If you walked into the first-class foyer of the SS United States in 1952, you weren't met with the gilded, over-the-top Victorian mahogany of the Titanic. It wasn't like that at all. Instead, the grand staircase SS United States interior felt like stepping into a high-end mid-century modern apartment that just happened to be floating at 35 knots. It was crisp. It was sharp. It was almost jarringly aluminum.
Most people today see the "Big U" as a rusted hull sitting sadly across from an IKEA in Philadelphia. It's hard to reconcile that skeleton with the sleek, fireproof masterpiece designed by William Francis Gibbs. Gibbs was obsessed. No, really—the man was terrified of fire. He famously claimed there was no wood in the ship’s construction, save for the butcher blocks in the galleys and a Steinway piano that the manufacturer had to prove wouldn't go up in flames. This obsession defined the aesthetics of the entire ship, especially the central hubs where passengers moved between decks.
The grand staircase wasn't just a way to get from the Ballroom to the Dining Room. It was a statement of American industrial might.
The Aesthetic of the Grand Staircase SS United States Interior
You have to understand the era to get why the staircase looked the way it did. We’re talking about the dawn of the Jet Age. While British liners like the Queen Mary were still clinging to art deco wood veneers and heavy fabrics, the United States was all about the future.
The grand staircase SS United States interior featured sweeping curves of anodized aluminum. It had this cool, metallic sheen that reflected the light from hidden coves. Anne Urquhart and the firm of Smyth, Urquhart & Marckwald—the women who actually designed the interiors—didn't want "stuffy." They wanted "airy." They used a palette of "Naval Academy" blue, reds, and whites, but it wasn't kitschy. It was sophisticated.
The stairs themselves were wide. They were designed for women in evening gowns to descend without looking at their feet. That’s a specific kind of luxury, isn't it? The railings were slim, modern, and—you guessed it—made of aluminum.
Why the "Grandness" Was Different
Usually, when we think of a grand staircase on a ship, we think of a massive dome and a ticking clock. Gibbs hated that. He thought it was inefficient and heavy. On the SS United States, the "grandness" came from the scale of the open space and the art.
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On the landings of the main staircases, you’d find incredible edge-lit glass panels and sandblasted glass murals. Some of these were created by Gwen Lux, a prominent sculptor of the time. She did these amazing "Spindrift" motifs—abstracted bubbles and sea foam—that looked like they were floating in the air. It felt less like a ship and more like a gallery. Honestly, the way the light hit those glass panels while the ship was vibrating at high speeds must have been something to see.
The Fireproof Mandate That Changed Everything
Every single design choice in the grand staircase SS United States interior had to pass the "Gibbs Test." Could it burn? If yes, it stayed on the pier.
This meant the carpets were specially treated wool. The curtains were fiberglass (Dynel). Even the "paintings" on the walls were often enamel on metal or carved linoleum. It sounds industrial, but they pulled it off. They used textures to hide the fact that they weren't using "warm" materials like oak or walnut.
- The Materials: Aluminum, glass, monel metal, and fire-retardant resins.
- The Colors: Forget the drab browns of the 1920s; this was Oyster White and Deep Sea Blue.
- The Lighting: Indirect, soft, and completely integrated into the ceiling plates.
There's a story—likely true given Gibbs' personality—that he even tried to get the piano made of aluminum. Steinway eventually convinced him that a metal piano would sound like a trash can falling down a flight of stairs, so he relented. But the staircase? That was his metal monument. It was light. It made the ship faster.
What’s Left of the Interior Today?
This is the part that hurts if you’re a maritime history nerd.
In 1994, the ship was towed to Turkey for asbestos removal. They didn't just take out the insulation; they gutted the ship to the bare metal. Everything. The grand staircase SS United States interior as it existed in 1952 is gone. The glass murals were sold at auction. The aluminum railings were ripped out. The "Spindrift" sculptures ended up in private collections or museums like the Mariners' Museum in Newport News.
