Titan: The OceanGate disaster – the full list of victims in the submersible implosion
The Titan submersible was heading down to the wreckage of the Titanic on 18 June. It was an exclusive trip reserved for only the very richest of society, with each seat on the submersible costing $250,000. However, as the Titan approached the wreckage, it stopped communicating and seemingly vanished into thin air.
A four-day search and rescue mission took place in the Atlantic Ocean, before debris from the Titan was found nearly 4000m under the sea.
It was thought that the Titan imploded, with the submersible's carbon fibres being unable to withstand the extreme pressure of the deep sea.
Titan: The OceanGate Disaster will explore how businessman Stockton Rush and his deep-rooted desire to make extreme tourism a reality cost him, and four others, their lives.
Here is the full list on who was on the Titan submersible at the time of the disaster.
The 61-year-old businessman who co-founded and was CEO of OceanGate, a deep-sea exploration company.
Rush had faced criticism from others in the field, and his own employees about the safety of the Titan submersible. Most submersibles are made of titanium or steel – however, the hull of the Titan was made of filament-wound carbon fibre, This made the vessel lighter, and less costly, but carbon fibre was more unpredictable. The Titan was also not 'classed' by an external body or third party.
Despite warnings, Rush was confident in his contraption, which made 13 successful trips to the Titanic wreckage before the ill-fated excursion in 2023. A former employee, who was not named, told the BBC: 'Rush was very level-headed, he knew what needed to be done," he said. "He went on every sub dive, he was the pilot for every single one, and that's because he trusted the safety of the sub.'
The 77-year-old French sea explorer and Titanic expert had a deep love and interest in the 1912 Titanic shipwreck, to the extent he was nicknamed 'Mr. Titanic' by loved ones. Before his death, he was the director of underwater research for RMS Titanic, the company that owns the salvage rights to the storied shipwreck, and the author of the book In the Depths of the Titanic. He had previously made 35 dives towards the wreckage, and was once a decorated commander in chief in the French navy.
Nargeolet was reportedly aware that the Titan was a somewhat ramshackled operation. Friends told Vanity Fair that they 'all tried to stop him' from taking part in excursions on the vessel. Somewhat nobly, he reportedly told loved ones: 'Maybe it's better if I'm out there, I can help them from doing something stupid or people getting hurt.'
The 58-year-old British adventurer and businessman had a life filled with opportunity and extremes; he previously earned a pilot's license while he was studying for a degree in Cambridge, and launched the first regular business jet service to the Antarctic with his company Action Aviation.
Due to his line of work, Harding regularly visited the South Pole. He accompanied Buzz Aldrin in 2016 when the former astronaut became the oldest person to reach the South Pole, age 86.
A lifelong aviation buff, in 2019 Harding was one of a team of aviators that took the Guinness World Record for a circumnavigation of the Earth via the North and South Poles in a Gulfstream G650ER in 46 hours and 40 minutes. Two years later, Harding turned his attention to the deep blue seas; working alongside retired naval officer Victor Vescovo as he dived to the deepest point of the Mariana Trench – a staggering 36,000ft deep. This excursion landed him a second Guinness World Record for greatest distance covered at full ocean depth and greatest time spent at full ocean depth.
Harding is survived by his wife, Linda, his two sons and two stepchildren. The family lived in Dubai.
The 48-year-old British Pakistani businessman worked as a vice-chairman of the Engro Corporation and as a director of the Dawood Hercules Corporation, where he dealt with mergers and acquisitions. He gave significant amounts to charity; he was a trustee of his family's Dawood Foundation, which focused on education. Dawood also coordinated efforts to fight Covid-19 in Pakistan, as well as providing mental health support. He had a lifelong interest in the Titanic and had bought the trip on the Titan for him and his wife, Christine. The trip was then delayed due to the Covid-19 pandemic – Christine then opted to give her ticket to her son, Suleman.
Initially, the 19-year-old university student was not due to go on the trip. When his father, Shahzada, bought the tickets, he intended for just him and his wife to go, as Dawood was too young (the minimum age requirement for the submersible was 18.) However, with the trip being delayed due to the pandemic, and her son really wanting to go, Christine gave up her seat.
Dawood was reportedly 'really excited' to be heading down to the wreckage. Per the BBC, Christine revealed her son had taken a Rubik's Cube with him because he wanted to break a world record. Suleman reportedly carried the toy everywhere and wanted to solve the puzzle below the remains of the Titanic to set a world record.
