First voyage and early life
On November 10, 1967, with ceremonies similar to those afforded ships on their first voyage, the former Exochorda and the newly refurbished floating dormitory was moved by McAllister Brothers' tugboats from the shipyard to her new berth at the college-owned 8th Street Pier. Two of the shipyard's workmen suffered a minor mishap when the gangplank slipped a few feet while being positioned on the pier.
The ship was rechristened Stevens by Mrs. Jess H. Davis, wife of the institute's president, Dr. Jess H. Davis. The ship was originally named Castle Queen via a contest run by the student body in 1967. The name submitted by Joe Giacone, class of '69, was changed to SS Stevens, which was preferred by Mrs. Davis[16] Dr. Davis and William L. Bingham, dean of student affairs, formally took possession of the ship as the institute's flag was hoisted from the bridge.[17]
Reflecting the technological nature of her namesake, Stevens Institute of Technology, the ship's single cigar-shaped funnel had been painted with an elongated red letter "S", the integral symbol — well known by her student residents through their study and application of the calculus. The ship's name, "Stevens", had also been painted in black letters on her bow.
Connection of water, sewer and electric services with the Hoboken land utilities was facilitated by flexible piping (hoses) and cabling of sufficient length to accommodate the motion of the ship resulting from changing tides or severe weather.
Although she was a complete ship, containing an engine room, wheelhouse, bridge and decks, she was licensed by the State of New Jersey as a residence hall. Designed to the highest Coast Guard standards (1948), fire safety doors and smoke ventilation systems were functional and met local regulations.[9]
The first student residents of Stevens, a total of 150, moved aboard in January 1968.
On May 22, 1968, an open house was held aboard Stevens in honor of National Maritime Day, commemorating the beginning of trans-Atlantic steam navigation.[18]
When the first ocean-going training vessel for the Texas State Maritime Program, USTS Texas Clipper[19] was in need of spare parts, Stevens, with the blessing of the U.S. Maritime Administration, answered her call. As a benefit of their common heritage — Stevens, the former Exochorda, and Texas Clipper, the former Excambion, sisters ships in the post-war "4 Aces"[20] — many parts were interchangeable between the two vessels. The parts were made available to Texas Clipper during her visit to New York in June 1968, the first such visit since her conversion from Excambion.[21]
Accommodations
In 1968, the per-student cost of a room for one semester ranged from $200 to $265, depending on available amenities such as portholes and private showers. By 1975, the cost of a room with two students had risen to approximately $650 per student, per semester.
Rooms were equipped with desks and lamps, many of which were fixed in place, a common feature among seafaring vessels. Heating and air-conditioning were controlled by a thermostat in each room, a significant feature also enjoyed by ocean-going passengers aboard Exochorda, one of the first fully air-conditioned ships.
Most rooms were fitted with "ingeniously arranged oversize downy berths"[22] — 79" by 34" roll-up beds operated by "an ingenious new device which by the simple turn of a wheel recesses the berths flush into the wall".[23] Prominent in Exochorda 's advertising literature, the roll-up berths facilitated the conversion of rooms from sleeping quarters at night to spacious sitting rooms by day. The two large suites on the Promenade deck, featured twin beds.
The teak and dark blue leather chairs, depicted in many print ads and brochures for the "4 Aces", remained in the rooms.
While a typical room harbored the usual complement of personal items such as a television, stereo and refrigerator, students aboard the ship were afforded more latitude regarding individual décor as compared to their land-based counterparts. Among the decorative touches found in rooms were oil paintings, hanging plants and a Persian print bedspread billowing from a sitting room ceiling.
Rules and regulations
Rules and regulations were loose except for prohibitions against excessive noise or vandalism, including breaking into refrigerators. For safety reasons, those on board were warned: "Students will not be allowed to climb, hang or swing from any of the riggings, lifeboats or railings."[5] Resident dormitory representatives could often remedy such infractions with measures that included requiring the offending student to leave the ship. Other rules stated that visitors were not permitted to be on the ship between 4 and 7 am. Although women students were first admitted to the institute in 1971,[25] they were prohibited from living on the ship until 1974. Commenting on the effect of women living aboard the ship, student resident Tom Poncho said, "Not much." By 1975, nine women shared the ship with 91 men.
Popular with students
Despite the quiet and remote location of Stevens relative to the center of campus, rooms on the ship remained very much in demand. Many of Stevens residents were delighted[9] with their living arrangements and preferred the ship over conventional dormitory housing. Institute officials postulated that Stevens ' popularity may have been due, in part, to the ship's appeal to "loners",[10] a supposition consistent with students' statements. "It's quiet down here, more secluded and peaceful", said ship resident Kenneth Levy.[6] Expressing a similar sentiment, resident Frank Condi said, "It's away from everything."[26] Other students, however, recognized the social advantages offered by their unique dwelling. Ship resident Martin Mercorelli remarked that the ship was "definitely a social asset. It seems to go over better with the girls."[10] Other students indicated their preference for the ship by their unflattering characterization of other dormitory rooms as "cells".[6]
Escalating costs
During the initial five years of operation, maintenance and repair costs for Stevens were comparable to those of a land-based dormitory. In early 1973, the institute had anticipated operating Stevens for another five years.
Within the next two years, however, declining enrollments, rising costs of heating the vessel and needed repairs prompted the institute to reassess the economics of maintaining Stevens. In 1975, heating for the steel-hulled ship, which was delivered from land via steam pipe, cost the institute $40,000 per year. As explained by institute president Kenneth C. Rogers, "Heating that ship is like trying to heat the whole Hudson River."[6] Adding to the financial burden, the need for extensive water system repair work became evident when the interior of a six-inch (152 mm) section of the ship's water pipe was found to be nearly completely encrusted by rust. After allowing for necessary painting and electrical wiring upgrades, the cost estimate for repairs totaled $100,000, forcing the institute's decision in April 1975 to sell the ship.
Farewell
In May 1975, shortly before Stevens was to be closed and sold, she "hosted" a large and memorable farewell party held in her honor. A "For Sale" sign on her bow — for students, a melancholic reminder of her impending fate — had been posted by a prankster. On the day following graduation, May 23, 1975, the last student to leave the country's only floating dormitory, William Walendzinski,[27] a graduating senior and Stevens resident for the prior 3 years, descended her main gangplank for the final time.
On August 26, 1975, at 3:00 PM, the last of her mooring cables was burned away.[2] Without fanfare, tugboat Helen McAllister and two other Tony McAllister's '21 tugboats, part of the same fleet that brought Stevens to her berth in Hoboken in 1967, towed her to a Chester, Pennsylvania shipyard.[28]
Students of the Class of 1975 presented funds to the institute for the preparation of a site on Wittpenn Walk, overlooking the ship's berthing area, where one of Stevens' six-ton anchors was placed in tribute to "the Ship", their "floating dormitory".[29]