The St. Louisan that had a key role in the Titanic disaster

ST. LOUIS – It’s been 113 years since the infamous sinking of the RMS Titanic ship in the North Atlantic Ocean. Following the tragedy, one St. Louis reporter held an important role in sharing the stories recounted first-hand.

36-year-old Carlos Hurd and his wife, Katherine, were embarking on a two-month vacation to Europe aboard the S.S. Carpathia steamship on April 11, 1912, according to our partners at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. At the time, Carlos was a 14-year-veteran at the St. Louis newspaper company as a reporter.

Just a few days into the trip, what once was a holiday trip for the Hurd’s turned into a a groundbreaking story that led to his nickname as the “Titanic Man,” the Titanic Historical Society noted.

The Carpathia was notified of a distress call from the Titanic on April 15, 1912 at 12:20 a.m. as the ship had already began sinking due to hitting an iceberg. Although the Carpathia had arrived to the Titanic’s location around three hours later, they managed to rescue 705 passengers in lifeboats, before making their way back to New York City, according to Britannica.

The St. Louis Mercantile Library emphasized that Hurd was the one to break the story to the world—which came after his curiosity surrounding the ship’s standstill led to him making the discovery of what had just occurred.

Carlos and Katherine immediately stepped into reporter mode, speaking with those that were rescued to gather the stories of those who lived to tell the tale, the Post-Dispatch noted. This story became the first full account of the tragedy, but it didn’t come without some struggles along the way.

Arthur Rostron, the Carpathia’s captain, restricted Carlos from using the steamship’s wireless telegraph to send the 5,000-word story back to New York editor Charles Chapin. But that didn’t stop Carlos.

While the Titanic lifeboats were being dropped off at Pier 54 in New York, Carlos threw his story off the boat inside a cigar box to give it to Chapin, according to the New York Times. The story was out to the world on April 19, and the rest is history.

Katherine and Carlos died in 1928 and 1950 respectively, and they are both buried at the Bellefontaine Cemetery in north St. Louis.