What constitutes a classic? - Cruise Views - Brief Article

Cruise Travel, Sept-Oct, 2002 by M.T. Schwartzman

As the letters to Cruise Travel frequently bemoan, classic ocean liners are becoming few and far between. Old standbys like the Queen Elizabeth 2 of 1969 and the Norway (nee France) of 1962 are just about the only true classics left sailing, as their predecessors, like the Rotterdam of 1959 and the Independence of 1951 have been sold off or retired.

All is not lost, however. In their place has risen a new generation of "classics," ships that, while not the glorious liners of a golden age, nevertheless represent an era when vessels had individual personalities. Most of these ships date back to the 1980s, which puts them two generations apart from the end of the trans-Atlantic era but ahead of the dark days of the 1970s. After 15 to 20 years of service, they are considered "old," a clear indication of how much the cruise industry has changed.

What constitutes a classic often depends on one's perspective. To many, the notion of "classic" is limited to the most restrictive definition: An outstanding example of a type or time. But sometimes, we can have our own personal classics, based on a unique and memorable experience. For me, Holland America Line's Noordam of 1984 is a personal classic. This was my first ship--a cruise to Alaska--and I will always remember her fondly. I recall the sense of luxury I felt while sailing aboard. I was living like a king.

Of course, in retrospect, there was absolutely nothing extraordinary about the ship, certainly not in the context of what I would later encounter. True, she does have beautiful lines--low slung and streamlined. She also has subtle Art Deco touches in the public rooms and in the cabins. But the Noordam is not without her flaws, chief among them the cramped conditions. At 33,930 gross register tons, she carries 1,214 passengers, for a tight passenger space ratio of 28; the average ship today has a space ratio of 40 or better. It doesn't matter--to me, the Noordam is a classic.

Some ships are classics because they foreshadowed emerging cruise trends. The Crown Odyssey of 1988 gave a hint of several features that would become typical of later ships. Her two-level atrium lobby, puny by today's standards, nevertheless was a welcome departure from the reception areas common aboard ships of the time. Out on-deck, the designers placed a modern sculpture among the pool and deck chairs. What ship today would be complete without such artistic embellishment?

The Crown Odyssey was built before private verandas became popular, and instead the designers incorporated bay windows into many of the suites. These giant panes of glass allowed nearly a 180-degree view of the sea. Best of all, they were equipped with motorized blinds that, at the flick of a switch, buzzed into action--raising the shade up or down like a curtain rising or falling on a stage performance. It was quite entertaining.

The 45,000-grt Royal Princess of 1984 foresaw the trend toward predominantly outside cabins. When built, she was the largest ship of her kind with 100 percent outside accommodations. A decade later, the 50,000-grt Crystal Symphony of 1995 would pick up on this all-outside theme aboard larger cruise liners. By 2000, outside cabins represented 80 to 90 percent of the staterooms on all new ships. We who like sea views have the Royal Princess to thank.

Soon, the aging Sovereign of the Seas of 1988 may reach classic status. After all, this was the vessel that gave us the term "megaship." Yet she predated the boxy look of later vessels, striking a handsome profile with tapered, rounded decks. She was also the first ship to give us a true, hotel-like atrium rising five decks, replete with glass elevators, sweeping stairways, and boutiques for shopping. In retrospect, this innovative atrium became the one feature that, more than any other, defined megaship design of the 1990s. This alone, to my mind, qualifies the Sovereign of the Seas as a candidate for classic status.

Some latter-day classics must change in order to survive, losing some of their original character along the way. Holland America's recently reborn Prinsendam was originally the Royal Viking Sun of 1988. Then she became the Cunard Royal Viking Sun. When the Royal Viking brand was put to rest, the ship became the Seabourn Sun. In order to bring the vessel in line with her new fleetmates, more than the name was changed. Several new rooms were created to instill a Holland America-style ambiance, including an Explorer's Lounge, Crow's Nest, and Java Cafe. Other upgrades included the installation of an art gallery and an internet center.

However, some things will remain the same. The ship will continue the mission she was built to fulfill: Globetrotting itineraries that, like the ship herself, range far beyond the ordinary and conventional. In her inaugural season, the Prinsendam's extended voyages are measured in weeks rather than days.

And despite the cosmetic and structural changes Holland America has made, the ship retains a history and character that cannot be erased. There are, I am sure, spirits in the dining room that still raise a glass of aquavit and cheer, "Skald, Skald, Skald." I look forward to sailing on this ship--and listening for their revelry.