contracted only for the maiden voyage. These men from comparatively modest homes would be mingling with some of the world’s richest and most powerful people in an ambience of unparalleled luxury on a voyage that would make history.
The Blacks were to emerge as villains of the piece. The tragedy exposed their unfair business practices and lack of consideration for their employees’ welfare. The ire of the Amalgamated Musicians’ Union had already been aroused when the Blacks became sole agents for all the major shipping lines, and the fate of the Titanic players simply gave the union more ammunition. They also revealed themselves as either heartless, thoughtless, or both, by asking one father to pay up for his son’s outstanding tailoring bill. The garment that had been altered was the uniform he died in.
Although the Blacks argued for their innocence in the press, they couldn’t shed the reputation of callousness. Three of the bereaved fathers took them to court, and the AMU continued to campaign against them, eventually advising musicians either to stay with the AMU and not work for the Blacks or to work for the Blacks and relinquish union membership. The brothers, in turn, tried to make amends by raising money for the dependents of the Titanic ’s band and making a show of their good deeds.
Whether it was because of their notoriety, or simply because agents weren’t part of polite society, the Black brothers lived and died almost without a trace. To Titanic historians they have simply been C. W. & F. N. Black, the name under which they traded. No one has ever fleshed them out or discovered a photograph of them. When they died within a year of each other in the 1940s, their passing wasn’t even noted in their local newspaper. Their archives, which would have been of such value to researchers, must have been destroyed when the company ceased trading during World War II. They were never interviewed about their crucial role in the Titanic story.
Castle Street had always been close to Liverpool’s center of power. In medieval times it was the street that connected the castle with the market and the river with the Pool, an area where several waterways converged into a docking area for ships. In the late eighteenth century the present town hall was built at one end. In the first decade of the twentieth century, when the Blacks began renting their offices, it was within walking distance of the headquarters of two of the greatest shipping lines of the era: Cunard on Water Street and White Star on James Street. It was also close to the newly completed landmark Royal Liver Building at the Pierhead. All of the buildings in the area announced confidence, wealth, and dominion. On the ground floor of number 14 was the Bank of British West Africa and the vice consular office for Salvador.
Albion House, also known as the White Star Building, Liverpool.
Nineteenth-century British prime minister Benjamin Disraeli once described Liverpool as the Empire’s second city. Internationally it was beaten only by London in terms of the value of its sea trade. New York was third. In 1908 almost 26,000 vessels used the 418 acres of docks that spread along the Mersey. A significant proportion of its population— from the owners of boardinghouses and makers of rope to dockworkers, bar stewards, boatbuilders, and travel agents—were dependent on sea traffic. In 1906 the port listed 1,305 steamships and 914 sailing ships in its register.
Castle Street, Liverpool, looking toward Town Hall. The Blacks’ former office was in the building on the left.
While the port of London handled more cargo, Liverpool dealt with more passengers. Since 1825 almost 56 percent of all people leaving Britain had embarked at Liverpool, and a surge in numbers after 1905 pushed its share to over 60 percent. The bonanza came from a wave of emigration that was only halted by the outbreak of World War I.
Most of these passengers were traveling to either