#also just throw him entirely overboard next time george | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

black & white

request: from nonnie: ASDFGhjkl. Why are your fics so CUTE? 😭 Can I request a cute and cheesy George proposing to the fem!reader—and they’re wedding? 💜

desc: a love story unfolded via a timeline of events and colors. based on the song ‘black and white’ by niall horan

pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k

warning(s): lil bit of angst, alcohol, some sexual content if you squint but it stops before things ~heat up~

A/N: this is just pure fluff. may or may not have cried at the cheesiness. idk. i’m a cheesy gal. can’t help it. i’m in love with a fictional character. sorry i went a tad overboard with this. also let’s pretend ~voldy~ doesn’t exist in this k? reminder that my requests are currently closed, i am merely working through the requests already in my inbox. i do not give permission for my work to be posted on any other platform.

Red

Red, hot fury swept through your bones as you watched him laugh hysterically alongside his brother. You balled your fists together, ready to throw a punch, but you knew your mum would lock you in your room until you were forty years of age if you even thought of throwing hands.

George Weasley was a pretentious little git. It was bad enough that he was your neighbour and you had to see him and his equally annoying twin in the village nearly every day, but what made it even worse was that for whatever reason, he’d chosen you to be on the receiving end of all of his pranks. His mother, Molly, was not for it -- she often gave her sons a solid tongue lashing, but it clearly never made an impact, for each and every day they were back to their normal mischief, seeking out ways to make you shake with anger.

“Weasley!” you squeaked as he and his brother ran back across the field toward their home. You loathed the idea of being in the same school as him in just two years time. At least here, at home, you could escape to your own house and your own room, far away from the boy who teasingly threw a red paint balloon all over you and your new dress. But at school, well -- the castle was only so big, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure how far away from him you’d be able to get.

You watched as he and Fred ran away, their giggles echoing through the air on top of the hill. You looked down at your ruined dress and screamed. You reckoned you’d never be able to love the colour red ever again -- not when it had ruined your beautiful purple dress, and especially when it was the colour of his annoying, messy hair.

Yellow

“I’m really sorry.”

He was standing across from you in the field. You thought about telling him that you needed to take four showers in order to get all of the red paint from your hair, and that your dress was permanently stained, but instead you folded your arms across your chest and huffed a bit. Not even magic could salvage it.

“I promise, I mean it,” he squeaked, as if he could read your mind. He seemed sincere, but he was always getting into all types of trouble, wasn’t he? Perhaps he was as good a liar as he was a pranker.

You kicked at the dirt, unsure of what to say. “You ruined my dress.”

“I know, I’m really sorry,” he said again, “it was all Freddie’s doing! I know he normally takes charge of pranks, but blimey, I told him it wasn’t a good idea.”

You arched your eyebrows up in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah,” George told you. The wind ruffled the leaves on the tree next to you both, and you watched him tentatively as a big smile split his face. He wandered over to the tree trunk and picked at the flowers that were growing at the base. Then he turned around, marched right over to you, and handed them to you.

Yellow dandelions. You peered down at them, and then looked up at him in surprise. This wouldn’t fix your dress, but he was trying, at least. You noticed the dimples that appeared on his cheeks when he smiled. “Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

You couldn’t help it; you blushed and looked toward the ground. You picked a bit at the flowers and met George’s gaze once again. “You still owe me, Weasley.”

You both heard Molly calling him for dinner. “Okay, mum!” he called back, his voice echoing against the wind. He turned back toward you. “Promise. I owe you. I also promise to kick Fred’s arse since it was his idea anyway.”

A squeak of a giggle emitted from your lips and you watched as George Weasley skipped all the way home.

Blue

All of Ravenclaw house erupted into cheers as the colours of the Great Hall changed to celebrate the momentous occasion of your house winning the Quidditch Cup. It had been a neck to neck match against Gryffindor, but had you not caught the snitch before Harry, they would have had it in the bag for the third year in a row.

“At the risk of sounding like I’m pro Ravenclaw, I’ve got to say, you guys put up a great match,” you whirled around in the crowd and saw George standing in front of you. He had his hands in his pockets and he shrugged, clearly upset at a Gryffindor loss, but at least they hadn’t lost to Slytherin, right? “You really are a wicked Seeker.”

“Thanks, Weasley,” you said triumphantly, both pleased with yourself for winning but also feeling a little bit guilty for beating Gryffindor.

“When did you get so good anyway?”

“Hmm,” you placed your hand to your chin and pretended to be deep in thought, “do you mean, how did I get to be so incredible? I don’t have an answer for you, truthfully, reckon I was just born with it.”

Students filtered around you both, and you watched him laugh as blue confetti fell around the both of you and the rest of the Great Hall. Personally you thought it was a little much, but the captain had insisted. You met George’s gaze again though, and rolled your eyes.

“Oi, mate,” you heard Fred call. He reached his twin and threw an arm around his shoulders, “what’re you doing over here, conversing with the enemy?” You rolled your eyes yet again, something you found yourself doing quite often with the two of them, and Fred just grinned obnoxiously at you. “Only joking, Y/N. I suppose if anyone had to beat us, we’re glad it’s Ravenclaw. But if you repeat that, we’ll deny it, I swear to Merlin.”

“My lips are sealed, Freddie.”

You bid them both adieu before turning back to your house, celebrating and clinking your goblets of pumpkin juice together, and through the yelps and the cheers, you missed George say to Fred that he actually quite liked the way the Great Hall looked, all decorated in blue.

Orange

“How about you get to work on the ground Unicorn horn, and I’ll try and get this water crystalized?” you offered.

Today’s lesson was to brew the Oculus Potion, in the event any of you ever needed to restore someone’s sight. In an attempt to separate them, Snape had paired George with you and Fred with another Ravenclaw who didn’t look happy at all at the prospect of having him as her partner. You peered over the cauldron at George and said, “No worries. We’ve only got thirteen steps. I reckon if we keep at this without any distractions, we’ll be finished before the rest of class.”

“Better get cracking, then,” George replied.

The two of you worked in comfortable silence; you tensed a few times when Snape meandered by your table, peering down into your cauldron and scoffing, for you were certain that an attempt at any type of potion would never live up to his unrealistic expectations of two sixteen-year-olds.

A little while later, you realized that the heat emitting from all of the cauldrons was making the entire classroom incredibly warm. “Blimey, could he open a bloody window, or something?” you asked, ignoring the fact that there were absolutely no windows in the dungeons. George laughed and continued to add the crystalized water into your cauldron as you pulled your sweater over your head, leaving you in your white button down and blue and grey tie. You pulled your hair back off of your neck and said, “Alright, be sure to only add the water until it turns indigo, George.”

The poor lad hadn’t been paying attention, because your potion was far past indigo at this point. In fact, it looked as though it had turned a deep, navy blue, bordering on black, as George peered at you with soft eyes and continued to pour in the crystalized water, not realizing that he was messing up your carefully brewed potion. A snapping noise pulled him from his thoughts, and a slight explosion erupted from your cauldron and caused black smoke to cover George’s face and hair.

Most of the class began to laugh, but Snape angrily shushed them and sauntered over to the two of you, clearly giddy beyond belief that he was able to deduct points from both of your houses for causing such a ruckus in his precious dungeons. George wiped a bit of the soot from his forehead as you poured in the antidote and giggled.

“Merlin, I’m sorry -- didn’t mean to get points taken from your house.”

“Eh, it was bound to happen sooner or later.. don’t worry about it. Look! Good as new,” you clapped your hands together as the potion turned to the desired shade of orange before the final two steps. You met George’s look through the orange haze over your cauldron and asked him, “What had you so distracted anyway, Weasley?”

“Oh, erm -- nothing,” he replied a bit quickly. It didn’t go unnoticed how he’d stumbled over his words and immediately went back to looking rather intently at the directions. You bit back a smile and looked back down at yours too, unable to rid yourself of the nerves bubbling up inside of you as George looked up once again, stealing glances at you through the orange mist as nerves overtook him, too.

Green

“You had no right to do that! What the bloody hell were you thinking?”

George was standing across from you on the empty dance floor; the Yule Ball had ended abruptly and each and every student had filtered from the Great Hall and back to their respective dormitories, per the teachers. The two of you had managed to stay somehow, now more than ten feet away; you looked at one another with envy as a dramatic scene unfurled between you both.

The entire night had been nothing but a dream, up until that one dance. You’d waltzed in, your light green dress swaying beautifully near your ankles, your hand wrapped around your date’s arm. You waved to your friends, who stood with their respective dates as well, and promised yourself you’d catch up with them at the end of the night when you’d undoubtedly have stories to tell them of the most magical evening of your life.

Except that wasn’t how it worked out, had it?

“He was all over you!” George called, and you noticed how prominent the veins in his hands were when he threw them up in the air. “You said no, didn’t you? He asked you to come back to his dorm and you’d said no. Did you expect me to stand there and do nothing when he grabbed your wrists and tried to pull you there?”

George was right. You had said no, and truthfully, the way your date had grabbed you and attempted to drag you back to his room had really frightened you. You reckoned it was the firewhisky he’d drunk earlier that evening -- he wasn’t violent or anything, but he seemed desperate to get you there. All George had done was step in and stand up for you, so why on earth should you be angry at him?

You didn’t want to give George the satisfaction of letting him know that he was right. You were mad at him for other reasons, anyway. It should’ve been you that he asked to the ball, not that other disturbingly annoying Beauxbatons girl. It’s like he’d picked her particularly because he knew her annoying, bubbly personality and thick French accent would get right under your skin.

You softened a bit as you took a deep breath. “I appreciate what you did, George, but it wasn’t your place. I can take care of myself. He nearly knocked you right out!”

George winced at your words and brought a hand to his black and blue eye. He hadn’t even had the time to grab some ice and place it to the injury, and it was now rather swollen. “I don’t care if he knocked me to the bloody ground, I wasn’t going to let him do that to you!”

You couldn’t help it; anger took you over and you were saying things you shouldn’t have before you could second guess yourself. “Well you know what, George? Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!”

You knew your words hurt him, but you didn’t care. He looked as though he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him; he stepped backward and faltered a bit. His breathing became heavy and irregular. “You already had your date when I asked her, Y/N -- don’t you dare try and pin this on me.”

He was right, yet again. You couldn’t help it. Big, fat tears were falling down your face now and you reckoned you wouldn’t be able to salvage the rest of the hideousness that was this evening. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and noticed the smears of black mascara and eyeliner on your skin. He inched forward now and opened his arms, but you backed away, still not ready to show him any affection.

You were being a git, but the truth was, you’d waited until the very last possible second for George to ask you to the ball. So when he didn’t, you begrudgingly agreed to the Hufflepuff who’d stepped forward and asked you himself. And as you walked swiftly passed George and up the steps to your common room, you realized that though you’d said yes, your heart had been with the Weasley boy you so adored the entire evening.

In truth, what he’d done was brave and full of love and passion. But you were still filled with hurt.

The green monster of jealousy that you’d felt when you’d watched him dance with his date was such a vice, but you just couldn’t help how you felt.

You left George alone in the desolate Great Hall as he let his head fall into his hands, pushing down his fury and tears.

Grey

You hadn’t gone back to him, that boy from the Yule Ball. You thought about it, but you figured you’d spare George more anger.

He’d approached you, your date, the day afterwards, apologizing profusely for his behaviour and how embarrassed he was at the whole ordeal. He’d asked you for lunch, only if you were okay, and you politely declined. “Friends,” you’d said, and he smiled pitifully, but gratefully, and took your hand in his to shake it.

It was so stupid, wasn’t it? Fighting with George over this. So he hadn’t asked you to the Yule Ball, so what? It wasn’t the end all, be all, was it? And he’d stood up for you, hadn’t he? When things had gotten a little out of control. He hadn’t been your date, but he had been your saviour.

It had only been a week since the dance and you two hadn’t said a word to one another. Fred had begged you too. “Come on, Y/N, you know he’s real sorry. Can’t you just forgive him? Blimey, it’s a right difficult thing to do, splitting my time between you both.”

You merely pressed your lips together and huffed. “He can come apologize to me himself, Fred. He doesn’t need you to do it for him.”

But later that afternoon, you figured, why wait? This whole thing was so dramatic and stupid. And so after rereading the same page eight times due to your lack of concentration, you jumped up from your chair in the Ravenclaw common room and made way toward the Great Hall, as fast as your legs could carry you. You were just going to tell him exactly that -- that this entire thing was dumb, and that you were thankful for him, and that bloody hell, you missed him. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic -- it had only been six days, right? You couldn’t help it. You missed him. You missed him a lot.

The thought of finally speaking to him after a very dramatic week apart made your heart flutter, and a very wide smile split your face just as you were about to round the last bend before the Great Hall.

And then you saw it. Them. Tucked away in a corner near a deserted classroom -- tangled together, George’s hands on her waist, hers in his long red hair. Her lips nearly on his. Smiling, giggling. Kissing him.

That bloody annoying Beauxbatons girl.

You stopped short and nearly tripped over your own two feet. You opened your mouth to speak but just let your mouth tremble in silence as you watched them snog one another. Her laugh was so painfully sugary sweet, you felt as though you’d like to rip your own hair out.

You were surprised how quickly the sight of them had sent your heart plummeting into your stomach. Somewhere in the few moments when you stood there in shock, your vision had become blurry and your face had become wet. You wiped at it with your sweater sleeve and sniffled quietly so they wouldn’t hear you. You spun on your heel and sped back toward your common room, wondering what the bloody hell had come over you when you thought of apologizing to him. You just wanted to get back to your dorm. Or perhaps back to your house in Ottery St. Catchpole. Stupid, silly girl you were.

If only you knew that George had spotted you before you’d left and froze solid in the spot he was standing, ignoring the forwardness of the Beauxbatons girl attached to his arm, his heart and mind chasing you all the way home.

Purple

The Ravenclaw common room was completely empty except for you. You always did this, though -- each and every year, you were always the last to finish packing. Not because you were a procrastinator, but because you hated admitting to yourself that another year was over, and you were another year closer to impending graduation.

Someone popped through the door and said your name softly. You turned and saw George standing there with a small smile on his face. “Hey,” he said, “train’s here. You almost ready to go?”

You groaned and looked back down at your trunk, now fully packed. “If I’ve got to be.” You felt like an absolute idiot that those few words brought tears to your eyes so easily. “Oi, here I go again.”

George laughed lightly and pulled you into a hug. “We’ll be back in no time, you’ll see again how quickly the summer holidays go.”

“But George, it’s our last year!” you cried. And then you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, because you didn’t fancy the idea of boarding the train with smudged makeup and a red nose. “Anyway, shall we?”

When you grabbed your trunk and headed toward the door, George gently took your hand in his and turned you around. “I’ve got something for you actually.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him and clapped your hands together. “A present? It’s not even my birthday.”

But then you wondered if it was actually a present he wanted to give you, because he took your other hand in his and squeezed them, a serious look on his face. Your features twisted into that of confusion, and you’d be lying if you said that your heartbeat didn’t increase at the sight of him looking at you so earnestly. “What is it?”

“I’ve been a real git this year. Specifically, the Yule Ball. And a little while after that.”

You laughed and playfully shoved him. Though you still felt the sting of those few weeks, you two had managed to patch things up. He hadn’t lasted that long with that Beauxbatons girl anyway. “George, we’ve been over this, c’mon -- you were only doing what you thought was right. I’ve forgiven you, you know.”

“I know,” he smiled, and you could tell that he was equally as glad as you were that you two had placed that argument behind you. But what you two hadn’t touched on since then was what you’d said to him in a fit of fury: Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!

Of course he’d wanted to ask you. He’d wanted to ask you more than anything in the entire world, but each and every time he’d opened his mouth to say something, he couldn’t. Bloody nerves, and all that. Then he went and acted like a prat, making you cry, and he vowed to himself that he’d never make you cry again, unless it were happy tears.

“I realized I’ve never properly made it up to you -- not asking you to the the Yule Ball in the first place, and that time when we were nine.”

You raised your eyebrows suspiciously. “When we were nine? What the bloody hell happened when we were nine?”

And then he pulled from his pocket the most beautiful lavender pendant you ever did see. The circular stone was outlined in the same silver as the chain, and the sun flooding in from the windows made it sparkle more than anything you’d ever seen in your life. Your breath caught in your throat and you looked back and forth from the necklace to George, and back again.

“I ruined your purple dress, remember?” he asked you. He laughed a bit, probably thinking about the ridiculous way you’d looked with red paint splattered all over you. You couldn’t believe he remembered that. “Now, it’s not a dress, but seeing as we’ve grown up a bit since then, I reckoned you’d prefer something a little nicer.” He swallowed over a lump in his throat before continuing. “I never fancied her, you know. That girl from Beauxbatons. I just...” he trailed off, searching for words he couldn’t seem to muster up. You wondered if he could hear the dramatic thump of your heart, beating loudly in the heavy silence. “It doesn’t matter. It was you I wanted to be with that night, and long after. I still do.”

Then he brushed aside your hair and placed the pendant around your neck. You peered at him through blurry vision, and surprised yourself that you were now crying due to the tenderness of his touch and the emotion in his gift and not that you two were about the board the train and leave school, no longer the same two people you were just a few moments ago.

You did the only thing you could think of and you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. You felt his shock, but it took him only mere milliseconds before he was kissing you back. In truth, you’d been wondering what it would feel like to kiss him -- the taste of him, the feel of your limbs entangled together, exactly how high your heart would soar. It was exactly the way first kisses were meant to be -- slow, and easy, and warm, the way it’s supposed to feel after having swam all day long -- your body limp and muscles de-tensing. You moulded perfectly with him, and when gravity (or rather, the first signal of the train’s departure) pulled you from one another, he peered at you with such affection that you felt as though you might explode.

You grabbed the pendant and held in gently in between your fingers, already having memorized the outline of the silver and the different shades of purple within it. “I am so bloody happy you threw red paint at me that day, Weasley.”

He laughed haughtily, throwing his head back before swinging an arm around your waist and pulling your trunk toward the exit of the Ravenclaw common room. “Merlin, me too.”

White

You were sitting at your kitchen table, ignoring the massive amount of work in front of you to admire your other hard work. Your cozy little flat looked just as you always imagined it would, with the added bonus of your boyfriend in the corner of the front entrance, fixing a loose coat hanger on the wall.

Never in your life did you imagine that things could be as perfect as this.

You couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a flat you two would share one day.

You got up and brought with you his half empty glass of wine and handed it to him. Gratefully he took it and sipped before pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead. But then you gently traced his jawline with your finger, down his neck, across his collar bone until he followed your move and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and chaste and everything like your first one had been. But as the alcohol worked its way through your veins, you found yourself pressing yourself harder against him.

A moan of content escaped him as you bit down on his lip and slipped your hands underneath his shirt, hands pressed against his chest. Unashamedly, you pulled him toward your bedroom, and he placed his empty wine glass next to yours on the table as he kicked the door closed.

The two of you fell backwards onto the bed in an entanglement of limbs. He hovered above you, dropping down a bit to press light kisses to your neck, in between your collarbones, behind your ears, against your jawline. You so desperately wanted to feel his weight on top of you, and so you yanked him firmly against you and kissed him in a way that there was no aching way that he wouldn’t be able to tell exactly what you wanted.

He began to undo the buttons on your shirt, taking time to press kisses into your chest at the exposed places before he stopped himself and gently ran his hands across your hips, and then your cheek. His voice was merely a whisper in the deafening silence, “Are you sure?”

He gazed at you with such tenderness and love that you knew he’d stop, if you’d asked him to. He wouldn’t go another inch further if you weren’t ready. And for you, that was more than enough.

“I’m sure.”

He sucked in a breath and dipped down to press lips to yours gently before continuing to make light work of your clothes. He explored every inch of you, and the sensation of his lips gently grazing your skin caused you to arch your back in pleasure. You could feel him smiling against you, wildly in love, handling you with such care as if you were a tiny glass figure he was afraid of breaking. He held you so delicately and worked his way through each and every single one of your wants with slow and gentle hands.

You’d known it was love with him; maybe not consciously, but you’d known it long before now. Love, filled with intensity and desire and longing, in its most vulnerable and fragile form -- pure, and blinding white.

Pink

The summer air wafted in through the open window in the kitchen, and you listened to Mrs. Weasley hum some Muggle song as she set the table for dessert. You placed the finishing touches on the lemon meringue pie you baked, special because it was George’s favourite and Mrs. Weasley had insisted.

You had to admit, he’d always had the outside exterior of a tough guy, but owning a business did absolute wonders for his confidence. You noticed the way he stood up a little straighter, smiled a little bigger, and most of all, just how much he gushed about all the plans you two would be able to act on, now that you were both making income of your own.

“Merlin’s beard, Y/N, you’ve absolutely knocked it out of the park with this pie, if I do say so myself.” Arthur’s praise was nothing short of wonderful; you felt the tips of your ears turn pink at his compliments. By the way Ron slouched back in his chair, looking rather chuffed indeed, you could tell he felt the same exact way. Especially when he reached for the last piece, but Hermione slapped his hand away.

“Oh my!” Molly yelped suddenly. You jumped in surprise in your seat. “Oh, Georgie dear, would you mind wandering into the field before dark? I’d love some wildflowers for the table,”

“Sure thing, mum.” George replied before turning to you and squeezing your hand. “Want to tag along?”

You said, “Of course” at the exact same time Ron said “I’ll come along too, I could use a good walk” and if you hadn’t been so focused on George’s tender gaze, you almost would’ve missed Fred silently hissing at Ron and Hermione slapping his hand yet again. “On second thought,” Ron swallowed thickly, “I’d better stay here and help you clean up, mum.”

“Atta boy, Ronniekins,” Molly said. To you and George, she continued, “You two better get going -- not long now before it turns dark!”

George stood and pulled you to your feet. “You coming, love?”

“I go where you go.”

About twenty minutes later, as the setting sun had blended with the light purples and pinks of the sky, you’d found yourself with a rather beautiful bouquet of wildflowers for Molly. You turned to George, who was leaning against the tree and smiling at you, and asked, “Shall we get going darling? Don’t want to be too late. I reckon your mum will come out here searching for us if we spend an evening among the stars.”

“Doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea, actually.” His grin deepened, and then he said, “you’re lucky I don’t have any pranks up my sleeve right now.”

You look up at the tree and recognized the place where he’d infuriated you all those long years ago. You rolled your eyes and shook your head before twirling in your dress. “I am lucky. I was able to get a new dress after the one you so lovingly ruined. Though I will admit -- I wasn’t all that big of a fan of those puffy sleeves. This one’s much more adult.”

George arched his eyebrow in surprise before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “Oh yes it is.”

You slapped him playfully and pointed your finger at him. “Alright you prat, calm yourself, you’ll have to wait until we get back to our flat for any funny business.”

But then you realized, as George’s features turned from mischievous to genuine within the matter of seconds, that there was definitely more pressing matters than funny business on his mind.

And then he was telling you how he’d only teased you back then because he’d found you so bloody cute, and how he should’ve asked you to the Yule Ball and regretted every single day that he didn’t, and how he’d never met anyone who could play Quidditch quite as well as you, and how bloody happy he’d been when you’d kissed him that day in the Ravenclaw common room. And then knelt down and he asked it, the words you’d imagined since you were a little girl, strung together with such fondness and emotion and tenderness that you weren’t quite sure how you were standing upright.

You’d already begun to nod quickly through your tears before he finished, but would he really be George Weasley if he didn’t tease you, just a little? “Say yes,” he laughed, “say yes and marry me and be my wife for as long as you’ll have me.”

He slid the ring onto your finger and kissed you and picked you up and whirled you around in the field and held you gently in his arms as though you were a precious glass figurine and he was doing everything in his power to hold you delicately.

“Yes. I say yes.”

Black & White

You asked, When did you first know?

And he answered, I always knew.

You both ran back up the aisle, your white dress fluttering around your ankles, his black suit hugging the curves of his arms, and into the field and away from the party, momentarily, to celebrate your first moments as husband and wife in the place where he’d figured it all out.

He’d known since that afternoon when he’d handed you those yellow dandelions that he would bring you back here one day, to ask you to be his wife. He’d known, in the Ravenclaw common room when he gave you that purple pendant, still dangling from your neck, that one day he’d also give you a ring. He’d known, all those long years ago, that he wanted to marry you, and that you would say yes, when he’d finally ask.

And now, in front of your friends and family, he’d vowed to love you -- love in it’s purest and simplest form, love -- with all it’s sentiment and emotion and vulnerability. He vowed to love you and only you for the rest of his life.

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A Handcrafted Tragedy: The Story of the SS Morro Castle

Tom Burley was having a busy night at work on September 8th 1934. As the radio station manager for WCAP out of Asbury Park, New Jersey it was his job to broadcast the goings on of the world in an accurate, timely manner and tonight there had been a great deal to report. At just after 7:30pm he moved to take a break from the strenuous evening when something caught his eye outside. Smoke, thick smoke, accompanied by a terrible red glow that defied the heavy rain pelting Convention Hall that night. It was headed directly for the building when 200 feet from shore there was a crash, screeching, and finally, and awful stillness with what looked like fire and brimstone blocking out Burley's office windows. As completely shocking as this was, Burley had an idea what he was looking at. He had been talking about it all night, a nightmare that only days before was a glittering paradise in the business of making dreams come true.

When she was new she was a marvel of both technology and luxury, crafted to withstand and protect, but also to inspire awe. The SS Morro Castle was built for the Ward Line of ocean vessels for the purpose of ushering vacationers between New York City and Havana,Cuba on excursions that were affordable while still promising memories to last a lifetime. The cruises ranged from $65 to $160 which made the vacationers range from students to professionals but once on board jobs and titles did not matter, everyone was treated equally. Passengers had their names printed on guest booklets and ornate invitations to the ships's many parties and special events. Stewards and pursers were on hand to carry out any task including being called on as dance partners or buying drinks off the $14 bar account they were each allotted specifically for that purpose. The surroundings were opulent in the styles of Italian Renaissance, Louis XVI era France, and grand old New York. Everything was shining, plush, crisp, sparkling, velveteen, velour, and varnish making everyone on board feel like they were the luckiest people in the world.

Morro Castle brochure (image from www.wardline.com)

One of the many staircases in the Morro Castle

The Morro Castle’s First Class Lounge

The Morro Castle Orchestra

The glamour was a rich coating for the bolts and steel holding it up and the Morro Castle was considered by some to be a structural marvel. She was constructed with a reshaped bow that would cut down on water resistance and streamlined rudders gave her the ability to travel at an unheard of 22 knots. Designer Theodore E. Ferris also designed a system of ducts that ran behind false wood panels allowing the Ward Line to advertise that the ship was "sea-cooled", a huge feature for passengers looking to escape the tropical air. The structure of the Morro Castle was unprecedented in terms of safety with the ship being built to the standards of the U.S. Navy. These specifications, while looking impressive, were not exclusively with the passengers in mind. In 1928 Congress had passed the Jones-White Act which offered shipping companies loans to build new liners provided that the ships would be built to specifications that would allow them to be quickly converted to warships or to be used for troop transport if needed. The ship was also built off the lessons of maritime disasters. As a result of the disaster of the Titanic the Morro Castle was built with nine watertight bulkheads and had enough lifeboats to accommodate 2,000 people, three times the amount of passengers it was designed to carry. The 1904 tragedy of the General Slocum ensured that the Morro Castle was equipped with fire detection technology with a web of tubes installed in the cargo hold, engine room, and staterooms that were used for smoke detection. One lesson that was not learned from the Titanic was not to exaggerate. The ship was advertised as being "the safest ship afloat" and it was claim that was proudly propagated by all members of the crew, especially the ship's captain, Captain Robert Renison Willmott, who could often be heard telling his passengers "There isn't a ship like her" and "you are safer on this ship than you are on 42nd Street and Broadway in New York.”

Captain Willmott had been with the Ward Line for over thirty years and he loved his job. After his appointment as captain of the Morro Castle his warm interaction with passengers and friendly demeanor elevated him to be yet another of the much anticipated attractions during the cruise. Travelers planned their vacations to make sure he was not away, they would meet him for drinks in his cabin and marvel at his many stories, and his entrance into the dining room every evening was a highly anticipated event. Eating at the captain's table for meals was a privilege and those lucky enough to grab a seat spent the time listening as Willmott told tales of his time at sea. One of his favorites was how a year earlier he had successfully brought the Morro Castle home after being trapped in a hurricane for two days. He showed everyone the watch he earned for the deed and would often comment how he and the ship were inseparable, their names were one in the same.

Captain Robert Renison Willmott

Wilmott was a beloved captain who loved his ship but on the evening of September 7th 1934 a very different man was sitting in the captain's quarters, one that had been warn down by a string of issues with other crew members on board. The truth was that while the ship was a paradise for passengers, working behind the scenes was an entirely different scenario. The Morro Castle was consistently understaffed and the staff that was there was paid only $35 a month. The food was poor quality, the living quarters were cramped, and beginning your day at 5:30am meant no break until 2pm and then enjoying only a small window of time before launching into evening meals and plans. Upon arriving back home in New York the crew had to fly into action with only seven hours in between docking and leaving again with a whole new set of vacationers. It was mandatory that the ship be ready to leave New York city by 4pm, it doubled as a cargo ship with a contract to carry all U.S. mail. Signing off the boat to visit family was highly discouraged and normally cost you your job, the Depression was fresh in many minds and there was always going to be someone else eager to take your place on board. Even those working on the Morro Castle with very specific tasks were told that when they were not busy they were required to mop floors and polish brass. Most employees stayed silent, but on August 4th 1934 second radio operator George I. Alagna had decided he had enough. He wrote up a petition about their workplace treatment but only ended up tearing it apart when he failed to get enough signatures to bring the issue to Willmott. Alagna did not know it but word of his petition had already reached Willmott, and he was not pleased. The captain immediately contacted the Radio Marine Corporation of America and demanded that Alagna be fired upon their next arrival back home. Willmott left the ship in New York expecting to be rid of the abrasive radio operator but when he returned to the Morro Castle just before departure he was met by a Radio Marine Corporation representative who had to inform him that they were unable to find another radio operator, that he was stuck with Alagna, but that Alagna also refused to work. After two hours of deliberation with the Ward Line Alagna was back on board with two targets on his back, one from the Ward Line and one from Willmott who believed he had a dangerously unstable man on board.

Willmott had taken to confiding his concerns with his Chief Radio Operator George White Rogers who had only joined the Morro Castle crew the previous July. Rogers was regarded by many as an odd man. Standing at 6'2" and weighing 250lbs, he was not easy to miss but Rogers avoided people and could not have cared less about the Morro Castle's luxury. He was confident in his work to the point of arrogance and he spent his spare time in his bunk reading. Alagna had grown increasingly hostile to the point that Willmott had spiraled into paranoia. On September 2nd he pulled Rogers into his quarters lamenting about Alagna, "What's the matter with that second operator of yours? I think the man is crazy." He informed Rogers that Alagna was to be fired upon returning to New York but begged Rogers not to say a word because he feared what would happen if Alagna found out. He gave Rogers the key to the emergency room of the ship and told him to make sure Alagna had no access to the radio equipment inside. Now on the evening of September 7th Willmott's paranoia about Alagna reached an all new high. Rogers had spoken to him earlier and reported that he found two bottles of sulfuric acid in the radio room, but that he had saved the day by throwing them overboard. Now speaking with his first officer William Warms, the captain was predicting sabotage, telling him he could not leave his cabin, and that he had to keep the doors locked because he feared Alagna would burst in and throw acid on him. Willmott confided to Warms "I am afraid something is going to happen tonight, I can feel it."

William Warms

Warms left the captain without informing him about his own bizarre encounter with Rogers earlier that day. Smiling suspiciously Rogers confronted Warms saying he requested to speak with Captain Willmott, something he did not have to ask for being a ship's officer. When Warms asked what he wanted to discuss Rogers only smiled more and refused to tell him saying "Best I tell the captain first.” Warms was not the only crew member keeping an odd encounter with Rogers from the captain, the other was George Alagna. Alagna was asleep in his bunk the night before when he was awakened by Rogers approaching him. Rogers reached into a box above Alagna's head and then presented him with two small bottles of liquid. Rogers grinned at Alagna and asked coyly "What are you going to do with these, George?" before strolling away. Alagna had no answer for him. He had never seen the bottles before and he knew for a fact that they were not in the box above his bunk before Rogers entered the room that night.

George White Rogers

Unaware of what was going on with the crew were the many dinner guests seated in the dining hall although they knew something was definitely off that evening. It was the last night of the of their cruise, the Captain's Ball, and their beloved Captain Willmott had yet to make an appearance at 9pm. The passengers did not know what was going on but truthfully, neither did the crew. First officer William Warms had discovered Willmott slumped over his bathtub dead at 7:45 that evening.

As members of the crew gathered in Willmott's cabin Warms took it upon himself to take control, an appointment that technically belonged to Chief Engineer Eban Abbot but which went unchallenged. Cruise director Bob Smith was given the unfortunate task of informing the dinner guests of the unfortunate news and informed them that out of respect for their deceased captain, all evening programs were cancelled. While vacationers branched off into private parties refusing to let their last night of vacation go to waste, Warms took position on the bridge of the Morro Castle and faced a difficult evening in front of him. Not only had his friend died unexpectedly but he was made aware that a hurricane was brewing south of them and they were heading directly into a nor'easter. In telling of his triumph of navigating the Morro Castle of of a hurricane Willmott had always joked that the only damaged sustained was "a few wet towels.” Warms could only hope he would have the same luck as his friend with these storms.

He could not have ever imagined what the upcoming hours would bring.

Rogers ended his shift in the radio room after what became a very busy evening by telling the 3rd radio operator Charles Maki that he was off to bed, but not before going for a little walk. He was one of the few people on board who was thinking of sleep with many still awake at their mini private soirees and others observing how much the winds were picking up around them. When a passenger approached steward Daniel Campbell asking about the smell of smoke just before 3am Campbell was not overly surprised. It was probably a cigarette thrown into a garbage can, no big deal. He walked into the First Class Lounge where the smell grew strong but only found some drunk passengers. He continued through the lounge to the doors ahead of him, one being the Library and the other being the Writing Room. It was inside the Writing Room where Campbell found smoke, lots of smoke, more smoke than could have come from a cigarette in a garbage bin. It was coming from the inside of a storage locker that normally held blankets, cleaning supplies, and paper. The handle was hot to the touch. Just as he opened the door Arthur Pender, a night watchman entered the Writing Room as well. He had seen the smoke coming out of a ventilation shaft and his investigation brought him to Campbell as he opened the locker door. Flames. Huge tongues of fire leaped from the inside of the locker launching themselves out to consume the fresh sea air. Campbell slammed the door shut and the men ran to alert the crew. Pender later said that what struck him was that the flames were not orange, they were blue, the telltale sign of a chemical fire.

The Writing Room of the Oriente (identical to the Morro Castle)

Within minutes the entire Writing Room was engulfed in flames and nearby crew were throwing buckets of water at the fire attempting to put it out with no luck. Not everyone on board was aware there was a catastrophe brewing. Warms walked into the ship's wheelhouse and casually ordered crew members to investigate the engine room to see if there were any problems. Alagna was woken from his sleep by the sounds of people screaming. As soon as he stepped out onto the deck he saw the horrifying glow and knew immediately what was wrong, the Morro Castle was burning up. He went back to the bunks and shook Rogers telling him there was a fire but he did not respond. Only when the 3rd radio announcer came in and softly said "Get up Chief, the ship's on fire" did Rogers suddenly spring from his bunk. Alagna ran to the radio room and was putting on his headset when Rogers burst into the room and shoved him aside taking the headset and telling Alagna to go to the bridge and get orders from Warms. Warms was giving orders, but they were still in the vein of telling crew members to go to the lounge and "take charge.” He had no idea how big the blaze had grown but the realty of the situation quickly hit him and Quartermaster Samuel Hoffman like a fright train. The Derby fire detection system on board was state of the art with a control panel with a small light representing each state room. If a room got over 160 degrees the light turned red and suddenly, all at once, the entire board went red. Smoke engulfed the entire ship and the port side was an inferno but still Warms was not worried, it had not even been fifteen minutes, there were multiple people fighting the fire, and he believed that the amount of smoke increased as fires were extinguished. Clearly the blankets of black air meant his crew was doing a good job. He could not have been more wrong. It was not until 3:05am that he sounded an alarm that went unheard by almost everyone. The only sounds were the screaming of passengers, the roaring of the flames, and the hurricane winds whipping the fire and smoke into an unstoppable force of destruction.

The scene on the decks of the Morro Castle was turmoil. Passengers in various stages of panic exited their cabins looking for an answer as to what to do next. Chief engineer Abbott dressed in his formal uniform and instructed crew members to go into the engine room and see what was going on while he went to the bridge. The chief engineer's primary job was to ensure that the engine room was running because it was the nerve center for the steering of the ship, the electricity, and the operation of the fire pumps. Instead, he headed to the bridge. Another crew member headed to the bridge was Alagna. He had attempted to get to Warms but could not get through the smoke so he returned to the radio room where Rogers sat defiant. Despite the ranging fire engulfing the ship, the heavy smoke, the thrashing winds, and the desperate chorus of screams Rogers flat out refused to send and S.O.S. signal until he got the official order from Warms to do so telling Alagna he had to "play by the rules.” On his second attempt Alagna reached Warms at the bridge and told him Rogers awaited his order. Warms remembered what Captain Willmott had told him about Alagna and all of the trouble he had caused so he opted to ignore him and stalked away without giving the official order. Alagna bolted back to the radio room and yelled at Rogers "They're a bunch of madmen up there!" Rogers calmly turned to Alagna and remarked "Cheer up, it'll turn up all right." Alagna's continued urging to do something about the fire was only met by Rogers telling him "We wait for orders. That's what the regulations say and that's what we'll do." It had been ten minutes since the alarm was sounded and there was still no S.O.S. signal sent. Alagna ran back toward the bridge.

Warms was finally having to admit to himself that the Morro Castle was not going to make it back to New York. The fire, smoke, water, turbulence, screaming, darkness, and paint being blown off the ship created an extremely grim picture for the acting captain but he decided the one thing he could do was try to reposition the ship to cut down on the wind feeding the flames. By now the steering and electricity were gone but he believed he could maneuver the propeller in a way to force the ship to turn. Alagna was back in Warm's ear begging for an order to give to Rogers when he suddenly asked if the Captain's body could be moved to a lifeboat. This request made no sense to Warms who believed Alagna was the man who murdered Willmott. Where was Abbot? The two men pawed through the smoke and found the chief engineer hunched over on the floor near the wheelhouse, wringing his hands and muttering to himself "What are we going to do?" over and over. It was moments later that the quartermaster yelled over at Warms to tell him his plan to turn the ship had failed during the attempt and now the ship was broadside with the wind allowing it to pour through the portholes and windows that had exploded from the heat. The new air only strengthened the fire consuming the ship, this was the worst case scenario.

When Alagna burst back into the radio room at 3:12am Rogers greeted him with an unbelievable message, that he had been sitting and listening to other ship’s communications asking about smoke and if anyone knew if a ship was on fire, but he never interrupted, never told them it was the Morro Castle, and still had not sent an S.O.S. signal. "They're asking about a fire" he said "but we have no orders.” He and Alagna wrapped wet towels over their heads and Alagna ran back out while Rogers continued to listen with his feet resting on the bottom rung of his chair. He could not put his feet on the floor, the heat was melting his shoes. Soon after the remaining electricity went out and the ship screamed into the darkness in response.

Names and pleading screams cut through the air trying to reach faces that could not possibly hear them. Walls of fire and smoke were everywhere, ribbons of paint flew through the air, dangerous winds pummeled the burning ship and people scrambled for a way off. For some it was hopeless, they were rendered blind by the smoke and the glue used on the decks was melting trapping some people to the burning ship by their bare feet. Many chose to jump into the thrashing ocean below thinking they might have better luck with water than with fire. Those lucky few that were able to secure life vests were not guaranteed safety, there were specific instructions on how to use them in each cabin that went unread by many. Unaware that you had to hold the vest down as you hit the water many were knocked unconscious and drowned when the vest hit their chins while others had their necks broken instantly.

A life vest from the Morro Castle sold by Kaminski Auctions

Alagna once again found Warms and begged for Roger's order but it was not until he told him that Roger's heard other ship communications about the possibility of a ship being on fire that he finally gave the official words to send an S.O.S. At 3:25am the signal went out and it was picked up by the Andrea S. Luckenbach and partially by the Monarch of Bermuda despite the intense heat interfering with the transmission signal. Batteries exploded, wires melted, and Rogers began to slip out of consciousness. It was 3:40am when Alagna, dragging the semi-conscious body of Rogers out of the radio room, made their way toward the wheelhouse where they saw Warms and and other crew members fleeing over the bridge to the forecastle, an area inaccessible to passengers. The wheelhouse had finally caught fire and before evacuating Warms set the engines to STOP and dropped the anchor. Alagna and Rogers could hear glass shattering and wood breaking all around them but were able to find a ladder to climb up to the forecastle and join Warms and a dozen other officers. Warms handed Rogers a flashlight and told him there was a ship out there and he should try to get their attention. Rogers flashed a quick S.O.S. and was answered by the Luckenbach asking if they needed assistance. Rogers signaled that they needed help immediately and the Luckenbach responded saying they would send ships. Rogers turned to everyone and declared "We'll all be safe soon. I got off the S.O.S."

As Warms, Alagna, Rogers, and the rest of the crew looked out before them they were greeted with a churning sea of horrors where water was replaced by bodies. The Morro Castle was equipped with enough lifeboats to carry 800 people, over 200 more people that were actually on the boat that night but where were they? What happened to them? Why were there so many heads bobbing in the waves? The widespread flames were partially to blame with many people not being able to get to some of the lifeboats through the fire. Other boats burned still attached to their rigging, others stuck together from the heat. The boats on the port side simply would not launch, some of the mechanisms were painted over during the last paint job preventing the boats from releasing. Some of the launching gear was constructed in a way so that the boats could only be lowered manually from a deck, a procedure put into place in order to avoid boats being launched in a panic. It was now an impossible task. The boats that could be seen were practically empty after being haphazardly launched and most of those on board were not paid passengers. Of the first ninety-eight people to escape on a lifeboat, ninety-two of them were members of the Morro Castle crew. Bodies bobbed in the frothy water while those still with breath grasped onto to them like life preservers, people clung desperately to ropes hanging off the side of the ship, passengers dived off of decks thirty feet in the air and fell like rain while other squeezed out of portholes to escape the fire. And yet, most of the lifeboats did not go back to help. One of the crew members moving away from the scene on a nearly empty lifeboat was Chief Engineer Abbot. Huddled at the foot of the boat he urged the rowers to move away from the burning ship, but said he could not help, that he had cut his hand.

One of the Morro Castle lifeboats making it to shore

Forty-five minuted after the Luckenbach was alerted and turned to help the Morro Castle other ships in the area began to contact it asking if they had reached the burning ship. They reported that they had, and help was desperately needed. The first boat to arrive at the disastrous scene was a 26ft surfboat from the Coast Guard stationed in Sea Girt, New Jersey and they were followed by the Luckenbach, the Monarch of Bermuda, the City of Savannah, the President Cleveland and several more boats from the Coast Guard arriving just after dawn. Throughout all the chaos George Rogers stood with the small cluster of crew members seeming almost pleased with his surroundings. Upon seeing someone preparing to jump he would slowly feign a reaction until they hit the water at which time he would say what a shame, he was just about to leap to their assistance. He repeatedly assured Alagna that they had nothing to worry about, they had kept their heads in the face of disaster. The scene was unprecedented but the rescuing ships worked quickly. They had to, the hurricane that had been in back of the Morro Castle was rapidly catching up to them. Meanwhile, the lifeboat carrying Abbott was approaching shore and when it finally hit the land Abbott warned everyone not to speak to the waiting reporters, "They would never understand.” He tore the insignia off of his uniform, marched up the beach and got into a waiting car which took him to the police.

At 8am the Coast Guard cutter Tampa arrived on the scene and asked Warms if he wanted the Morro Castle towed back to shore. The stand-in captain agreed and the rescuing crew began fighting off the now 12ft waves in order to attach a towline to the hollow and still burning shell. Suddenly, Warms realized that the ship could not be towed anywhere, he had dropped the anchor during his failed attempt to reposition against the winds. There was no power to raise it up. The chain was going to have to be cut. With each link being three inches thick and only having access to a small hacksaw, it was going to be a long project where time was quickly running out. Warms, Rogers, Alagna, and the crew took turns on the chain with Rogers gloating the entire time about his "heroic acts" and how God had singled them out for greatness. When he was not declaring himself a hero he would randomly ask about the fire, why had it spread so quickly? When night watchman Pender told him that the flamed he saw were blue indicating a deliberate chemical cause Rogers said "Guess I was too busy sending out the S.O.S. signal to notice the color of the flames." While the chain was being cut bodies continued to wash up on local beaches and be tossed into the waves. The captain of the Tampa was not aware there were still active rescues taking place and he was not informed of this for two hours after his arrival. Horrified, he quickly sent available boats out hoping it was not too late for some. The chain was finally broken at noon and it took another hour before the crew was loaded into the Tampa and the two ships began to move. Their time had run out, the second hurricane was upon them.

The second storm thrashed so wildly that all rescue attempts had to be called off at 2:30pm despite the fact that people were still washing up all along the edge of New Jersey. The Tampa was only two miles off the coast and they had to be extremely careful not to run aground while dragging the still-burning wreck of the Morro Castle behind them. On the journey back a doctor found Alagna and commented that the resting Rogers was in bed delirious, ranting, semi-conscious, and weak. This made no sense to Alagna who had just spent hours next to Rogers while he stalked about singing his own praises. Alagna entered the room and upon seeing him Rogers launched into rambling tirade about how "they are leaving everything to George and me" before dramatically pretending to pass out. Alagna left the room undoubtedly exhausted but the disaster was not over yet. At 6:12pm the towline dragging the Morro Castle snapped and wound itself around the propellers of the Tampa. There was no choice, the Tampa's anchor had to be dropped and as it stopped the people on board gazed out watching the Morro Castle drift away from them and out into the open storm with absolutely nothing to stop it.

News about the unbelievable disaster of the Morro Castle was all over the headlines and radio stations with people trying to desperately come up with answers, names of survivors, names of the dead, causes, and the fire of the ship quickly became part of everyone's thoughts. One person who had been covering the tragedy was Tom Burley of WCAP in Asbury Park. Before he went on break that night the glowing monster he saw coming out of the fog straight for him was none other than the ship he had been reporting on all day. The Morro Castle was charging at Convention Hall and Burley yelled into his microphone "My God! She's coming in right here!" before the ship hit a jetty 20 feet from shore, turning her sideways, and blocking Burley's windows in Convention Hall with the brightly burning, smoking, screaming side of the Morro Castle. Reporter Thomad Tighe witnessed the crash and described it as "She came toward the shore with fire belching from every porthole. With rain beating down in torrents and a northeast gale blowing, she was a ghost coming out of the night. Fire and smoke drove in sheets over Convention Hall as she came to rest.” The journey of the Morro Castle was finally over, and by the time it ended 134 people were dead.

On the morning of September 8th the Coast Guard arrived in Asbury Park, New Jersey and made their was to the wreck of the Morro Castle. They were not the only ones crossing the beach that day, overnight thousands and thousands of people gathered on the beach to view the still smoking skeleton of what had once been a thing of dreams. For five hours the Coast Guard searched the wreckage and were met with nothing but horror. Decks were strewn with furniture, clothing, purses, shoes, skeletons, and piles of soot that may have been a person only a day before. Some rooms were torched to the point that only black and white walls remained. When Coast Guard director R.W. Hodge touched a railing it burned his hand. By the afternoon the number of people viewing the ship reached nearly 100,000, guided by signs along all the main roads guiding tourists to the spot and lured by the opportunity to pay a small price to go out and touch the wreckage. The same day the Tampa was finally docked in Staten Island, New York after a twelve hour delay due to the tangled towline. The press was waiting for them and they snapped photos and wrote quickly as Rogers was escorted out and away on a stretcher to a hospital. He smiled and waved at the reporters the entire time.

People gather on the Asbury Park boardwalk to view the wreck

All over the country people were asking the same questions, what happened to the Morro Castle? Everyone except the Ward Line who had their lawyers inform the ship's officers that they were not to speak to reporters and that what happened was "entirely an Act of God.” Despite the warning from the Ward Line, the public hearings showed the crew member's true feelings with multiple accounts all stating that they believed what happened that night was a deliberate attack. When asked about the fire Warms said "It was incendiary. I think someone put something in that Writing Room." Officers told how it moved unnaturally fast, that there was a chemical smell, the color of the flames, but it all fell on the deaf ears of The Ward Line and the Steamboat Inspection Service who scrambled for other causes stretching to to even blame spontaneous combustion, faulty wires, lightning strikes, and quickly dropped stories of Communist conspiracy.

Causes were cloudy but what became very clear was the astronomically unsafe conditions on board Captain Willmott's ship. The image of luxury was of utmost importance on the ship and some of the tasks asked of officers when they were not busy that caused Alagna to write his petition made the guest happy but also put them in terrible danger. One task was the round the clock polishing of the brass on board with a polish, already a chemical concoction, that was laced with kerosene to make the application easier on crew member's elbows. A huge amount of the ship was constructed from wood and another chemical polish was slathered all over the everything wooden on a weekly basis to keep everything shining. New layers of paint were applied every few weeks with the attention being on appearance rather than safety. I large number of lifeboats were unable to launch because of the layers and layers of dried paint cementing them to the ship. All the plywood used on board was not fireproof and was chosen because it was lightweight. The staterooms were lined in thin sheets of wood that were stuck together with eight layers of flammable glue before being bathed in varnish. The deck planking, made of Oregon pine was caulked with a mixture of glue, cotton, and oakum which melted in the extreme heat and stuck to passengers feet at they were trying to escape trapping them to the deck as they burned. The location of the Writing Room as the starting point of the blaze only added to the problems. From inside the storage closet the flamed went into a vent and spread behind a false ceiling where the Morro Castle's Lyle gun was kept along with the twenty-five pounds of gunpowder used to operate it.

Morro Castle lifeboat still fixed to the ship

Chemicals were not the only things that doomed the Morro Castle, fault also lay thick on both construction and crew. True, the ship was fitted with a state of the art fire detection system, but that system only covered the cargo, staterooms, and engine room and the fire doors meant to close automatically once a certain temperature was reached had all of their wires removed requiring them to be manually closed. Although the cargo was equipped with the detection system, it had been turned off. Part of the cargo on this voyage was a shipment of salted hides and on September 5th Captain Willmott ordered the system be turned off to prevent the stench spreading throughout the vessel. The same pathways that allowed the ship to be "sea-cooled" also gave the fire an oxygen-filled and totally unobstructed path to all areas.

The sheer confusion on the night of the fire was increased tenfold due to the fact that the crew members flat out did not know what to do in case of a blaze and even if their instincts led them the Morro Castle was not equipped to to allow those instincts be followed. Captain Willmott believed his ship was the safest place in the world and because of that he flat out refused to conduct any safety drills despite them becoming law after the sinking of the Titanic. When the idea was brought to the captain of doing drills to show the passengers how safe they were it was quickly shot down with Willmott stating "No, I don't want the men to run around and excite passengers. We have an old sea tradition, excitement brings panic." On the rare occasion that a drill could be conducted it was carried out by having crew members go to their posts briefly before continuing with their days. But, if you were busy catering to passengers you did not even take part in that. When Cruise Director Robert Smith proposed the idea of making games out of the safety drills for passengers Willmott immediately shut him down saying it would put ideas in people's heads that something actually could happen, which he refused to believe.

