Isaac Lehmann was born in Manhattan, New York City, in the United States of America on the 13th July 1879, the son of Abraham and Maline Lehmann (née Goudchaux). His father, who was a German immigrant, owned a dry goods store, and his mother had been born in France. Isaac was the second youngest of thirteen children.
He was an export broker and a buyer of supplies for the United States Government, with offices at 116. Broad St., New York City. His home address was 24. Stone Street, New York City.
In early 1915, he had been in Europe on business, and had returned to New York City on board the Lusitania on the 27th March. He was only back in New York City for a few weeks before he found it necessary to return to Europe, and therefore he booked passage again as a saloon passenger on the Lusitania, sailing from New York to Liverpool on 1st May. He joined the liner at her berth, Pier 54 in New York harbour on that morning, with ticket number 46158 and was escorted to his room, number 48 on ‘D’ deck. This room was the personal responsibility of First Class Bedroom Steward William Barnes, who came from New Brighton, a district of Wallasey on the opposite side of the River Mersey from Liverpool.
Isaac Lehmann was on his way to Paris, France, to negotiate the sale of a large quantity of cloth to the French Government for the manufacture of military uniforms.
Six days later, with the liner almost at her destination, he was to play an unusual part in the events of her sinking. His story is told in The Times for Monday 19th May 1915 and states: -
“I was in the smoking room with a friend when I heard a shot fired. There was only one torpedo. It struck in the neighbourhood of the engine room. I ran to the boats. While an attempt was being made to lower one of the boats, the ropes snapped and 30 people were thrown into the water.
This boat was Lifeboat No. 12 which had been lowered under the instruction of Staff Captain J.C. Anderson and its plight naturally unnerved Isaac Lehmann, as told by authors Des Hickey and Des Smith in their book Seven Days to Disaster: -
The sight of No. 12 lifeboat falling into the sea was too much for Isaac Lehmann. He rushed down to D deck, only to find that someone had already been to his stateroom and taken his lifejacket. For a moment he
hesitated. Then he flung open his dress suitcase and took out his revolver. He thought, quite clearly, “This will be useful if someone is doing the wrong thing.” On his way up to the boat deck he met his steward William Barnes. “Get me a life-jacket, Barnes,” he ordered. Impatiently, he stood waiting until the steward returned and fastened on the jacket. Stepping onto the boat deck Lehmann encountered Purser McCubbin and the ship's surgeon. The two men looked at him quizzically. “Please stay calm, Mr. Lehmann. There's no chance of her going down.”
Lehmann’s account in The Times continued: -
I ran to my cabin, got my revolver and a lifebelt and came back to a second boat which had been loaded. I shouted ‘For God’s sake, launch the boat.’ A man replied, ‘The captain’s orders are not to launch the boats.’ I promptly drew my revolver and said, ‘I’ll shoot the first man who does not launch that boat.’
The boat was launched with about 60 people in it. They got away all right, but the Lusitania lurched and the boat came back and struck the side, about 20 people being killed or injured. At the same moment I heard an explosion in the forepart of the ship, and two minutes later the ship went down.
The lifeboat that Isaac Lehmann forced to be launched was No. 18 and his actions, although well meant, may have helped to cause the deaths of as many as 30 persons on the deck. No. 18 was on the port side of the liner and as she was listing heavily to starboard, it is likely that the crew members were waiting until it reached the sea before releasing it from its davits. When they cut the falls, under threat from Lehmann, all that happened was that having struck the sloping side of the ship, the lifeboat bounced back inboard and crushed many that were waiting on top of the collapsible lifeboat underneath where No. 18 had been and standing on the deck!
Fellow saloon passenger and valet George Slingsby witnessed the misfortune which happened to Lifeboat No. 18, which was related in his biography named George: Memoirs of a Gentleman’s Gentleman. It stated: -
On the port side, George found a man brandishing a revolver and demanding to know why lifeboats weren't being lowered. A crewman with an axe in his hand said the Captain had ordered that boats weren’t to be launched. No one appreciated the catastrophes that had occurred trying to launch boats while the ship was still moving rapidly through the water. Under threat of shooting, the seamen knocked out the pin and the boat, loaded with passengers, crashed down on to others clambering up the sloping deck.
Lehmann had also been badly injured in the leg when Lifeboat No. 18 swung inboard and found it difficult to move. As he was making his way painfully to the rails, he was washed overboard as the Lusitania began to sink. His Times account finished with: -
I was thrown clear of the wreckage, but went under twice. Then my lifebelt brought me up, and by placing two oars under my arms, I kept myself afloat for about four hours and a half, when I was rescued.
The boat which finally rescued him was the Queenstown harbour tender Flying Fish and after landing him and oth
overnight in The Queen’s Hotel, before being able to complete his interrupted journey to England, where he stayed at the Savoy Hotel in the Strand, London, for a number of days. The Queen’s Hotel is still trading in Queenstown today, except that it is now called The Commodore Hotel and Queenstown is now called Cobh.
Bedroom Steward Barnes, who had looked after Isaac Lehmann in room D48, also survived the sinking and eventually made it back to his Wallasey home.
After the war, the Mixed Claims Commission awarded Isaac Lehmann the sum of $6,000.00 in compensation for his ordeal.
Isaac Lehmann died of 8th May 1947, aged 67 years, almost 32 years to the day, that the Lusitania had gone down. At the time of his death he was residing at 40. West 72nd St., Manhattan, New York City. He never married, and resided for most of his life with a widowed older sister named Mrs. Henrietta “Nettie” Franks.
New York Index to Birth Certificates 1866 – 1909, New York Index to Death Certificates 1862 – 1948, 1880 U.S. Federal Census, 1900 U.S. Federal Census, 1910 U.S. Federal Census, 1915 New York State Census, 1920 U.S. Federal Census, 1930 U.S. Federal Census, 1940 U.S. Federal Census, New York Passenger Lists 1820 – 1957, Cunard Records, Mixed Claims Commission Docket No. 2217, U.S. World War I Draft Registration Cards 1917 – 1918, U.S. World War II Draft Registration Cards 1942, Seven Days to Disaster, Last Voyage of the Lusitania, PRO 77/21, UniLiv D92/2/91, Graham Maddocks, Geoff Whitfield, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly.