Text by Till Hein
On Tuesday, 25 February 1902, the cream of society gathered at New York Harbour. US President Theodore Roosevelt and his wife Edith, wrapped in winter coats, had come in person despite the cold, wet weather. Alice Roosevelt, the President’s daughter from his first marriage, was dressed to the nines: she wore an opulent hat adorned with feathers and a fox boa as a scarf, complete with a huge muff. Her appearance alone makes it clear that she is the centre of attention this morning – as the godmother of the new schooner yacht ‘Wilhelm II’, which was built here at the Townsend & Downey shipyard.
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With the almost 50-metre-long “With the “Meteor III”, the German Emperor aims to win regattas. The fact that the contract for this went to New York is anything but a coincidence: at the start of the 20th century, shipbuilders on the east coast of North America were renowned for their fast new yachts. And Wilhelm II wanted to strengthen political relations between the German Empire and the USA. Although the Kaiser himself was unable to attend, given the diplomatic significance of this ship’s christening, he did not merely summon the German ambassador, Theodor von Holleben, from Washington to New York. As his official representative, Wilhelm II had his brother, Prince Heinrich of Prussia – a senior naval officer – travel from Germany specifically to attend the launch.
Alice Roosevelt and the Ship-Naming Ceremony
At around 10 o’clock, the guests are welcomed at the harbour with a gun salute and cheers. Prince Heinrich chats animatedly with the charming Alice Roosevelt, who is known as a scandalous figure. She loves parties, smokes in public, keeps a snake as a pet – which she has named after her aunt Emily – and has a penchant for gambling. “I can either run the country,” Theodore Roosevelt is said to have remarked, “or I can look after Alice. But I can’t do both at the same time.’ And now this young woman is to have the honour of christening the imperial yacht.
Such rituals have been known since ancient times. Wine was often poured over the planks of new boats to appease the gods. Occasionally, human sacrifices were even made. In modern times, however, blood as a form of maritime holy water fell out of fashion – in the Western world, this role fell to sparkling wine. For the ceremonial occasion on this February morning in New York Harbour, a magnum bottle of Rheingold sparkling wine has been delivered from Germany, nestled in a leather case whose lock and key are crafted from genuine silver.
‘The liquid gold of the German Rhine, served by the most German city in the country’ reads the dedication engraved on the lid of the case. ‘As a libation to the unbreakable friendship between the two nations closest to our hearts.’
Why German sparkling wine should be named ‘Meteor’
A decree issued by Wilhelm I, who was German Emperor until 1888, stipulated that all warships of the German Navy must be christened with sparkling wine from Söhnlein & Co. And the sparkling wines from this Hessian producer soon became the traditional christening sparkling wine for civilian German vessels as well, particularly the premium product Rheingold, named after an opera by Richard Wagner from the cycle ‘Der Ring des Nibelungen’.
In the German Empire around 1900, this sparkling wine was, as it were, part of the national myth: a ‘product of the German soil’, whose name evoked the ‘venerable river’ which ‘in the great era of the Empire’s rebirth was to be a German river, but not Germany’s border’, as stated in an advertising text by the sparkling wine producer, founded in 1864. The ship’s christening in New York is expected to generate massive international media coverage – and rising export sales.
At 10.40 am, Alice Roosevelt smashed the customary bottle of sparkling wine against the hull of the sailing yacht and pronounced the words of blessing in English: “In the name of the German Emperor, I christen you ‘Meteor’.” Gun salutes, music, loud cheers! Prince Heinrich congratulates the godmother and presents her with a bouquet of flowers. Then the US President’s daughter cuts the mooring ropes of the slipway with an axe. The ‘Meteor’ – flying the US flag as a symbol of international friendship – glides leisurely out of the harbour onto the River Hudson, which flows into the Atlantic between Manhattan and Staten Island.
Immediately afterwards, Prince Heinrich telegraphs Berlin to report that the event has taken place: “Just now, amidst a splendid turnout and christened by Miss Roosevelt’s own hand, the beautiful ship was launched to great enthusiasm. I offer my heartfelt congratulations!”Many newspapers published jubilant articles, which also paid tribute to the sparkling wine used. “The wine whose bottle shattered against the bow of the imperial yacht as it set off towards the sea of its destiny was produced on German soil,” reported the ‘New Yorker Staats-Zeitung’ the day after the launch, a newspaper which at that time reached a wider readership than the ‘New York Times’.
The secret swap of the christening bottle
The organising committee had been strongly urged by both lobbyists representing the German-Americans and the German ambassador to use German sparkling wine. And the German-American organising team agreed to the proposal, particularly as the Kaiser had previously acceded to a direct request from the firm Söhnlein & Co. to supply Rheingold as the celebratory sparkling wine. But what are these outrageous claims appearing in French newspapers? “The German Emperor’s yacht was christened today with a bottle of ‘White Star’ by Moët & Chandon, despite fierce competition,” writes a correspondent. “This is the greatest success ever heard of for a brand of champagne.” A bad joke? Or did the flamboyant Alice Roosevelt perhaps confuse sparkling wine with champagne? Representatives of Söhnlein & Co. refute the reports in the French newspapers. The German ambassador confirms that everything went according to plan.
Soon, however, the deception came to light: George Alexander Kessler, the enterprising importer for the French company Moët & Chandon, known in the US as the ‘Champagne King’, had bribed the shipyard operators. For around 5,000 US dollars, the sparkling wine intended for the christening was replaced with a bottle of Moët & Chandon champagne before the launch, behind the back of the unsuspecting Alice Roosevelt.
Ambassador von Holleben is forced to admit that he has been deceived – and in Germany, public sentiment is running high. Journalists are writing about a Franco-German ‘champagne war’. The honour of the Empire has been sullied by champagne! It is likely that inferiority complexes also play a part in this outrage. For despite all the nationalistic lobbying in favour of German sparkling wine, champagne remained more popular in the German Empire than domestically produced sparkling wines throughout the 19th century.
US President Roosevelt finds the scandal extremely embarrassing. As a gesture of goodwill, he promises that, in future, North American ships will only be christened with ‘Rheingold’ sparkling wine. Yet the ‘Champagne War’ continues. A multi-million lawsuit breaks out between the sparkling wine producers from France and Germany, attracting international attention for months on end.
A multi-million claim and baffling gratitude
Of all people, Champagne King Kessler – who bribed the New York shipbuilders in February 1902 – now claims to have been taken advantage of by false information provided by Söhnlein & Co.: “It is of the utmost importance to inform the public of the truth regarding this incident, as both the Moët & Chandon company and I myself have suffered serious moral and financial damage,” he writes, calling for prison sentences for anyone who continues to claim that Rheingold sparkling wine was used at the christening.
Moët & Chandon brought a claim against Söhnlein & Co. before the Royal Regional Court in Wiesbaden, seeking one million marks in damages. The sum was to be donated to a charitable organisation, and the company would generously increase the amount by a further one million marks. On 7 November 1903, the claim was dismissed. Whilst the court accepted as proven that Söhnlein & Co. had published false information in advertisements regarding the sparkling wine used, it ruled that this had been done solely out of ignorance of the bribery. The French company was ordered to pay the court costs of 40,000 marks – and the German sparkling wine firm used the legal dispute to launch advertising campaigns.
Even ten years later, Söhnlein & Co. would still be exploiting the million-mark lawsuit for marketing purposes: “At the time, attempts were made behind the scenes to pull off a deception and make the Söhnlein Rheingold sparkling wine – commissioned by the Kaiser and already on hand – vanish from the scene into the private cellar of an American involved in the affair,” according to a PR text from 1912. What is not mentioned is that Champagne King Kessler had already travelled to Berlin in March 1902 for a private audience with Grand Marshal of the Court August Graf von Eulenburg, Wilhelm II’s highest-ranking administrative official. And shortly afterwards, on 30 March 1902, von Eulenburg, on behalf of the Emperor, thanked Kessler effusively for the photographs of the christening of the ‘Meteor’ that he had brought back from the USA. He wrote in his letter that the photographs, together with a bottle of champagne donated by Moët & Chandon, had already been transferred to the Hohenzollern Museum at Monbijou Palace.
Why this gratitude? And why would the German imperial family voluntarily display mementoes of the humiliation of 25 February 1902? There is much to suggest that the background to the Champagne War was more complex than the public realised. In the end, both companies stood to gain: both Moët & Chandon and Söhnlein & Co. achieved great renown worldwide. The publicity generated by the affair was greater than even the most glamorous ship-launching ceremony – without the scandal – could ever have achieved.
Theodore Roosevelt’s promise, however – to use only German sparkling wine at such ceremonies for ships from North America in future, as compensation for the annoyances caused during the christening of the imperial sailing yacht ‘Meteor’ – proved to be short-lived: By the 1920s, alcohol had become so frowned upon in the USA that ships were being christened with Coca-Cola.
Book recommendations
Dream Yachts brings together 18 classic yachts and tells their stories through more than 350 photographs. From the ‘Manitou’ to the ‘Germania Nova’, this illustrated book focuses on significant sailing vessels, famous owners and their historical and cultural context. In doing so, it explores in greater depth the fascination with prestigious yachts and the glamorous era of classic sailing alluded to in the article.
Classical Music Festivals focuses on the major European regattas for classic yachts. Large-format photographs are accompanied by background stories on the races and the associated events on shore. Whilst *Traumyachten* portrays individual vessels, this volume shows how historic yachts are experienced under sail today and why classic yacht regattas retain their special appeal for participants and spectators alike.
Was the champagne scam a national disgrace or simply a brilliantly orchestrated publicity stunt? Please share your views with us in the comments.