The S.S. France, the world's longest, largest, fastest ocean liner, is in the Pacific this week, a month into a 91-day round-the-world cruise that includes calls at 27 ports. Aboard are some 1,150 passengers, mostly American or French. Occupying cabins or suites that cost from a minimum of $5,640 to $99,340, they have paid the French Line a total of over $11 million for the cruise, thus setting a new maritime record of sorts. TIME Associate Editor Edwin Bolwell was on board the France as it sailed between New York and Trinidad. Here is his report:
ON most cruises, Neptune is king. On this voyage, Methuselah rules. The average age of the passengers is mid-60s, and when the handful of children and smattering of under-40s is out of sight—which is often—it seems even higher. Also, word leaked out that 31 would-be passengers, mostly elderly, died between the time they booked their cabins and the ship left its home port of Le Havre. (The vacancies were quickly filled.) As a result, the prevailing atmosphere is less glamorous than geratic.
Much of the entertainment contributes to the mood. An early featured movie was the original version of Stagecoach, starring a youthful John Wayne. The ship's closed circuit TV system shows reruns of Ensign O'Toole and Burke's Law. In the main lounges at night, small bands play a lot of tangos and waltzes. There is a discotheque with hotter music, but its floor is often deserted.
Many of the older passengers, however, seemed to enjoy the occasional flashes of vivacity on board. Pretty Patty Sines of West Virginia, in her mid-20s and traveling alone, quickly became the belle of the bateau, bouncing around barefooted and in hot pants by day and in clinging dresses at night. She so contrasted with the other passengers that one American matron inquired: "Tell me, dear, did the French Line pay your way on board to liven things up?"
Some of the more mature passengers also managed to swing, though less overtly. A European blonde in her mid-50s cuddled quietly with five different men on the first five days at sea. A spinster from North America discreetly resumed a four-year-old liaison with a cabin boy. "He might not be an officer," explained one of her friends, "but he is an intelligent cabin boy. And very kind." A few other matrons found comfort with the gaggle of gigolos aboard. Gay liberation was also evident. Punned one ship's officer: "We are carrying both lifeboats and fairies."
Despite the luxury-cruise prices, the S.S. France is more streamlined than elegant. In service since 1962, it was designed primarily to carry 500 first-class and 1,500 tourist passengers on Atlantic crossings; closing some of the smaller cabins for the current cruise did not automatically transform it into a one-class luxury liner. Most of the furniture aboard is covered with functional vinyl, and there is no outdoor swimming pool.
The passengers include retired lawyers, doctors, realtors, a former speechwriter for Franklin D. Roosevelt, a banana exporter from Brazil, a 42-year-old mother of seven from Quebec, and the couple who operate stall 22 at the Flea Market in Nice. But to the obvious disappointment of many passengers, there is hardly a recognizable celebrity to goggle at.