SS Finland Passenger Lists 1906

Finland (1902) Red Star Line.

Built by Wm. Cramp & Sons, Shipbuilding & Engineering Co., Philadelphia, Pa.

Tonnage: 12,188. Dimensions: 560' X 60' (580' o.l.). Twin-screw, 16 knots. Triple expansion engines. Four masts and two funnels.

Service: Antwerp- New York. Also served in American Line service.

Transferred to Panama-Pacific Line late in 1923.

Scrapped in 1927.

Sister ships: Kroonland, Vaderland and Zeeland.

All Digitized Passenger Lists For the SS Finland Available at the GG Archives. Listing Includes Date Voyage Began, Steamship Line, Vessel, Passenger Class and Route.

Passenger Lists contained in the GG Archives collection represent the souvenir list provided to the passengers of each cabin class (and other classes). Many of these souvenir passenger lists have disappeared over the years. Our collection contains a sampling of what was originally produced and printed by the steamship lines.

On Board of the Good Ship "'Finland" of the Red Star Line, en Route to Antwerp

For the weary and heavy laden victim of the strenuous life, the sufferer from nerves, the nervous bankrupt, the maturely or prematurely aged, the convalescent from any disease, nothing equals a sea voyage and the longer the trip and slower the boat, the better. I wish every doctor in America could take this noble boat, the ''Finland'', and make a round trip on ber as I am doing now, at least once every two years.

She is ideally equipped, practically new, having made only eight trips, and is the cleanest proposition I ever saw. In no remote corner is there a suggestion of a ship odor.

She is indeed, with her porcelain finished iron tiled floors everywhere and perfect up-to-date plumbing, equal to the finest hotels in America, the crystalized expression of asepsis. Indeed, on this ship, if anywhere, cleanliness is next to Godliness.

Not only is every detail of the "Finland" clean, but her atmosphere is charged with superb services, kindness, gentleness, and good cheer. Every officer, from master to cabin boy, is indeed a master of his calling. While evidently an artist in his work, he is polite as a dancing master, personifying thoughtfulness and helpfulness.

Every passenger on the ship will feel at the close of the voyage under personal obligation to every one of the officers and crew. Words cannot express our appreciation to Captain F. Albrecht, Purser Peter Geyer, and Mr. F. A. Tomkins, Chief Steward.

Prompted by experience in traveling, I, some time ago, provided myself with three extra pairs of eyeglasses and put them in a safe place with the understanding, of course, that they were to be included in the packing of my valise. Of course, they were all left out.

The fact that I had only the single pair madame nervous, and I took extra care of them. Though greatly dependent on them when taking my constitutional on deck for fear they would be thrown down, I carefully placed them in my overcoat pocket and, of course, carelessly broke them on my fifth day out and with five days of sea life still ahead of me it is easy to imagine how helpless I was.

The nervous shock upset me fearfully. I was disturbed in all my five senses. Still, I was soon healed by our nautical "Sunny Jim," our ever-ready Purser, who brought them to me beautifully and artistically repaired inside of an hour. This purser, Mr. Geyer, is a wonder. Only true artists could have done it.

He has the knack for making every passenger think he is the bright, particular star of this trip; he is ever and always considerate and kind; he knows how and when to relax and yet is always strictly business.

I predict for him a great future in this consolidated transportation line that Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan has evolved, for such men as Geyer, no matter what crowd they train with or where their life work, are always eventually "Captain."

It can be said that Mr. Peter Geyer, the Prince of Pursers, as the Irishman observed to the smooth-faced gentleman whom he had addressed as "Your Reverence" and who had replied, "Pat, you're mistaken; I am not a clergyman." "Faith, you'd have been a bishop in any calling you might have been engaged in."

Speaking of sea voyages, I have often wondered why so many people fail to realize their full benefits and beauty. For a comfortable journey, nothing equals a slow boat, and less than eight or ten days at sea is too little to give one the full curative effects. A sea voyage should be considered a blessed privilege and thoroughly enjoyed.

A fast liner does not ride the waves but plunges through them and shakes herself and her passengers up to the "Queen's taste," One always pays twice as much for a quick trip as for a slow one and gets fewer comforts. A famous fast liner generally crowded to the guards with passengers is about as enjoyable as a five or six-day stay in the "Midway" of a Worlds Fair or Luna Park at Coney Island.

The chief benefit of a sea voyage is the complete chance to breathe the purest air on earth, so one should live on deck almost constantly, walk from three to five miles every day and sleep an average of ten hours out of twenty-four each day.

The superabundance of pure air, charged with ozone, renews the sea life the outstanding youth. Nowhere else are the conditions so favorable to mental and physical inertia. So the completest rest and recreation are secured.

One is cut off entirely from the world of business work and worry, from the telegraph boy, the telephone, and the office bell. Indeed there is nothing to do but breathe pure air, eat, sleep and eliminate and be made over, for indeed, as we are out on the ocean sailing, elimination, nutrition, assimilation, tissue repair, all the metabolic processes are more active than anywhere else in all the world.

Like a true philosopher, one feels only two things can happen: a safe termination of the voyage or a trip to the bottom of the sea. In the latter case, the journey is a short one and an easy one. Still, there is less chance for the last possibility of a thousandfold than there is of getting killed in the congested streets of clear old New York.

On the sea, every possible provision is made against danger. At the same time, on Manhattan Island, there is an utter reckless disregard for human life on her thoroughfares.

"Mal de Mer" seasickness, the bête noir of many travelers, is in a few cases conditional and unavoidable. Still, in the great majority, it is preventable.

 

It is vitally essential that the bowels be freely flushed out every day, and constant life on deck, either walking or lounging on a Steamer chair, should be the rule. An increased appetite will demand food, and one should eat abundant fruit and vegetables.

Sea sickness often results from odors of food and other things which can be escaped by going on deck. The rule should never be surrendered and go below except for sleep.

Eat, eat, eat even though cascading follow immediately, for the physical satisfaction secured from tickling the palate is a benefit. A modicum of nutrition is obtained even though the food is retained but a moment.

Take free red pepper with food. In case of nausea, it will often be promptly relieved by a liberal sprinkle of red pepper in champagne, brandy, or ginger ale.

Let it be remembered that seasickness, like many other functional or even more severe disturbances, depends most upon the mental attitude, somewhat upon perverted secretions which need correction, and to a marked degree upon the failure to get the abundance of oxygen and ozone which can be secured nowhere so well as on the upper deck.

An odor of food, mainly onions, cabbage, or fish, on shipboard will often nauseate and furnish a nucleus for a series of alleged seasick experiences when as a matter of fact, had it been hurried away from and the victim of it escaped to the outer air there would have been prompt relief.

So on a very squally sea, two Irishmen with other passengers held on to the railing and cascaded freely into the sea. One says, "Mike, are you weak!" "I am not, ain't I throwing further than anybody!" And he was.

The passengers on the shipboard make up a typical little world, and a ten days voyage shows up the various breeds of human nature strikingly. The qualities of good fellowship will come out of a man on one of these long voyages, if anywhere. If he belongs to the genus, it will soon be made manifest.

Here, as everywhere else, the optimist, the real "chotmucks" get together, as water seeks its level, and here, as everywhere else, the priggish, prime juiced pessimist doesn't seem to get together but to segregate, as they should do; their game, if they play any (but they rarely play), is always "Solitaire and their disposition to flock off to themselves is fortunate, for it is not favorable to contagion.

Every big crowd of travelers can always depend on to furnish one or more bridal pairs. It is always interesting to note their efforts to lose their identity and escape recognition, but they rarely succeed.

The little brides, God bless them, and help them, can't save their little souls, remove evidence of their embarrassment, and the fact that the echoes of the wedding march from Lohengrin are tinging in their ears, and this reminds me to observe that brides should spend their honeymoons close to home and mother unless they have chosen a husband who is the personification of gentleness, thoughtful and considerate, unselfish love and good sense and considerable knowledge of the world and its ways, and who in addition is discreet enough to have consulted a good family physician before embarking upon the shiny sea of matrimony and taking with him from the rosebud garden of girls, who as a rule hardly know enough to chew gum.

Speaking of "bridal pairs" recalls one I met on my trips crossing the briny deep. "The party of the first part," the groom, was not a day under fifty. However, he had been in training so long and so successfully as to be able to pass for forty. However, a careful observer could not fail to note that his hair and mustache had been definitely and distinctly dyed. There were many other pieces of evidence of age present which could not be covered.

His little wife, many years his junior, though not a spring chicken, was a bundle of good cheer and good health, and one might sincerely hope that her supply of good spirits would not be drawn upon too heavily by her pessimistic, prudish, imperfect proper partner, who was priding himself on being an athlete, strutted the deck at all hours either with or without his bride in so self-centered and self-satisfied a way, as to recall the thought of Josh Billings: "Whenever you see a man who is too full of himself doubt you tap him, but plug him up and let him choke to death or bust!"

My only hope, in this case, was that the dear little woman would promptly get busy along nut mal lines, for in that direction only, I believe, was there happiness for her, and yet I could but feel a certain degree of doubt, for according to my observation the victim of extreme athleticism "stuck on his shape'' is often sexually wind broken, if not otherwise physically impaired.

In marked contrast to the specimen of human nature above referred to was a dear old lady oí eighty-two summers; if she ever lived any winters, there was no evidence in her personality; her years must have been perpetual summers for all who knew her.

She was a joy to all on board and a living illustration of the thought that one need never grow old and that the secret of a beautiful maturity lies in keeping the heart young and living in sympathy with every living creature.

This dear old Colonial dame, surrounded by her full-grown grandchildren, had a kind word and a pleasant smile for everyone, from cabin boy to captain. Every passenger felt proud of an expression of welcome or good cheer from her, and her every gentle word, beaming smile, and flash of her brilliant black eyes were all a constant inspiration to us all. I was not surprised a week later when it was my pleasure to meet her at a swell luncheon in gay old Paris, to find her ability to be the center of interest still, though surrounded by youth and beauty on all sides, including some of the alleged nobility.

And what is the secret of such a life that gladdens all fortunate enough to come within its presence? Why, simply this: Mix and mingle with others, thinking of their joy and pleasure instead of your own. Lose yourself in the gladness of life and the happiness of others; therein lies joy, peace, and perpetual youth.

"Editorial: Fragments of a Diary by the Late Dr. In. N. Love," in The Medical Mirror, Vol. XIV, No. 10, October 1903, pp. 361-365.