SS United States' potential death showcases America's heritage hypocrisy

North America has firmly been in love with its own image for over a century, and there’s good reason for that. Official narrative promotes the United States as a beacon of free living, where opportunities are bountiful, success is defined purely by your ambition, and a high quality of life is more assured than the next serving of apple pie. Who wouldn’t want to relish the greatest country in the world?

‘Murica! *Cue electric guitar howling The Star Spangled Banner, radiated by a Bald Eagle donning a Cadillac blazer*

Except, if you dive behind the headlines, America’s guitar is spectacularly out of tune. The majority of Americans live in a Fox News-sponsored echo chamber, where opinion is confused for fact, and disagreement is considered a personal attack. When a problem arises, the old-school collaborative approach has been scrapped in favour of emphasising the situation; showcasing how the other side is wrong – and possibly in cahoots with Satan himself – rather than finding a solution.

‘Murica? *Confused electric guitar noises*

The ability to understand the implications of chosen actions has seemingly been lost, posturing against one another in a vain bid to prevent having to validate or justify or – God forbid – learn from mistakes.

And while Donald Trump runs amok and divides the country akin to Paula Deen furcating butter, the Kardashians install a toxic cultural blueprint destined to mutilate humanity, and Wall Street secretly lights a candle for Bernie Madoff as the economy trudges on as though it’s just had a stroke, there’s one other battle going on that epitomises the superficial and shallow attitude towards contemporary Americana: the SS United States.

What’s going on with SS United States?

The legal tussle between Penn Warehousing and the SS United States revolves around a complex web of financial obligations and property rights. Penn Warehousing, the owner of the pier where the SS United States has been docked for years, has been embroiled in disputes with the SS United States Conservancy over unpaid dockage fees.

The Conservancy, tasked with preserving and finding a new purpose for the historic ocean liner, has struggled to meet these harsh financial demands, leading to mounting tensions as Penn Warehouse’s lawyers rub their hands together with glee. Well, that tacky holiday home for their goomar in Palm Beach won’t pay for itself.

There’s a second layer to this fight, however. So, before you slap your thigh and laugh at the ship’s Conservation group, it turns out that – in a bid to simply get rid of the ship from the pier – Penn Warehousing may have acted unlawfully; raising the daily docking fee by one hundred per cent without consultation or adhering to the original party contract.

They’ve also made apparent accusations about SS United States damaging the area surrounding it, while also claiming the conservancy group is a "nightmare", in a feverish bid to act the victim and turn the public against SS United States. Hey, it worked for the Republican Party.

Penn Warehousing has pushed for an instant resolution, which could involve the ship's sale or even destruction if payments aren't settled. The Conservancy, on the other hand, is caught in a difficult position, balancing its mission to save the ship with unwarranted financial realities.

Fundraising efforts have proven challenging, and potential redevelopment projects have yet to fully materialize into substantial financial backing.

This ongoing conflict underscores the broader challenges of historic preservation, particularly for such a massive and complex artefact as the SS United States. The ship's future remains uncertain, teetering between potential revitalization and the grim prospect of being dismantled, all while legal battles over money and mooring continue to unfold.

As with anything in America, it’s all about money. Everything in the U.S.A is run as a business; healthcare, education and – as it turns out – heritage are there to be milked, too. 'Murica!

Why I'm mad

America's love affair with its heritage is a spectacle as grand as any Hollywood blockbuster, full of pomp and circumstance, yet riddled with plot holes the size of the Grand Canyon.

The nation revels in the glory of its historical icons, parading the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, Mount Rushmore, and Boston's Old State House like the crown jewels in a beauty pageant. We bask in the glow of these monuments, patting each patriot on the back for America’s rich history while conveniently ignoring the parts that don’t fit a picture-perfect narrative.

Enter the SS United States, the Cinderella of American heritage – all dressed up with nowhere to go, as the clock ticks towards doomsday. Except, the ship won’t turn into a pumpkin come the chronograph’s final judder – she’ll be torn apart or sunk as an artificial reef.

The SS United States, once the epitome of American engineering prowess, currently languishes in obscurity, rusting away in a Philadelphia dock with an unwanted mantra. She should be celebrated and cherished, yet the cultural tumbleweeds are gathering.

This ocean liner, which still holds the Blue Riband (the record for the fastest eastbound/westbound transatlantic voyage), represents a time when American innovation ruled the waves. It’s the sort of thing that America usually fawns over – a reminder that things weren’t always as strangled and sterile as they are now.

Yet, in the grand theatre of American heritage, she’s the understudy who never gets her time on stage. The greatest irony? The U.S.A cossets and massages the British ex-Cunard RMS Queen Mary at her home in Long Beach, California; effectively shooting America’s bald eagle and instead cooing over an English bulldog. That's patriotism for ya.

In essence, America has collectively turned a blind eye to their grand dame of the seas. It’s the kind of patriotic hypocrisy that would make a politician blush. The same people who tear up at the sight of the USS Texas or cheer when the Empire State Building lights up for the Fourth of July seem to have no problem watching the SS United States deteriorate into a giant colander. It’s "Heritage Hypocrisy: The National Edition."

