Stripping the Alexandria

The Montreal freighter Alexandria was swept ashore near the Scarborough bluffs east of Toronto on Tuesday, Aug. 3, 1915.  It floundered in the shallow waters and that no one died was due to the heroic efforts of local farmers and rail workers who climbed down the steep cliffs to rescue the freighter’s 22-member crew.[1] Edward Middleton, a Scarborough township farmer, was particularly credited for swimming out to the ship with a life-line that was used to bring six or seven crew men to safety.[2] Suitably, Captain William Bloomfield was the last to leave the ship.

The Maritime History of the Great Lakes website has collected a few articles on the wreck of the Alexandria.

The Alexandria as captured by photographer William James. (Fonds 1244, Item 238A, City of Toronto Archives, file created Aug. 2, 1915.)

But I’m more interested in what happened afterwards.

A Toronto Star reporter wended his way down the steep shoreline on Thursday, Aug. 5 to discover a group of men and boys salvaging material:

“The scene at the foot of Scarboro Cliffs this morning, opposite the wrecked freighter Alexandria, of the Canada Steamship Lines brought back to mind the old days of smuggling. Bare-legged men and boys with bags on their backs and life belts across their breasts, wended their way across the shore line covered with wreckage, to paths up the cliff sides, which they knew best.”[3]

The reporter continued: “A glance at the wreck, and several naked forms were seen climbing in and out of the windows. There was no regulation bathing suit used at all. The reporter was greeted with smiles as he looked ruefully at his clothes. “Are you going across?” said one bronzed and stalwart man as he pulled off his clothes. That is not my intention at present, said the reporter.” 

“All kinds of things were brought out; the dining-room bell was much sought after, and a fine-looking young athlete appeared with it, and was offered all kinds of exchange for it, but stuck manfully to his prize.” 

“To the west of the boat, it was only approachable by taking off shoes and stockings and wading for a considerable distance at the foot of the blue clay cliffs. This prevented several women and a few men from coming nearer, and the men who were in the water watched nervously the attempts of the women to get across, as the venturesome men who were at the wreck wore nothing at all except what nature had provided.”

It was a good haul. The people scavenging the ship pulled in linen, a mahogany table, and even eggs and butter. The next day the crew of scavengers was still at it, though their state of undress is less clear. The Aug. 6 article describes the group as both half-naked and as a “naked throng.” The article noted, “nearly everything of value above the water-line, with the exception of the ironwork, has been taken.” The “looting” earned a rebuke from Capt. Foote of the Canada Steamships Line: “Those who are found with contents of the vessel will be punished severely.”[4]

This scene has a number of familiar themes that delight me. First, there is a pure practicality in all of this. In a period where men still swam naked when not at a public beach and even people who went to public beaches were as likely to rent a bathing suit as own one, it’s not surprising that the enterprising salvagers simply doffed their clothes and dove into the water to do their work. It speaks to the lack of a prohibition against the naked male form when among other men. There was no shame in it. Well, nearly.

The undressed men stripping the ship of its cargo seem almost an extension of the natural environment that had wrecked the ship to begin with. In that sense we see again the naturalist link between the undressed man and the natural environment. It was this “naked throng” which stripped the ship of its wears. This notion is expanded by the continued reference to the physical presence of the men, whom the reporter describes as “bronzed and stalwart” or as “a fine-looking young athlete.” There’s a whiff of a class distinction in the reporter’s reaction to the sights around himself, but also a sense of regret as he “looked ruefully at his (own) clothes.” Wearing the clothes, the reporter couldn’t quite join in this male space that had formed along the shoreline, and he seemed to consider it only appropriate that he could not, being a reporter and above the situation.  Yet as a male there was still this sense of regret about the limits imposed by the clothing.

And, of course, there was the threatening presence of women just down the shoreline that warranted nervous glances from the men. Had the women been able to reach the wreck, presumable they would have punctured this male space and forced the donning of clothes or at least some clothes. That might be exactly what happened and why the crowd the next day was described at one point as being “half-naked.” Perhaps they had had to dress up as the number of spectators and participants of all genders increased. But on the initial day at least the women seem to have been hemmed in by their clothes; they didn’t have the same luxury of being able to strip down that the men had. And yet they were clearly still within sight of the boat and the naked men that were stripping it, which suggests that there was a question of proximity when it came to the presence of the undressed male form. How close was too close? At what distance did it become a moral hazard? What role did a particular situation play in mediating those sorts of questions?

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[1] “Farmers Brave Surf To Rescue Sailors,” The Globe, Wednesday, August 4, 1915, Page 1.

[2] “Sailors Honor Scarboro Farmer As Hero of Alexandria Wreck,” The Globe, Thursday, August 5, 1915, Page 6.

[3] “Fog Prevents Tug from Going to Alexandria,” The Toronto Daily Star, Thursday, August 5, 1915, Page 1-2.

[4] “Souvenir Hunters Strip Wrecked Ship,” The Toronto Daily Star, Friday, August 6, 1915, Page 2.