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Julia and Flor O’Sullivan were on their way home. But, as they boarded the RMS Lusitania, in New York, on 1st May 1915, the couple looked forward to the trip with mixed feelings. They were travelling back to Kilgarvan at the request of Flor’s father to take over the management of the family farm. Good fortune has smiled on them during their time on America and Julia was not attracted by the prospect of the uncertainties of agricultural life. Particularly having experienced a relatively prosperous life with secure employment in what author Edward S. Martin in his 1909 book The Wayfarer in New York had christened ‘The Big Apple’.
The Lusitania, a product of Glasgow’s John Brown shipyard, was the last word in passenger ships. It had been commissioned by the Cunard line to counter the threat to profit share posed by the new faster craft of rival companies involved in the North Atlantic trade. Bigger engines, more passenger capacity and luxurious first-class accommodations made it the speediest, largest, best outfitted vessel of the time. The O’Sullivan’s didn’t run to a first-class cabin but as a result of their friendship with the ship’s purser, they had the best second-class cabin near the walkway used by the high-end customers. As Flor had worked in New York’s up-market Stuyvesant Club, many of them were known to him. So they settled in for what Julia felt, was a second honeymoon adventure.
By the time the Lusitania had left New York on its way to Liverpoool, the war to end all wars, World War I, had been underway for eight months. In return for British government subsidies toward the blue riband ship’s construction, Cunard had agreed to a design which would enable the super-liner to be utilised as an Armed Merchant Cruiser when necessary. Consequently, compartments were fitted for the carriage of ammunition. The designation as an AMC was still extant in 1915 and the cargo inventory included, 200,000 rounds of rifle cartridges, 1,250 empty shell cases, and 18 cases of non-explosive fuses. So, the commanders of the German u-boats which were blockading British waters at the time, viewed the ship as a legitimate target. The German Embassy in the USA had in fact published advertisements in fifty American newspapers detailing the risks entailed in travelling on the vessel. On 7th May off the coast of Co.Cork near Kinsale, U-20 one of two u-boats patrolling the Celtic Sea and which had already sunk two craft in the previous twenty-four hours, happened upon the liner and fired the fatal torpedo at 2.10pm. In total, 1,195 lives were lost within eighteen minutes.
After the alarm was sounded, the O’Sullivan’s retrieved a bag containing their life-savings and share certificates from their cabin. Pat Callan, a shipboard friend waited by a recue station for their return. Flor and Pat jumped into a lifeboat but Julia refused to go with them. Flor rejoined her on the flooded deck. A moment later the boat broke from its stanchions and overturned into the water and Pat Callan drowned. The pair then jumped into the water. Non-swimmer Flor clung to her life-jacket as she swam away from the sinking ship. Eventually she lost consciousness and was separated from her husband. She was spotted and picked up by a naval patrol boat and taken to Kinsale. Flor and herself were reunited a few days later, in Cork city. The leather bag containing their personal fortune was lost as they escaped the wreck. However it was recovered and delivered to Queenstown. Four months later to the day, it was returned safely to her in Kilgarvan.
The sinking of the Lusitania had a great impact on the way that the war was perceived on this side of the Atlantic. Riots broke out in Liverpool. Not surprisingly perhaps, as the city supplied stewards, seamen and labourers to the trans-Atlantic merchant fleet. In Ireland the post-disaster impact was significant. The British government and their loyalists were quick to employ the sinking as a recruiting tool in this country. Indeed, declarations were made that the German Kaiser had declared war on Munster. It has also been theorised that the British sacrificed the Lusitania which was not protected by destroyers while sailing into a recognised war zone, in order to force America to declare war and fight alongside the western alliance. The American President Woodrow Wilson didn’t initially take the bait, if such it was, but did bring his country into the conflict in April 1917.
In 1930, Annascaul native sculptor Jerome Connor was commissioned by the Lusitania’s New York Memorial Committee to construct a memorial to those lost. Intended to be erected at Cobh formerly Queenstown, controversy attended the work from the start. Initially, the local shopkeepers objected to the sculpture as it detracted from their frontage. Connor died before the job was completed and the funding ran out. It stood, lacking its Angel of Peace crowning feature, until pressure was applied from both home and abroad to get the piece finished. Sculptor Domhnall Ó Murchadha had possession of the cast of the angel and the monument was topped off in 1970. It is now a fitting reminder of what author Senan Molony, in his book ‘Lusitania. An Irish Tragedy’ described as the single worst atrocity of Irish history.