Speaking of the loss, Christine said: 'We all thought 'they are just going to come up' so that shock was delayed by about 10 hours or so. There was a time … when they were supposed to be up on the surface again and when that time passed, the real shock, not shock but the worry and the not so good feelings started.'
Our thoughts are with the families and loved ones of the victims following this tragic event.
Kimberley Bond is a Multiplatform Writer for Harper's Bazaar, focusing on the arts, culture, careers and lifestyle. She previously worked as a Features Writer for Cosmopolitan UK, and has bylines at The Telegraph, The Independent and British Vogue among countless others.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Hamilton Spectator
9 hours ago
- Hamilton Spectator
Generations of Germans believe Frederick the Great brought potatoes to Germany. It's a myth
POTSDAM, Germany (AP) — Generations of Germans believe Frederick the Great brought the beloved potato to Germany. The legend is this: King Frederick II of Prussia wanted his subjects to eat potatoes, introduced to Europe in the 16th century from South America. But the people of Prussia, which later became part of a united Germany , wouldn't touch the tuber. So the 18th-century monarch resorted to trickery. He placed royal guards and soldiers along the edge of his palace garden — thus creating the illusion that potatoes were a rare and valuable crop reserved for the royal family and its aristocratic friends. But the guards withdrew from their posts each night, creating an opportunity for enterprising locals to sneak in and 'steal' the spuds. Thus began Germany's love affair with the humble Kartoffel and Frederick's rebranding as Der Kartoffelkönig, the potato king. Except it's all fake. Bogus. Phony. Falsch! as the Germans would say. And debunking it is a royal pain for Jürgen Luh, historian of the Prussian Palaces and Gardens Foundation, even when history has receipts. Archives of royal menus show the king instead had a penchant for Italian food and French wine. 'He never ate it,' Luh said. 'Any potato. Not boiled, not fried.' The unexciting truth is that the potato has been cultivated in Germany's Bavarian region since 1647, Luh said. Frederick's great-grandfather, Elector Frederick William, introduced it to the Brandenburg area of Prussia in the 1650s, but only because he liked the aesthetics of the plant's leafy greens. By the time Frederick the Great took the throne in 1740, the potato was grown in gardens throughout Prussia but not on a large scale. The king did actually issue royal decrees promoting the farming and production of potatoes, but his people ignored them. Potatoes did not become widespread in Prussia, in central and eastern Europe, until after the Napoleonic wars ended in 1815, after Frederick II's death in 1786. The guarded garden story, Luh said, is nonsense. And Frederick was more of a wannabe potato king than an actual one. But the fable has deep roots, and the myth makes money. To this day, visitors to Frederick's summer home of Sanssouci Palace in Potsdam , outside Berlin, leave raw potatoes and paper crowns on the king's grave. The palace's gift shops sell potato merchandise, from postcards and children's books to a 35-euro ($40) apron proclaiming the wearer as a Kartoffelkönig. Luh used to correct tour guides and visitors to the palace, but he's largely given up. Besides, he said, at least it means people are coming to Sanssouci and experiencing its rich history. 'The fact is that the legend has beaten the truth and the legend is just too beautiful,' he added. Whatever its roots, the potato is undeniably part of the German cultural identity . At Biohof Schöneiche, an organic farm outside Berlin, workers will harvest roughly 2,500 metric tons (5.5 million pounds) of potatoes come the annual September harvest. 'In most parts of the world, potatoes are considered a vegetable. In Germany it's a staple food,' general manager Axel Boehme said. 'People cannot imagine to have a meal without potatoes.' Regional recipes, passed down from every Oma (grandmother) to each new generation, debate the merits of a vinegar- or mayo-based Kartoffelsalat. From boiled (Salzkartoffeln) or pan-fried (Bratkartoffeln) to dumplings and pancakes (Kartoffelklösse and Kartoffelpuffer), the versatile vegetable is intertwined with the country's emotional heritage. For Anke Schoenfelder, project manager for German potato marking company Kartoffel-Marketing GmbH, her favorite tuber tradition is rooted in making Kartoffel-Karotten-Gugelhupf (potato and carrot Bundt cake) for family gatherings. 