Edward Harries Lander was born in Glen Ochil, Clackmannanshire, Scotland, on the 23rd November 1882, the son of William Lawrence and Phanetta Bolwell Lander (née Gosling). His family lived in Carmarthenshire in Wales, various places in Scotland, and finally, Bristol, Gloucestershire, England, depending on where his father was stationed as an Excise Officer, working for the Inland Revenue. After finally settling in Bristol, the family lived at Brigstock Road for many years, before later moving to 5. Logan Road, Bishopston, in Bristol.
Edward became a salesman for a woollen merchants, and in 1906, he went to the United States of America on behalf of his employers, settling in New York City. He was employed by Milbank, Leaman & Company, who were New York City wool merchants, so either he joined them shortly after his arrival in New York City, or he was originally employed by the company in England.
On the 18th November 1911, he married Ebba Christina Lawson in Chicago, which was her native city, and they had one child, a son named Roberts Lawrence Lander. In 1915, the family resided at 2678. Valentine Avenue, Bronx, New York City.
On the morning of 1st May 1915, he boarded the Lusitania as a second cabin passenger on a business trip to Great Britain for his firm. And six days later, just before the liner was struck, in the early afternoon of 7th May, he was on deck in the company of Miss Elizabeth Rogers, another second cabin passenger, who also came from the Bristol area, and whom he had met on the liner. She was holding Joan Fish, the infant child of her sister, Mrs. Sarah May Fish, who was also travelling on the liner with her three children, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada.
Edward Lander survived the sinking and on his eventual return to Bristol, he gave an account of his experiences to a reporter from local newspaper The Western Daily Press. This account was published in the newspaper on Monday 10th May 1915 and stated: -
His friends at Bishopton were anxious when they heard he had booked a passage on the great liner threatened by German attack, but no much heed was paid to stories of her impending fate by those aboard her. Friday morning was slightly foggy, but cleared, and when the Irish shore was sighted it was many miles distant - twenty - according to a landsman’s estimate. The weather was fine, and while some of the passengers were at lunch below, others were on deck. Mr. Lander had been friendly on the voyage home with some other passengers from Bristol, - Mrs. Fish and Miss Rogers and their party - and from their side has come warm appreciation of the service he rendered in the critical time.
Mr. Lander explained that just before the submarine attack, he was on the port side of the deck, and close to him a young lady, Miss Rogers, holding a baby belonging to Mrs. Fish. Continuing, he said he saw no submarine, and when his attention was turned to the wake of the torpedo rushing below the surface of the water, it was close to the ship - perhaps not more than an
eighth of a mile. The missile was heading straight for the Lusitania, and hit her about mid-ships.
“Someone cried out ’It’s got us,’ and upon contact with the vessel the torpedo exploded with a dull sound, without making a big racket. We saw a big cloud of smoke; the engines of the Lusitania stopped and the vessel took a list to starboard. We crawled on to the first cabin deck, and many others with us and there was a lot of water on part of the deck. I grabbed the baby and held the young lady by the wrist and we managed to scramble to the top deck where the boats were. That deck seemed pretty clear.
The lady and I found a lifeboat into which we got and I kept the baby in my arms. The boat was crowded with members of the crew, so that there was not room to turn round in her. Then somebody came alongside and said ‘It’s all right, she’s on the bottom.’ Thinking it safe to return to ship, we all got off our boat and again went aboard the Lusitania. Doubt arose as to the safety of the ship, and people began to get into the boat again.
Suddenly, the Lusitania sank. Our boat was attached to her by a rope and we went down with the steamship. The baby was wrenched from my arms and it seemed, in going down into the sea, as if I turned over and over again. Then I felt myself coming up again. I came to the surface but once more sank. Coming up a second time, I struck out a little and saw an overturned lifeboat a little way off. One man was on it. I reached her and getting on her, lay for a little while. I was very nearly unconscious. When I had recovered somewhat, we saw a woman’s dress in the sea - merely the back of the dress was showing. The man on the boat got hold of the woman’s head, and I held on to her clothes, and we pulled her on to the flat bottom of the overturned lifeboat with us.
Soon after we saw a collapsible boat with six men in her - members of the crew, I believe. Her side was stove in, but she kept afloat. We hailed her; she came to us and they took us aboard. I was shivering greatly, and one fellow, who seemed in command, told us to take an oar. The pulling worked up a little circulation and made one feel better. Then someone else took a turn at pulling and I was put back on the bottom of the upturned lifeboat again.
There were many people floating around and we saw two men and a woman hanging on to a tank boat. Those were afterwards rescued by the collapsible boat. The lifeboat on which I was, was allowed to drift for a time, and for a time was secured to the collapsible by a rope. Boats dotted the sea and hope was raised by a little fishing smack that could be seen off the Irish coast.
There was not much wind, however, and the smack went towards the coast instead of coming to us. Possibly she had as many people aboard as she could take. There were lots of deck chairs floating around, but we only saw one that was being used as a means of support, and that by a woman, who also had a lifejacket. The collapsible boat picked up about half-a-dozen people while cruising about and remained so engaged a long time until we were pretty well alone
The fellow, who seemed in command, was almost certainly Junior Third Officer Alfred Bestic, and the woman in the deck chair that was being used as a means of support, was almost certainly Lady Margaret Mackworth, leading light in the suffrage movement, who, at that time was actually unconscious. Edward Lander continued his account: -
Then we arranged to cry ‘Help’ in chorus. H.M.S. Bluebell, a government tug or patrol boat, came to our assistance after we had been in the water about a couple of hours. The crew on the Bluebell were very good; they gave us steaming hot tea, and after changing some of my wet things, I went to sleep. Two or three hours later we reached Queenstown, but were delayed in getting ashore, owing to the number of boats before us. On the Bluebell there were 47 survivors and 10 dead. Captain Turner the commander was one of the survivors aboard, and Lady Mackworth another. It was 11 o’clock at night when we landed at Queenstown.
At the Cunard offices we were told we could send what telegrams or cablegrams we liked, and I despatched messages to New York, London, and Bristol. A soldier there took us in charge and got me some clothes, so that I might return the garments borrowed on board the Bluebell. The Queenstown people were very kind and I may tell you that the American Consul was there advancing money to those who needed it, English as well as American. A cable was received from Mr. Bryan, the United States Foreign Secretary, who then had no idea of the appalling nature of the calamity, and who asked for the names of American survivors to be wired.”
The American Consul in Queenstown at the time was a Mr. Wesley Frost who despite the suddenness of the atrocious situation acted with great merit and dignity.
In answer to questions, Mr. Lander said he was told that there was a depth of 60 fathoms where the Cunarder went down. The incident about the partial settling down and then the declaration of safety seemed curious, and the enquiry was made whether the effect of the second torpedo precipitated the sinking. Mr. Lander was unable to say from his own knowledge whether there was a second torpedo.
He came on to Bristol via Rosslare and Fishguard. Some of the survivors brought along with them their lifebuoys to keep them as souvenirs. There were not many of these available for those on deck when the disaster occurred, but there were plenty below, and those who were below when the ship was struck were able to supply themselves with these aids.
Although the infant, Joan Fish, was never seen again after being dragged from Edward Lander’s grasp, Elizabeth Rogers, Sarah Fish and her other two children did survive to make it to Bristol, like Mr. Lander.
In November 1915, Edward Lander wrote to the Cunard Steamship Company informing them that he had a copy of the daily bulletin published on board the Lusitania, dated the 6th May, and enquired as to the value the company would put on it. He received a reply stating that there was not much value on it!
Edward Lander became a naturalized U.S. citizen, and worked for Milbank, Leaman & Company until his retirement. As a company salesman, he travelled extensively to Europe for many years, as well as travelling the length and breadth of the United States of America. By the time he retired from the company, he and his family were residing in Detroit, Michigan.
After his retirement, he moved with his wife to the small city of WaKeeney, Trego County, Kansas, where he died on the 31st January 1973, aged 90 years. His wife died a few months later, and they are buried side-by-side in WaKeeney City Cemetery.
U.S. Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, Swedish American Church Records 1800 – 1947, 1891 Census of England & Wales, 1901 Census of England & Wales, 1920 U.S. Federal Census, 1930 U.S. Federal Census, 1940 U.S. Federal Census, New York State and Federal Naturalization Records 1794 – 1943, U.S. Passport Applications 1795 – 1925, Cunard Records, U.S. World War I Draft Registration Cards 1917 – 1918, U.S. World War II Draft Registration Cards 1942, Bristol Press, The Western Daily Press, The Western Daily News, UniLiv D92/2/296, Graham Maddocks, Geoff Whitfield, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly.