Philadelphia Weekly

Like most former Marines, Robert Hudson Westover loves shouting, "Oorah!" Lately, though, he's been more inclined to shout, "I told you so!" 

For the past six years, Westover has told everyone within earshot that the suits at Norwegian Cruise Lines (NCL) - who own the S.S. United States, a storied but deteriorating ocean liner docked at Pier 82 on the Delaware - don't care about the ship, their public musings about refurbishing and resailing it notwithstanding. 

"I never trusted them," says Westover, founder of the Washington, D.C.-based S.S. United States Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to preserving the five-blocks-long colossus, which at the time of its 1952 christening was the envy of the seafaring world. 

Westover's warnings, which largely fell on deaf ears, suddenly appear prophetic. Last month, NCL put the hulking icon, a landmark at Columbus Boulevard and Snyder Avenue since 1996, up for sale. Moreover, NCL made no assurances that it won't sell the vessel Westover calls "the maritime soul of our nation" to a scrapper.

"It's do or die time," says Westover, adding that, to many, losing this ship would be akin to destroying the Statue of Liberty. 

Westover, a D.C. resident, is calling lobbyist friends on Capitol Hill and huddling with other S.S. United States aficionados, hoping to thwart the unthinkable. He's also considering organizing protests on Columbus Boulevard.

"I'll fight to the end," he says. "As a third-generation Marine, that's what I'm trained to do. But I'll be honest with you, if we win, I'll chalk it up to divine intervention."

NCL has waxed ambiguous about its decision to sell, declining to tell PW its asking price but emailing a nebulous, two-paragraph statement that reads in part: "While all options for the ship are being evaluated, the S.S. United States Conservancy has been offered the opportunity to explore possibilities for the ship with the option of purchasing the vessel."

The S.S. United States, which during its heyday sped the rich and famous to and from Europe in record time, appeared on these pages two months ago. In that article, Westover and Dan McSweeney of the S.S. United States Conservancy - which Westover derides as NCL's "pet" nonprofit since the conservancy has repeatedly accepted funding from NCL - lamented the ship's long-idle, rust-bucket status. They agreed that converting the so-called "Big U" into a museum seemed a great idea.

But McSweeney, himself a former active duty Marine, says the conservancy lacks the capital needed to buy the ship. Meanwhile, he refuses to disclose NCL's asking price, although Westover is guessing $20 million or perhaps slightly less.

Westover regards NCL's overture to the conservancy as laughable, incidentally.

"What a joke," he says. "NCL gave them the right of first refusal. That's great. And the conservancy has what, maybe $5,000 in their bank account?  It's just another game. They're playing them like a fine-tuned fiddle."

In Westover's eyes, that's nothing new. In fact, he says NCL has excelled at "playing" the conservancy, not to mention assorted media, since purchasing the S.S. United States from New Jersey real estate baron Ed Cantor six years ago.

Reflecting on the events that created a schism between the ship's supporters, he recalls phoning ex-CEO Colin Veitch shortly after NCL bought the ship. He wanted to vent about the corporation's decision to gut the ship's engine rooms.

"I guess Veitch viewed my complaining as unacceptable," Westover says. "At that moment, I became persona non grata to NCL." 

Westover adds that he's sure NCL split the ship's devotees by design. 

"They went on and on to reporters and filmmakers about restoring her and resailing her, made it sound as if it were about to happen," he says. "Believe me, they've gotten tremendous PR out of owning her. Meanwhile, they divided the effort to rescue her, which was in full momentum when they bought her."

Working together, the ship's supporters might've succeeded in obtaining landmark status and Congressional protection, Westover adds. Instead, he says NCL wined and dined the conservancy while using media like a deck mop.

"Six years were wasted," he says.