Howard Lowrie Fisher was born in Wheeling, West Virginia, in the United States of America on 25th January 1866, the son of Daniel Webster and Amanda Fisher (née Kouns). His father was a church minister. At some point during his childhood, his family moved to Hanover, Indiana, where Howard attended Hanover College. His father, Daniel, was the president of the college during this period of his life.
Howard studied medicine and qualified as a medical practitioner. He had a practice in Washington D.C., which he probably shared with his brother-in-law Dr. L.A. Conner. He was married to Dr. Conner’s sister Sarah Katherine in New Albany, Indiana, on the 10th January 1896. One of his brothers was Walter L. Fisher, a former Secretary of the Interior of the United States. They resided at Apartment 6, The Mendota, 2220 20th Street NW, in Washington D.C.
Shortly after his marriage, Howard and his wife, Katherine, went to India, where their two sons, Howard and Elisha, were born. The family returned to the United States of America in 1899. Their eldest son, Howard, died in 1902, aged 6 years.
In early 1915, Doctor Fisher decided to put his professional skills to good use in war torn Europe, by travelling to Belgium, to take up duties with the Red Cross there.
As the first step on this journey, he booked saloon passage on the Lusitania and when he boarded her at Pier 54, in New York, on the morning of 1st May 1915, he was allocated room E50, (with ticket number 46111), which was the personal responsibility of First Class Bedroom Steward John Charlton, who came from Waterloo, on the outskirts of Liverpool. He was accompanied on his journey by his sister-in-law, Miss Dorothy Conner, who had enrolled as a nurse and also wanted to serve the wounded. She was in nearby room E63.
Doctor Fisher survived the sinking, just six days later and on being rescued from the sea and landed in Queenstown, gave an account of his experiences to the press, which was later published in The New York Times of 10th May 1915. It stated: -
It is not true that those on board were unconcerned over the possibility of being torpedoed. I took the big liner to save time, and also because in case of a floating mine I felt that she would have more chance of staying up. But, like everybody else aboard, I felt sure that in case of being torpedoed we would have ample time to take to the boats.
I do not know what case is being made out for the Cunard people, but I cannot say that either discipline or precautions were up to the standard.
When I heard the crash I rushed to the port side. No officer was in sight. An effort was being made to lower the boat swinging just opposite the grand entrance. Women, children, and men made a mad scramble about this boat, which was smashed against the side, throwing all the occupants into the sea.
Then two big men, one a sailor and the other a passenger, succeeded in launching a second boat. Much to my surprise, this amateur effort was successful. This boat got away, and carried chiefly women and children. This boat was successfully launched on the port side.
We then saw our first glimpse of an officer, who came along the deck and spoke to Lady Mackworth, Miss Conner, and myself, who were standing in a group. He said: “Don't worry; the ship will right itself.”
He had hardly moved on before the ship turned sideways, and then seemed to plunge headforemost into the sea.
Lady Mackworth was prominent in the suffrage movement of the time in Great Britain and had been in America to accompany her father who was a wealthy coal mine owner and who had crossed the Atlantic on a previous sailing of the Lusitania, to oversee some mines and other property he had bought in America.
In 1933, she wrote an account of her life, which she called This Was My World, in which she included a gripping account of her experiences during and after the sinking of the Lusitania. In it, she mentioned both Dr. Fisher and his sister-in-law, Dorothy Conner although she referred to them both only as Miss C____ and Dr. F____. She well remembered meeting them both on deck, after the Lusitania had been torpedoed: -
As I came out into the sunlight, I saw standing together the American doctor, Dr. F___, and his sister-in-law, Miss C____. I asked if I might stay beside them until I caught sight of my father which I made sure of doing soon. I put on my own lifebelt and held the other in my hand. Just after I reached the deck a stream of steerage passengers came rushing up from below and fought their way into the boat nearest us, which was being lowered. They were white-faced and terrified; I think they were shrieking; there was no kind of order -- the strongest got there first, the weak were pushed aside. Here and there a man had his arm around and woman’s waist and bore her along with him; but there were no children to be seen; no children could have lived in that throng. They rushed a boat before it was ready for them. A ship’s officer made some feeble attempt to prevent them, but there was real attempt at order or discipline.
As we watched, I turned to the American girl ... “I always thought a shipwreck was a well-organised affair”. “So did I,” said she, “but I’ve learnt a devil of a lot in the last five minutes.” Two seamen began to lower the boat, which was full to overflowing, but no one was in command of them. One man lowered his end quickly, the other lowered his out, but the boat did not capsize, and I think most of them scrambled back afterwards. I do not know. We turned away and did not look. It was not safe to look at horrible things just then. Curious that it never for a moment struck any of us as possible to attempt to get into the boat ourselves. Even at that moment death would have seemed better than to make part of that terror infected crowd. I remember regretfully thinking something of this sort.
That was the last boat I saw lowered. It became impossible to lower any more from our side owing to the list on the ship. No one else except that white-faced stream seemed to lose control. A number of people were moving about the deck, gently and vaguely. They reminded one of a swarm of bees who do not know where the queen has gone. Presently Dr. F____ decided to go down and fetch lifebelts for himself and his sister-in-law. Whilst he was away the vessel righted herself perceptibly, and word was passed around the bulkheads had been closed and the danger was over. We laughed and shook hands and I said, “Well, you’ve had your thrill all right.” “I never want another,” she answered. Soon after, the doctor returned bearing two lifebelts. He said he had had to wade through deep water down below to get them.
Whilst we were standing, I unhooked my skirt so that it should come straight off and not impede me in the water. The list on the ship soon got worse again, and, indeed, became very bad. Presently Dr. F____ said he thought we had better jump into the sea. (We had thought of doing so before, but word had been passed around from the captain that it was better to stay where we were.) Dr. F____ and Miss C____ moved towards the edge of the deck where the boat had been and there was no railing.
Howard Fisher and Dorothy Conner jumped into the sea shortly before the liner had taken her final plunge and The New York Times printed his account of what happened to him after that: -
I came up after what seemed to be an interminable time under water and found myself surrounded by swimmers, dead bodies, and wreckage. I got on an upturned yawl, where I found thirty other people, among them Lady Allan, whose collarbone was broken while she was in the water.
Another passenger on the yawl, a man whose name I did not learn, had his arm hanging by the skin. His injury was probably due to the explosion which followed. This arm was amputated successfully with a butcher's knife by a little Italian surgeon aboard a tramp steamer which picked me up.
This tramp was flying the Greek flag, hence the report that a Greek steamer was on the scene. It was midnight before I arrived at a hotel in Queenstown. There I found neither dry clothing nor a bed, but was compelled to sleep on the floor of the hotel parlour.
I do not see how the Cunard Company or the Admiralty can hold themselves free from blame for this tragedy. The authorities allowed a great ship, loaded with a valuable cargo, to proceed through known dangerous waters without a single torpedo boat as a convoy.
The tramp steamer which picked up Dr. Fisher was in fact the Greek steamer Katerina outward bound from Havana, Cuba, laden with sugar and diverted from Queenstown where she was going to re-coal, to pick up survivors.
Lady Margaret Mackworth and Lady Marguerite Allan both saloon passengers, survived their ordeal, as did Dorothy Conner.
Bedroom Steward Charlton, who looked after Dr. Fisher in room E50, also survived the sinking and eventually returned to his native Waterloo.
Both Dr. Fisher and his sister-in-law, Dorothy Connor, eventually found their way to France, but didn’t remain there very long as they boarded the S.S. Rochambeau at Bordeaux, France, on the 26th September 1915, and arrived safely in New York on the 5th October.
Howard Fisher continued to practise as a physician for many years and died on the 8th July 1946 at Arlington, Virginia, aged 80 years.
1870 U.S. Federal Census, 1880 U.S. Federal Census, 1900 U.S. Federal Census, 1910 U.S. Federal Census, 1920 U.S. Federal Census, 1930 U.S. Federal Census, 1940 U.S. Federal Census, New York Passenger Lists 1820 – 1957, U.S. Passport Applications 1795 – 1925, Cunard Records, New York Times, Knoxville Journal and Tribune, Smethwick Telephone, This Was My World, PRO 22/71, Graham Maddocks, Mark E. Dunning, Geoff Whitfield, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly.