
She was built by Cammel Laird in 1918. Launched in 1917 during World War One, she was the object of intense negotiations between the UK government, which wanted her for a troopship, and her Norwegian owners who got her and sent her right across to New York. As we know, the decoration of liners is described as Louis XIV, XV or XVI, Victorian, Art Deco, Edwardian, etc. The Stavangerfjord is possibly the only liner decorated in Haakon VII style, described as gingerbread.

Her first major exposure in the press was in December 1921 when she arrived
in New York, five days late. Other liners were also delayed by that great storm,
but Stavangerfjord had a particularly hard time of it. She was so
beset by head winds that she had to put into St John's, Nova Scotia to take on
coal to complete her trip. Her master, K. S. Irgens, told of winds in excess of
125 miles per hour, Force 11 on the Beaufort Scale, and he said that if it had
gone that high, the storm would have measured an additional 11. Alarmingly, she
heeled over at an angle of 35 degrees, putting her rails under water. The
crystallized brine in her rigging and funnels froze and gave her a
Christmas-like appearance as she sailed up the harbor. At the time, she had 235
passengers on board.

Largely unreported for anything significant during the 20's, she next
reappeared in March 1929, when she rammed and sank the National Fish Company's
trawler Good Hope. The Good Hope stayed afloat for 15 minutes after the
collision, allowing time for all 26 of her crew to be rescued. The collision
occurred off Meagher's Beach near Halifax in dense fog.


< Stavangerfjord at her North River pier November, 1962. >
During her career, the Stavangerfjord twice suffered the indignity of having
important parts fall off. In March, 1931, while 1,300 miles east of New York
with 320 passengers, one of her two screws fell off. She returned to New York
for repairs, and her passengers were transferred to the Bergensfjord. Unlike
today when passengers would be mobbed by the press and their stories page one
events for days, those passengers, stolid Scandinavians, went about their
business in the normal course of events.

She spent World War 2 trapped in Oslo, but by September 1945, she was back
in limited government service. Her first post-war master was Ole Bull, who
had commanded the Oslofjord when she was lost in 1940.
By December 1947, her 30 odd years were beginning to show. Sailing out of
New York, she developed engine problems and anchored in the harbor. One of
her passengers was Crown Princess Martha of Norway.

December 1953 saw a more serious problem for the now 35 year old liner. In
a gale off Newfoundland, her rudder fell off. She proceeded using her twin
screws to maneuver. Confused reports also indicated that she might be off
England instead of Newfoundland. She was carrying 644 passengers. NAL had
their freighter Lyngenfjord sail to assist. In England, the tugboat Turmoil,
which had sailed to the assistance of the Flying Enterprise two years earlier
was dispatched to take her in tow. At their rendezvous, theStavangerfjord's
master Olaf Bjorenstad requested that the Turmoil escort her, rather than tow
her, an important matter in salvage law. The Stavangerfjord, at that time, was
making 13 knots instead of her usual 17.5 knots, but still much faster than a
tow. Arriving in Oslo two days late, Bjorenstad described the crossing as his worst
experience in 39 years at sea. During the ten days without a rudder, Bjornstad
issued more than 15,000 orders to Chief Engineer Odin Danielsen. Both men were
decorated by King Haakon on behalf of a grateful nation.

In April 1958 she formally became the oldest liner on the North Atlantic.
Surprisingly, one member of her original crew was still on board. He was
pastry chef Cato Danielsen, a 70-year-old bachelor. To celebrate the occasion,
Danielsen crafted a pair of celebratory confections, a sugary
Stavangerfjord, and a sugar Faerdar Lightship. In that time, he had crafted
cookies, cake, and other goodies for the 348,000 passengers she had carried,
plus the additional 22,000 who had been on North Cape and Baltic cruises. Her
master, Ivar Gronbuckt said she was good for another 40 years, although he
lamented that she would not, in all probability, really be in service that long.
Unlike the Stavangerfjord, which still had years of sailing ahead, Chef Danielsen was going to retire at the end of 1958.

As it must to all ships, her end was announced. She was to retire in
December 1963 and head off to the scrapyard. Acknowledging her seniority, both
Queens would dip their flags in salute to her. Her master, Odd Aspelund, had
first sailed on her in 1928 as a pantryman. In the ensuing 35 years, he had
served in every department except the engine room. Solidly built, her wooden
bridge was not enclosed until 1956. reminiscent of an earlier era, her master's
cabin was paneled in sold mahogany; no veneer there.

Brooks Atkinson of The New York Times wrote on March 5, 1963, “She was built to
go to sea, not to dazzle the passengers”, Captain Aspelund remarks scornfully
when he thinks of the floating hotels that cross the Atlantic today (1963).
“Although her hull and steam engines are sound, she is no longer competitive.
Passengers want to be dazzled today. After 45 honorable years, the most
venerable Atlantic passenger ship will be superseded by a smarter vessel”.

Leaving Oslo was an event for the Stavangerfjord. With just one line left
holding her to her pier, the national anthems of Norway and the United States
would sound from the amplifiers. In that time when courtesy and respect meant
something, men would uncover and stand at attention, regardless of weather.
Women would be seen in tears. Following the anthems, jolly airs would blare
forth and the journey would start. Three salutes would emanate from the
Stavangerfjord as she departed the Oslofjord. The first was to Oslo as she left;
the second was to the Oscarsborg Festung, which sank the first German warship
into the Oslofjord in 1940, and the last was to Mrs. Captain Aspelund.
At 11:53 AM, December 3, 1963 the Stavangerfjord pulled away from Pier 45 on
West 10th Street in New York for the last time. About 1,500 well-wishers
bade her farewell as she pulled out escorted out of the harbor by tugboats,
harbor craft, pleasure craft, and Coast Guard vessels as well as aircraft and the helicopters that were barely a dream when she first came to New York in
1918. On board were the lucky 528 passengers who were able to get space.
Somberly dressed out of respect for the national mourning for President John F.
Kennedy, she still had Christmas trees atop her two masts, and a 125-foot red,
white, and blue pennant. The originally planned stem to stern signal flags were
dispensed with, and the U.S. and Norwegian flags were at half staff. Coming out
of retirement to be on her final voyage was pastry chef Cato Danielsen.
Her worth on the European scrap market was $320,000; Asian scrappers offered
$420,000.
