Walk into the rusting hulk of the SS United States today at its Pier 82 berth in Philadelphia, and you'll mostly see light. It pours through thousands of empty portholes, hitting bare steel decks and stripped bulkheads. It’s quiet. Spooky, honestly. But if you were standing in that same spot in 1952, you’d be surrounded by the most radical, fireproof, and mid-century modern SS United States interior ever conceived.
People often call her the "Big U."
She wasn't just a boat. She was a massive, floating statement of American industrial might. William Francis Gibbs, the neurotic and brilliant naval architect who designed her, had a borderline obsession with fire safety. Because of the tragedy of the SS Normandie, which burned at a pier in New York, Gibbs famously decreed that no wood was allowed in the SS United States interior. None. The only wooden items on the entire ship were the butcher blocks in the kitchens and the grand pianos. Even the pianos were made of a specially treated, fire-resistant mahogany, though Gibbs reportedly tried to pressure Steinway into making an aluminum one. They refused.
The aluminum obsession and the "Total Look"
When you talk about the SS United States interior, you have to talk about aluminum. It was everywhere. The furniture, the wall panels, the decorative art—everything was metallic but didn't feel "cold" because of the genius of the interior design team.
The ship didn't have that heavy, Edwardian "Grand Hotel" vibe of the Titanic or the Queen Mary. It felt like a high-end Manhattan apartment from the future. The design firms Smyth, Urquhart & Marckwald (the women who basically defined the look of American shipping) used a palette of reds, blues, and golds to keep the spaces from looking like a sterile hospital.
They used a lot of glass, too. Gwen Lux created these incredible "Oceanic" themed sculptures out of foam glass for the dining rooms. They were light, fireproof, and looked like something out of a dream.
The First Class Dining Room was a masterpiece of 1950s aesthetics. Imagine a room that could seat hundreds, shimmering with gold-anodized aluminum panels. It wasn't just about looking pretty. Everything was functional. The ship was secretly designed to be converted into a troopship in case of war. It could carry 14,000 soldiers. That’s why the hallways were so wide and the SS United States interior was so stripped-down and modular.
Why the ship looks like a "ghost" now
If you’ve seen photos of the interior recently, you might feel a bit sick. It looks like a cavern.
In 1984, the ship's contents were auctioned off. Everything went. The mid-century chairs, the custom-made Meyer Gunther rugs, the heavy silver service—it all ended up in private collections. Then, in the 1990s, the ship was towed to Turkey and later Ukraine for asbestos removal. They didn't just take the asbestos; they gutted the SS United States interior down to the bare ribs.
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They ripped out the walls.
They tore up the flooring.
What we have left is the "steel envelope." This is actually a blessing and a curse. It makes the ship lighter and easier to tow, but it means that any future restoration—like the current plans to turn it into an artificial reef or a museum (the news on this changes monthly, it seems)—will have to recreate the interior from scratch using the original blueprints.
The First Class Lounge: A lost world of tech
One of the most impressive parts of the SS United States interior was the Ballroom. It featured a raised bandstand and a dance floor that was actually sprung to help dancers move with the motion of the ocean.
The lighting was a big deal. They used a mix of indirect fluorescent and incandescent bulbs to mimic natural sunlight, which was pretty high-tech for 1952. You've got to remember that back then, crossing the Atlantic was still the height of glamour. You’d have the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, Marilyn Monroe, and Marlon Brando hanging out in these lounges. They weren't looking for a "cruise ship" with water slides. They wanted a fast, stable, and incredibly chic way to get to London or Paris.
The ship was fast. Insanely fast.
On her maiden voyage, she smashed the Blue Riband record, crossing the Atlantic in 3 days, 10 hours, and 40 minutes. The interior stayed remarkably stable even at speeds exceeding 35 knots, thanks to the hull design. People eating their lobster thermidor in the First Class Dining Room barely felt the vibration, even though the engines were churning out 240,000 shaft horsepower beneath their feet.
Living in the "Big U" cabins
Even in Tourist Class, the SS United States interior was surprisingly decent.
- First Class: Suites featured walk-in closets, multiple bathrooms, and telephones that could actually reach the shore via radio-link.
- Cabin Class: A bit tighter, but still featured the signature aluminum furniture and high-quality linoleum floors that were waxed to a mirror shine.
- Tourist Class: Shared bathrooms were common, but the public spaces were still designed by the same top-tier firms.
There was a sense of hierarchy, sure, but the whole ship felt unified by that "Gibbs style." He hated the idea of clutter. Every pipe, every wire, and every vent was hidden behind those aluminum panels.
The Art that vanished
The ship was a floating gallery. There were these massive murals by Mira Jedwabnik and Peter Ostuni. They used vitreous enamel on copper to create these "map" murals that showed the constellations or the currents of the Atlantic.
Because they were made of metal and glass, they fit the fireproof mandate.
Most of these pieces are now in museums like the Mariners' Museum in Newport News, Virginia. If you want to see what the SS United States interior actually felt like, that’s where you have to go. You can stand in front of the original bar or sit in one of the aluminum chairs. They feel surprisingly heavy and incredibly sturdy. They were built to last a thousand years. It’s ironic, then, that the ship itself has spent more time sitting idle than it did in service.
What most people get wrong about the restoration
You hear people say, "Just fix it up! Make it a hotel!"
It’s not that simple. The SS United States interior is over half a million square feet. To rebuild that to modern building codes—while staying true to the 1950s aesthetic—would cost hundreds of millions of dollars. Plus, the ship is over 990 feet long. Finding a pier that can hold it, provide power, and handle sewage is a logistical nightmare.
Currently, there is a deal to sink the ship off the coast of Florida to create the world's largest artificial reef. Purists hate this. They want the interior rebuilt. But honestly? The ship is a shell. The "soul" of the interior was sold in 1984.
What to do if you're a fan of the Big U
If you're fascinated by the history of the SS United States interior, don't just look at blurry photos of the current rusted hull.
- Visit the Mariners' Museum: They have the best collection of original furniture and fixtures.
- Search Auction Records: Occasionally, original aluminum chairs or "Big U" branded china pop up on eBay or at specialty maritime auctions.
- Study the Blueprints: The SS United States Conservancy has done a great job of preserving the technical drawings.
The story of the interior is really a story of American transition. We went from the heavy, wooden, ornate world of the 19th century to the sleek, metallic, "go-fast" world of the Jet Age. The SS United States was the peak of that transition.
While the ship might soon become a home for fish rather than movie stars, the design legacy of the SS United States interior lives on in every modern minimalist space we inhabit today. It taught us that "fireproof" could be beautiful and that aluminum was a metal fit for a queen—or at least, the fastest lady on the Atlantic.
To truly understand this ship, look past the rust. Imagine the vibrant reds of the carpets, the hum of the air conditioning (which was state-of-the-art), and the sound of a cocktail shaker in the Navajo Lounge. That's the real SS United States. It wasn't just a machine; it was a high-style sanctuary designed to beat the world's records while looking effortlessly cool.
Final takeaways for the history buff
If you want to dive deeper into the technical side of the ship, look up the work of William Francis Gibbs. His biography, A Man and His Ship by Steven Ujifusa, is the gold standard for understanding why the interior was built the way it was. You’ll learn that the ship was essentially a giant, lightweight engine wrapped in a thin layer of luxury.
Also, keep an eye on the SS United States Conservancy. They are the primary group fighting to keep the ship's memory alive, regardless of whether it stays afloat or becomes a reef. They often host virtual tours that show the "skeleton" of the ship as it stands today, which provides a haunting contrast to the promotional photos from the 1950s.
The SS United States is a reminder that even the most advanced technology eventually becomes a relic. But good design? That's forever. Even if it's currently hidden under layers of peeling paint in a quiet corner of the Philadelphia waterfront.
Next Steps for Enthusiasts:
Check the official SS United States Conservancy website for the latest updates on the ship's relocation. If you're in the Philadelphia area, you can still see the ship from the parking lot of the IKEA across the street—it's the best place for a clear view of those iconic red, white, and blue funnels before she eventually moves. Support the preservation of the ship's artifacts by visiting the Mariners' Museum, which ensures the actual physical pieces of the interior remain accessible to the public.