Oscar Frederick Grab was born in Vienna, Austria, on the 5th December 1886, the son of Frederick and Catherine Grab (née Jokel). In 1901, his family immigrated to the United States of America and settled in New York City, where his father established his own business as a fashion importer. In 1906, his father became a naturalised U.S. citizen, and as a consequence, so did the entire family
Oscar became vice-president, and a salesman for the family business – Max Grab Fashion Company, 392. Fifth Avenue, New York City. His position necessitated him travelling back and forth to Europe on a regular basis.
On the 23rd March 1915, he married Claire Runkel in Manhattan, New York City, and the couple had two children, a daughter named Victoria, and a son named Donald.
In 1915, the family lived at 150, West 79th Street, New York City, N.Y. In the spring of 1915, he intended to travel to England and France on business, and consequently booked saloon passage on what would be the
Lusitania’s final voyage out of New York and joined the vessel on the morning of 1st May 1915 at Pier 54 in New York harbour. Once on board, (with ticket number 46161), he was escorted to his room, E58, which was the responsibility of First Class Bedroom Steward David Critchley, who came from Bootle, in Lancashire, not far away from the
Lusitania’s home port of Liverpool.
He survived the sinking exactly six days later on the afternoon of 7th May by the German submarine
U-20 and having been plucked from the sea and landed at Queenstown, he told of his experience to representatives of local newspaper
The Cork Examiner, which was published in the edition of Monday 10th May. It stated: -
I was standing aft of the smoking room after lunch. The land was visible, as it was quite clear and calm, the thick fog in which the Lusitania had been enveloped from 7 to 11 having been lest astern. I suddenly with four others who were with me, saw something stick up out of the water about 200 yards away. In a very short space of time we all saw an object coming along the surface of the water in a direct line for the ship. I exclaimed : “My God, its a torpedo!” and looking over the side, saw it strike the starboard side with an awful shock, the resultant explosion lifting me two feet off the deck. The ship immediately began listing to starboard and water speedily rushed in.
I ran for my cabin on E Deck, but could only get to C Deck on account of the volumes of smoke filling the corridors. I tried six state rooms in succession before I was able to get hold of a life-preserver. I got it on and rushed on deck which was now inclined at an angle, rendering walking very difficult. I remained on the starboard side of the deck until the water was lapping the vessel’s side almost at my feet. I then slid into the water so easily that I did not even wet my hair.
I swam towards a boat but found the reason why no one was in it was that it was fill of water. I was soon picked up by a boat in which there were about 20 women and some children. We had to keep the women lying on the bottom of the boat so as to give us freedom for pulling. You can see the skin came off my hands while engaged in rowing. No boat being in sight, we pulled for a lighthouse, and after one and a half hours rowing, saw the Stormcock bearing down on us.
The lighthouse was the Halpin Lighthouse on The Old Head of Kinsale and the Stormcock was the Royal Naval tug H.M.S
Stormcock.
We were quickly got on board, some of the women now being hysterical. You know in what state we arrived at Queenstown
The ship went down as seen by me from the water in this fashion: she had settled down well forward. She then listed to starboard, rose to the perpendicular until her stern, with propellers was sticking straight out of the water. An explosion then occurred as the water reached the boilers. One of the funnels was blown clear into the air, and in half a minute there was nothing visible of the Lusitania but a lot of wreckage mingled with a number of dead bodies.
I have nothing but praise to give in connection with the conduct of the officers and crew. There was a certain amount of confusion, but this was to be expected, as the boat crews could not get at their own particular boats and rushed to help at others.
Bedroom Steward Critchley did not survive the sinking, however, and never saw his Bootle home again.
Oscar Grab made his way to London where he stayed for a time at the Savoy Hotel. On his return to New York he filed a claim against Cunard in the U.S. District Court, Southern District of New York, for $16,000. As Cunard were cleared of all blame in the inquests and enquiries held at Kinsale, London, and New York, it is unlikely he succeeded in winning his case.
He did, however, file a successful claim for injuries and loss of property which was dealt with by the Mixed Claims Commission after the War had ended. The Commission awarded him the sum of $6,000.00 for personal injuries, and a further $1,080.00 for the loss of his personal belongings.
Oscar Grab died on 9th June 1958, aged 71 years, and his remains interred in Beth El Cemetery, Ridgewood, Queens County, New York City.
New York Extracted Marriage Index 1866 – 1937, New York Death Index 1949 – 1965, 1910 U.S. Federal Census, 1915 New York State Census, 1920 U.S. Federal Census, 1925 New York State Census, 1930 U.S. Federal Census, 1940 U.S. Federal Census, U.S. Passport Applications 1795 – 1925, New York Passenger Lists 1820 – 1957, Cunard Records, U.S. Departing Passenger and Crew Lists 1914 – 1966, Mixed Claims Commission Docket No. 435, U.S. World War I Draft Registration Cards 1917 – 1918, U.S. World War II Draft Registration Cards 1942, Cork Examiner, Brighton Gazette, New York Times, PRO 22/71, UniLiv D92/2/217, Graham Maddocks, Geoff Whitfield, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly.