of history, in the guise of entertainment, I could explore some of the same issues that plague us almost a century later. I hope I have provided not only escape, but a morsel or two of food for thought, and that this mystery novel is in no way disrespectful to the gravity of such dire events.

I am grateful to my editor, Natalee Rosenstein of Berkley Prime Crime; when I was drowning in research
materials, Natalee—who had in the first place suggested the
Lusitania
as a “disaster mystery” subject—threw me a life preserver by extending my deadline. My friend and agent, Dominick Abel, lent his usual support, and also helped buy me valuable time. And my wife, Barb—in a stressful period—was as always the best first mate a skipper could hope for. Unlike Elbert Hubbard’s wife, Alice, however, she always had plenty to say.

About the Author

Max Allan Collins has earned an unprecedented eleven Private Eye Writers of America “Shamus” nominations for his historical thrillers, winning twice for his Nathan Heller novels,
True Detective
(1983) and
Stolen Away
(1991).

A Mystery Writers of America “Edgar” nominee in both fiction and nonfiction categories, Collins has been hailed as “the Renaissance man of mystery fiction.” His credits include five suspense-novel series, film criticism, short fiction, songwriting, trading-card sets and movie/TV tie-in novels, including
In the Line of Fire, Air Force One
and the
New York Times
–best-selling
Saving Private Ryan
.

He scripted the internationally syndicated comic strip
Dick Tracy
from 1977 to 1993, is co-creator of the comic-book features
Ms. Tree, Wild Dog
and
Mike Danger
, has written the
Batman
comic book and newspaper strip, and the mini-series
Johnny Dynamite: Underworld
. His graphic novel,
Road to Perdition
, is the basis of the
DreamWorks feature film starring Tom Hanks and Paul Newman, directed by Sam Mendes.

As an independent filmmaker in his native Iowa, he wrote and directed the suspense film
Mommy,
starring Patty McCormack, premiering on Lifetime in 1996, and a 1997 sequel,
Mommy’s Day
. The recipient of a record five Iowa Motion Picture Awards for screenplays, he wrote
The Expert,
a 1995 HBO World Premiere; and wrote and directed the award-winning documentary
Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane
(1999) and the innovative
Real Time: Siege at Lucas Street Market
(2000).

Collins lives in Muscatine, Iowa, with his wife, writer Barbara Collins, and their teenage son, Nathan.

*
Van Dine refers here, obliquely, to a drug addiction that he battled, off and on, throughout his younger years, when opium and marijuana were weaknesses of his artistic temperament. He wrote of his problem only once, in a 1917 essay for
The Medical Review of Reviews,
in which he rather farsightedly made the statement, “Drug addiction is a disease. The fact that it is self-imposed does not alter its status.” M.A.C.

*
Frohman was forty-seven.

*
Twenty-four-by-fifty.

*
The pair of Regal Suites, on either side of the Promendade Deck, catered to the crème de la crème of transatlantic travellers; each suite offered a dining room, two bedrooms, a bath and toilet, and sitting rooms for maids and valets.

*
Of the seventy-seven positions he had attempted to fill, Staff Captain J.C. Anderson managed only forty-one.

*
As he reports it, Van Dine has organized the tour in a fashion that suits his literary intentions; but he perhaps gives a false impression of the geography of the ship. The upper decks, A and B, were shared by the first and second classes, and Decks C and D were shared by the first, second and third classes. Only Deck E was exclusively third class (cabins only). Segregation of classes was accomplished in various ways; the Saloon dining room on D Deck, for example, was separated from the Second Cabin dining room by a network of galleys and pantries.

*
A typical example would be a piece of hollow lead tubing with a circular disc of copper dividing it into two chambers, one filled with pitric acid, the other with sulfuric acid; a wax plug at either end would make the mini-firebomb airtight. The thickness of the copper disc could act in effect as a timing device, determining whether within days or hours when the acids would meet, and combust.

*
Van Dine’s sense that the liner had reduced speed was correct, though by mid-morning of Sunday, May 2, the fog had cleared, and the order for “full astern” again was given. By noon, the
Lusitania
had logged only 501 nautical miles, putting her south of Nova Scotia—meager progress for a ship that had once set a record of 617 miles in a day. With a reduced number of boilers operating, and the battery of 192 furnaces only three-quarters fired, the ship was capable of little more.

*
The suites had been decorated by various well-known English firms in such styles as Empire, Georgian, Queen Anne, Sheraton, Louis XV, Louis XVI and Colonial, with panelling and furniture utilizing satinwood, mahogany, sycamore and walnut. Suites and “special cabins” had modelled ceilings, ornamental lights and gilt fittings on doors and furniture.

*
Van Dine’s somewhat snide opinion aside, for Vanderbilt this was a meaningful act. The millionaire always exhibited his horses at Olympia, and had transported twenty-six horses, sixteen coaches and a team of grooms and assistants across the Atlantic.

*
The
Titanic
took four hours to sink; the
Lusitania,
by some accounts, as little as fifteen minutes.

*
Even with the
Cameronia
passengers, the
Lusitania
was underbooked. While second class was over capacity with 600 passengers, third class had 367 bookings out of a possible 1,186; and first class had 290 where 552 could be accommodated. Still, Turner was in a sense correct, as the 1,257 aboard represented the largest number of passengers on a single crossing since the start of the war.

*
Existing blueprints of the
Lusitania
indicate two hospital rooms for men and one for women, side by side on the shelter deck, mid-ship and somewhat aft. The brig, however, is not indicated on these plans, though it is clear from numerous sources that the ship indeed had a brig, which (according to Van Dine, at least) was one of those two hospital rooms designated for men.