The lack of collective effort to save the SS United States demonstrates the shallow respect that America has for important objects outside the stereotypes. Preservationists have been scrambling for decades to raise funds and awareness, but the general public’s response has been less than enthusiastic.

While millions are poured into maintaining and promoting other historic sites, the SS United States is left to beg for scraps, a relic of a bygone era that no one seems to care about. Mainly because it didn’t sink in the North Atlantic with a great loss of life in 1912, and because James Cameron didn’t make a film about the ship featuring historical inaccuracies of the highest order.

This neglect is not just an oversight; it’s a glaring contradiction in America’s national identity. They boast about achievements and take pride in their history, yet let one of humanity’s greatest maritime accomplishments rot away. It’s like bragging about your vintage car collection while your prized Mustang balances precariously on cinder blocks; which is how most of them are actually sold in Florida.

The SS United States deserves better than to be a maritime ghost ship, floating aimlessly on the sea of indifference. A nation that proudly waves the flag of heritage while ignoring one of its most significant historical vessels?

It’s a situation that would be hilarious if it weren’t so tragic. The SS United States is more than just a ship; it’s a symbol of the power America once had, and what they could be if only they practised what they preached.

Until then, America’s love for its heritage will remain as shallow as a kiddie pool, a grand show of selective memory that celebrates only the profitable and shiny parts while letting the rest sink into oblivion.

Reality Bites: The Flip Side Of The Coin

It’s easy to get carried away and proclaim that America is emotionally bankrupt when it boils down to the SS United States, but you have to let reality into the picture. And the reality is economically grim.

One reason America hasn't done anything significant with the SS United States is the monumental cost involved. Restoring and maintaining such a massive vessel requires substantial financial investment, which is hard to justify when public interest is tepid at best.

Unlike instantly recognizable and heavily visited icons – including the prized RMS Queen Mary - the SS United States lacks the same tourist draw. Its preservation doesn't yet promise the same commercial returns, making it a tough sell to both private investors and government bodies.

Additionally, the ship's current state is a testament to the nation's prioritization of modernity over history. In a culture that often equates progress with the new and shiny, relics like the SS United States are viewed as unworthy antiques, rather than valuable pieces of heritage.

The ship doesn't fit the TikTok-ready image that modern America tends to celebrate, which makes it easier for people to ignore its plight. There's also an astounding lack of public awareness. While some maritime enthusiasts and preservationists have championed its cause, the general population remains largely oblivious to its significance.

Without widespread public interest or mainstream advocacy, political and financial will is hard to muster. Guess they better get Kendal Jenner on the scene, where she can use Pepsi to diffuse the situation.

A ghostly shell or huge opportunity?

Now standing as a ghostly relic, the ship remains a hollowed-out shell of her former glory. After a fateful visit to Ukraine in the 1990s, where all asbestos and remaining interior fittings were meticulously stripped away (with previous interior components auctioned off in the 1980s), she has been reduced to a stark, empty hull.

Her grand ballrooms, elegant cabins, and opulent dining halls are long gone, leaving behind only the skeletal framework of what was once the fastest and most imposing ocean liner in the world. That makes it a hard sell as a tourist destination, especially as the ship’s final voyage took place in 1969 – creating a gap of interest between generations.

“Here – step into this completely empty ship. Use your imagination to picture how cool she once was. That’ll be $35 per person, please.”

Yet, in this gutted state, the SS United States offers an unparalleled opportunity—a blank canvas waiting for a visionary project. Stripped of her old grandeur, she now presents a versatile and unique space ripe for transformation. Imagine the potential: a floating museum, a luxury hotel, or a creative hub on the water.

With her robust structural integrity intact, this venerable vessel could be repurposed in ways limited only by imagination and ambition. Which is the American dream, right?

Here's the clincher – it’s all so close to happening. If the conservation group are to be believed, salvation could be just around the corner as New York’s answer to the RMS Queen Mary. There are just a few hurdles, and several million Dollars, to clear first. Here’s hoping they can do it.

The time is near

The SS United States, in her current condition, stands as both a poignant reminder of what once was, and a tantalizing glimpse of what could be. With the right investment and vision, she could once again capture the world's admiration, this time as a beacon of innovative repurposing.

Ultimately, the neglect of the SS United States reflects a broader cultural trend: a superficial engagement with history that celebrates a curated set of symbols, while allowing other significant pieces to become footnotes in the history books. But not before they have been left long enough to deteriorate and taunt those who care, allowing certain businesses to profit.

It’s superficial compassion that turns the CEO’s eyes into Dollar signs, and in this care, it feels as though Penn Warehousing are using that oh-so familiar echo chamber to promote opinion as fact, while being underhanded with finances and contracts, to get what they want.

The ship was once a proud testament to American innovation, but the whole saga now serves as a poignant reminder of what can be lost when historical preservation isn't prioritised and playing victim seems to ensure a higher quality of life (here’s looking at you, Penn Warehousing).

Rant over.

‘Murica! *Sad guitar noises*