There were forty-two fire hydrants on board the Morro Castle the night it went up in flames, but almost none of them were functional. One month before the catastrophe a passenger slipped on some water that leaked from a hydrant and successfully sued the company for $25,000. Rather than fix the leak Willmott ordered the crew to remove all the hoses, nozzles, wrenches, and outlets for the hoses before having them cap off all the hydrants they could. The crew was unaware how to remove the caps but even if they did it would have been little help on the night of the fire, there was no water pressure. The three pumps that supplied water to the hose system had a capacity of 1,300 gallons per minute. However, the system was designed assuming that there would never be a situation where all the hydrants would be used so the max number that could be turned on and functional with water pressure at any one time was six. With the crew turning on every hydrant trying to find one that worked, the water pressure was cut down to a forth of its full strength.

Surely there was no way these conditions were legal. But, on paper the Morro Castle was perfectly safe due to the fact that inspections mainly consisted of strolling the decks and taking meals with Captan Willmott. Inspection records from August 4th, just over a month before the unthinkable, claim that an inspector from the Steamboat Inspection Service was able to test all of the lifeboats by lowering them all into the water and bringing them back up, and examine the hull, steering gear, gangways, telephones, radio equipment, anchors, and all 100 fire extinguishers and 848 life jackets in less than two hours. The Morro Castle was built to the standards of the U.S. Navy, there was simply no need for inspections.

The Morro Castle still burning while moving on September 8th 1934

As the hearings moved along the evidence of an act of arson continued to build. Crew and passengers continued to comment that the speed of the fire was nothing natural and there were reports from people swearing that they saw flamed traveling down staircases, completely defying a natural burning. The color of the flames were another big indicator. Night watchman Pender stuck to his claims that the flames he saw shooting out from the Writing Room storage locker were blue with indicated a chemical fire with temperatures over 1,500 degrees. In addition, chemical flames change color when water is applied and at lease one crew member reported that when they threw water on the flames they changed from blue-white to yellow. Another major thing to consider was where the fire began. While the Writing Room was open to the public the storage locker was hidden with the doors being made to blend in with the wall paneling, something only known by crew members. If the fire was truly an Act of God or an accident the storage locker was the worst place for fate to place a fire, but if it was deliberately caused by an incendiary device there was no better place on the ship to hide one.

If the fire was in fact arson, who could have set it? While the Ward Line was being ripped apart in the press for negligence and Alagna was being painted as the possible violent arsonist due to his issues before leaving New York, Francis Xavier Fay at the F.B.I. was looking into a tip that prompted him to get a background check of a certain crew member. The resulting report was worse than he ever could have and imagined and put a significant spotlight on the man being called the hero, George White Rogers.

The background check on Rogers laid out a lifetime of disturbances dating back to when he was a young child. There were numerous behavioral issues leading to him being thrown out of school after school until finally being expelled at the age of fifteen. In 1919 Rogers enlisted in the Navy as a radio operator and during his time there he became involved in a small chemical explosion where he bent the story repeatedly to paint himself the hero. Rogers was extremely well versed in chemistry and when the Black Tom explosion happened in 1918 he became obsessed telling people his theories on how the explosion was set and describing in detail a way he figured out to turn a simple fountain pen into a bomb. When the Navy explosion happened he was taken to the Navy Hospital feigning unconsciousness and delirium due to pain. He was discharged but while Rogers's story involved him damaging his eyes while jumping into the explosion to save a fellow sailor the medical records state that he was discharged due to dimness of vision. Nine years went by with Rogers jumping from job to job before he began working at electronic stores in New York City, during which employers reported multiple thefts and fires in their shops.

Despite his frightening history and his suspicious behavior before, during, and after the Morro Castle Rogers may have never been looked at twice had disturbances not continued after the fire that made him famous. After his fame began to fade he opened up an electronics shop which mysteriously burned to the ground. His next job was as a radio operator for the police department in Bayonne, New Jersey. Rogers quickly befriended Lieutenant Vincent Doyle but as the two got closer Doyle began to grow uneasy. Rogers grew increasingly vocal about his time on the doomed ship and he began to describe in detail how exactly he "thought" the fire was set, with a fountain pen incendiary device tucked inside the pocket of a waiter's jacket. When Doyle began to press Rogers on his knowledge about the Morro Castle fire Roger's backtracked saying it was just a guess. That was before Rogers built a bomb from missing police department equipment, planted it in a room, and lured Doyle inside where it exploded severely injuring him. This time Rogers was arrested and sentenced to twelve to twenty years in prison, a sentence that was appealed in 1942 when Rogers signed up for parole in exchange for enlisting in the armed services.

Vincent Doyle

By 1944 Rogers was back in Bayonne, New Jersey where he became friends with a retired painter named William Hummel who lived with his daughter just down the street from Rogers. Over the course of their friendship Rogers tried to involve Hummel in several business ventures that never took off with Hummel lending Rogers a total of $7,500. On June 18th 1953 Hummel told Rogers he would need the money back because he and his daughter were moving to Florida. Within the next forty-eight hours Hummel and his daughter were bludgeoned to death in their home. The only reason their bodies were found on July 1st was because Rogers himself told the owner of a radio store that the two were missing before the police even knew about it. Rogers was arrested and sentenced to life in prison but his time in jail was short, he died of a heart attack in January 1958 with his name never formally being attached to the deadly fire that killed 134 people.

Inquiries and accusations flew freely during the hearings after the blaze with Warms, Chief Engineer Eban Abbott, and Ward Line vice-president Henry Cabaud eventually being indicted on various charges. However, an appeals court later overturned Warms' and Abbott's convictions after deciding that the decisions of deceased Captain Willmott greatly contributed to the tragedy that night. In the end no official cause was ever cited for the fire.

The wreck of the Morro Castle remained in Asbury Park attracting millions of tourists who paid to wade out to touch it and purchased pressed pennies and postcards with the haunting charred remains emblazoned on them like a tranquil beach scene. It was not until the stench of the ship began to deter people that the wreck was finally declared a total loss and removal was arranged. On March 14th 1935 she was hauled away from Asbury Park and taken to Gravesend Bay in New York before making her final voyage to Baltimore, Maryland on March 29th where she was finally scrapped.

The wreck of the Morro Castle in Asbury Park November 1934

Morro Castle postcard

The story of the Morro Castle is the stuff of mystery novels. A luxury cruise ship returning from paradise when the captain died during one of two vicious storms, a mystery fire, a run away wreck that became a tourist destination, and a villain that was given many names but who took their identity to the grave. Despite all the unbelievable pieces of the story, it is hard to ignore that the tragedy of the Morro Castle was something that was a direct result of human hands, from the layers of chemicals that turned it into a powder keg to the person who set the blaze that transformed one last night of dreaming into one of the worst maritime disasters of the 20th century.

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Sources:

The Morro Castle: Tragedy at Sea by Hal Burton (1973)

Inferno at Sea: Stories of Death and Survival Aboard the Morro Castle by Gretchen F. Coyle and Deborah C. Whitcraft (2012)

Fire at Sea: The Mysterious Tragedy of the Morro Castle by Thomas Gallagher (2003)

When the Dancing Stopped: The Real Story of the Morro Castle Disaster and its Deadly Wake by Brian Hicks (2006)

Shipwreck: The Strange Fate of the Morro Castle by Thomas Gordon and Max Morgan Witts

Please check out the New Jersey Maritime Museum online at:

https://njmaritimemuseum.org/

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