Cheap and Equal

To the American Marine Association, gloomily profitless, Merchant Edward A. Filene of Boston, last week, presented some simple arithmetic:

A given transatlantic ship makes a round trip at a cost of $120,000. Filled to capacity, its round-trip revenues are:

100 passengers @ $280, average $28,000

600 passengers @ $160, average . . . . 96,000

3,500 tons freight @ $6, average 21,000

$145,0000

Now, if the space given to the "first class" passengers were reorganized on humbler lines, the ship could carry a total of 1,000 passengers. If it should then reduce its rate to $125 for round trip, its revenues would be:

1,000 passengers @ $125 $125.000

3,500 freight @ $6 21,000

$146,000

Cui bono? Only that, at present rates, the ship is not filled to the gunwales, whereas it would be so filled if remodeled according to Mr. Filene's specifications.

Mr. Filene's arithmetic was based on psychology. He looked out upon the masses of his fellow-countrymen and saw literally millions--"seven out of every ten"--panting for the salt air of the ocean, thirsting for the seasoned flavor of Europe. These millions cannot afford the $500 tickets of the S. S. Paris, Olympic or Aquitania. Second class is expensive; and they refuse to go third class, to label their baggage with an inferior tag, to promenade in the huddled after-decks.

Ship-owners, said he, must forget the class idea. Let them retain a few de luxe boats for those who have de luxe incomes. Let the other boats be operated as hotels with rooms of varying price but with all decks open to all guests; with dining rooms for those who wish to tip waiters and with cafeterias for those who wish to collect and carry their own.

Let the fare for ordinary accommodations be $100 round trip.

Let food be extra--totaling perhaps $25. This would eliminate the gluttony at present table d'hotes; and if a passenger were forced to miss a meal, his economy would console him.

Mr. Filene's suggestion seemed to forecast an event already made inevitable by the disappearance of the immigrant trade. It has the grand simplicity of the big business man, is characteristic of an age wherein ten dollars are made from the masses to every cartwheel wrung from the few.