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If you stood in that stairwell today, you’d see nothing but rusted steel bulkheads and open gaps where the stairs used to be. It’s a cavern. It’s haunting, frankly. You can see the "bones" of where the landings were, but the glamour has been stripped away.
The Auction of the Century
When the ship’s contents were auctioned off in the 80s and 90s, the world got a glimpse of how much work went into the details. People bought the chairs, the tables, and pieces of the staircase fittings. You can actually find some of these items in themed restaurants or in the homes of collectors who want a piece of the fastest ocean liner ever built.
I’ve seen photos of some of the original aluminum chairs from the dining room near the staircase. They are surprisingly light. You can lift them with a finger. That was the whole point of the SS United States: speed through weight reduction.
Why We Still Talk About a Staircase That Doesn't Exist
It’s easy to get cynical and say, "It’s just a boat." But the grand staircase SS United States interior represented the peak of American mid-century design. It was the moment we stopped copying Europe and started doing our own thing.
It was sleek. It was fast. It was unburnable.
There's a reason groups like the SS United States Conservancy have fought for decades to save the hull. Even without the staircase, the ship is a feat of engineering. However, the news lately hasn't been great. With the ship potentially being turned into an artificial reef in Florida, the dream of seeing that staircase recreated in a static museum ship is fading.
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The Real Legacy
The legacy of the interior isn't just in the physical stairs. It’s in the philosophy of the design. It proved that "luxury" didn't have to mean "old-fashioned." You could have a world-class travel experience surrounded by modern alloys and synthetic fabrics.
If you want to see what it looked like, don't look at the current photos of the ship in Philly. Look at the archives of the Smyth, Urquhart & Marckwald firm. Look at the colorized photos from the 1950s. That’s where the ghost of the grand staircase lives.
How to Experience the SS United States Today
Since you can't walk the actual stairs anymore, here is how you can actually get a feel for the grand staircase SS United States interior and the rest of the ship:
- Visit the Mariners' Museum: They hold the largest collection of artifacts, including pieces of the interior artwork and furniture. It’s the closest you’ll get to the real thing.
- The Hudson River Museum: They’ve held exhibitions specifically on the art of the ship.
- Digital Reconstructions: There are several high-quality 3D walkthroughs created by historians that use the original blueprints to show exactly how the staircase looked in its prime.
- Stay Informed on the Florida Project: If the ship is moved to become a reef, there may be final opportunities for public documentation or 3D scanning that will preserve the layout of the interior spaces forever.
The SS United States was a ship of superlatives. Fastest. Safest. Most modern. Even though the grand staircase is now just a memory recorded in black-and-white photos and auction catalogs, its design remains a masterclass in how to combine safety with style. We probably won't see its like again. Modern cruise ships are amazing, sure, but they’re "vegas-on-water." The Big U was something else entirely. It was a silver arrow cutting through the North Atlantic.
If you're interested in the preservation efforts, the best thing you can do is support the organizations that are documenting the ship's history before it's moved. Once it's underwater, the "interior" becomes a different kind of story—one for the fish and the divers. But the blueprints? Those are forever.
Keep an eye on the heritage sales; occasionally, small fittings from the staircases or nearby lounges still pop up. It’s your chance to own a literal piece of the fastest ship in history.
Actionable Insights for Enthusiasts:
- Research the Designers: Look up Dorothy Marckwald. She’s the unsung hero who made "fireproof" look "fabulous."
- Check Local Auctions: Search for "Smyth, Urquhart & Marckwald" or "SS United States fittings" on specialized maritime auction sites like Christie’s or smaller nautical boutiques.
- Support Documentation: If you have photos from family trips on the ship, donate digital copies to the SS United States Conservancy to help complete the visual record of the interior.
The era of the great Atlantic liners is over, but the design lessons of the SS United States—speed, weight efficiency, and bold material use—still echo in modern aerospace and naval architecture today.