'Taste is memory, right? And when this is related to your family, this is even more part of your identity,' she said. Plus, Schoenfelder added, the potato can be used as a beauty product — the juice can be good for your skin, she says — or a household cleaner, for stubborn stains on the bottom of your oven. For now, Der Kartoffelkönig's legend lives on. As Luh was speaking to The Associated Press in front of the king's grave, two tourists placed their offerings of potatoes on the tomb. One even took a selfie as she did so. 'I always think I should go here in the evening when I have no potatoes at home,' the historian joked. 'I could take them away and have a good meal afterwards.' __ Kartoffel-Karotten-Gugelhupf (potato and carrot Bundt cake) From Kartoffel-Marketing GmbH , a German potato marking company. In true European fashion, the measurements provided refer to weight, not volume. You will need a 10-cup Bundt pan. Time: 90 minutes Serves: 12 Ingredients 9 oz (250g) high-starch potatoes (such as Russets and Maris Pipers) 9 oz (250g) carrots 1.7 fluid ounces (50 mL) carrot juice 1.7 fluid ounces (50 mL) sunflower oil 4 eggs (medium-size, room temperature) 7 oz (200g) sugar 1 packet vanilla sugar 4.5 oz (125g) almonds, ground 4.5 oz (125g) flour melted butter to grease the mold 2 tablespoons breadcrumbs Directions Wash the potatoes and boil them in salted water for about 20 to 25 minutes, until tender. Let them cool slightly, peel them, and then press them through a potato ricer into a bowl. Wash and peel the carrots and grate them finely with the potatoes, using a vegetable grater or a mandolin. Generously grease the Bundt pan with oil or butter. Coat the pan with some breadcrumbs. Preheat oven to 392°F (200°C) on the fan setting. Add carrot juice, sunflower oil, eggs, vanilla sugar, sugar, flour, baking powder and ground almonds to the mashed potatoes and grated carrots and mix with a hand mixer for about four minutes until a dough forms. Pour the potato-carrot cake batter into the prepared Bundt pan. Place the pan in the oven and bake for about 50 minutes until cooked through (if necessary, cover the pan with aluminum foil after half an hour to prevent the cake from burning). Let the cake cool completely (you can also do this on a balcony or terrace) before decorating it with icing. This is important, because otherwise the icing will seep into the cake. In a bowl, combine the powdered sugar and a little lemon juice until thickened. Pour the icing over the cooled cake and decorate with your preferred toppings like chocolate chips, for example. Let it rest a bit to allow the icing to set. Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
The Hill
9 hours ago
- The Hill
Generations of Germans believe Frederick the Great brought potatoes to Germany. It's a myth
POTSDAM, Germany (AP) — Generations of Germans believe Frederick the Great brought the beloved potato to Germany. The legend is this: King Frederick II of Prussia wanted his subjects to eat potatoes, introduced to Europe in the 16th century from South America. But the people of Prussia, which later became part of a united Germany, wouldn't touch the tuber. So the 18th-century monarch resorted to trickery. He placed royal guards and soldiers along the edge of his palace garden — thus creating the illusion that potatoes were a rare and valuable crop reserved for the royal family and its aristocratic friends. But the guards withdrew from their posts each night, creating an opportunity for enterprising locals to sneak in and 'steal' the spuds. Thus began Germany's love affair with the humble Kartoffel and Frederick's rebranding as Der Kartoffelkönig, the potato king. Except it's all fake. Bogus. Phony. Falsch! as the Germans would say. And debunking it is a royal pain for Jürgen Luh, historian of the Prussian Palaces and Gardens Foundation, even when history has receipts. Archives of royal menus show the king instead had a penchant for Italian food and French wine. 'He never ate it,' Luh said. 'Any potato. Not boiled, not fried.' The unexciting truth is that the potato has been cultivated in Germany's Bavarian region since 1647, Luh said. Frederick's great-grandfather, Elector Frederick William, introduced it to the Brandenburg area of Prussia in the 1650s, but only because he liked the aesthetics of the plant's leafy greens. By the time Frederick the Great took the throne in 1740, the potato was grown in gardens throughout Prussia but not on a large scale. The king did actually issue royal decrees promoting the farming and production of potatoes, but his people ignored them. Potatoes did not become widespread in Prussia, in central and eastern Europe, until after the Napoleonic wars ended in 1815, after Frederick II's death in 1786. The guarded garden story, Luh said, is nonsense. And Frederick was more of a wannabe potato king than an actual one. But the fable has deep roots, and the myth makes money. To this day, visitors to Frederick's summer home of Sanssouci Palace in Potsdam, outside Berlin, leave raw potatoes and paper crowns on the king's grave. The palace's gift shops sell potato merchandise, from postcards and children's books to a 35-euro ($40) apron proclaiming the wearer as a Kartoffelkönig. Luh used to correct tour guides and visitors to the palace, but he's largely given up. Besides, he said, at least it means people are coming to Sanssouci and experiencing its rich history. 'The fact is that the legend has beaten the truth and the legend is just too beautiful,' he added. Whatever its roots, the potato is undeniably part of the German cultural identity. At Biohof Schöneiche, an organic farm outside Berlin, workers will harvest roughly 2,500 metric tons (5.5 million pounds) of potatoes come the annual September harvest. 'In most parts of the world, potatoes are considered a vegetable. In Germany it's a staple food,' general manager Axel Boehme said. 'People cannot imagine to have a meal without potatoes.' Regional recipes, passed down from every Oma (grandmother) to each new generation, debate the merits of a vinegar- or mayo-based Kartoffelsalat. From boiled (Salzkartoffeln) or pan-fried (Bratkartoffeln) to dumplings and pancakes (Kartoffelklösse and Kartoffelpuffer), the versatile vegetable is intertwined with the country's emotional heritage. For Anke Schoenfelder, project manager for German potato marking company Kartoffel-Marketing GmbH, her favorite tuber tradition is rooted in making Kartoffel-Karotten-Gugelhupf (potato and carrot Bundt cake) for family gatherings. 'Taste is memory, right? And when this is related to your family, this is even more part of your identity,' she said. Plus, Schoenfelder added, the potato can be used as a beauty product — the juice can be good for your skin, she says — or a household cleaner, for stubborn stains on the bottom of your oven. For now, Der Kartoffelkönig's legend lives on. As Luh was speaking to The Associated Press in front of the king's grave, two tourists placed their offerings of potatoes on the tomb. One even took a selfie as she did so. 'I always think I should go here in the evening when I have no potatoes at home,' the historian joked. 'I could take them away and have a good meal afterwards.' __ From Kartoffel-Marketing GmbH, a German potato marking company. In true European fashion, the measurements provided refer to weight, not volume. You will need a 10-cup Bundt pan. Time: 90 minutes Serves: 12 9 oz (250g) high-starch potatoes (such as Russets and Maris Pipers) 9 oz (250g) carrots 1.7 fluid ounces (50 mL) carrot juice 1.7 fluid ounces (50 mL) sunflower oil 4 eggs (medium-size, room temperature) 7 oz (200g) sugar 1 packet vanilla sugar 4.5 oz (125g) almonds, ground 4.5 oz (125g) flour melted butter to grease the mold 2 tablespoons breadcrumbs Wash the potatoes and boil them in salted water for about 20 to 25 minutes, until tender. Let them cool slightly, peel them, and then press them through a potato ricer into a bowl. Wash and peel the carrots and grate them finely with the potatoes, using a vegetable grater or a mandolin. Generously grease the Bundt pan with oil or butter. Coat the pan with some breadcrumbs. Preheat oven to 392°F (200°C) on the fan setting. Add carrot juice, sunflower oil, eggs, vanilla sugar, sugar, flour, baking powder and ground almonds to the mashed potatoes and grated carrots and mix with a hand mixer for about four minutes until a dough forms. Pour the potato-carrot cake batter into the prepared Bundt pan. Place the pan in the oven and bake for about 50 minutes until cooked through (if necessary, cover the pan with aluminum foil after half an hour to prevent the cake from burning). Let the cake cool completely (you can also do this on a balcony or terrace) before decorating it with icing. This is important, because otherwise the icing will seep into the cake. In a bowl, combine the powdered sugar and a little lemon juice until thickened. Pour the icing over the cooled cake and decorate with your preferred toppings like chocolate chips, for example. Let it rest a bit to allow the icing to set.
San Francisco Chronicle
9 hours ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
Generations of Germans believe Frederick the Great brought potatoes to Germany. It's a myth
POTSDAM, Germany (AP) — Generations of Germans believe Frederick the Great brought the beloved potato to Germany. The legend is this: King Frederick II of Prussia wanted his subjects to eat potatoes, introduced to Europe in the 16th century from South America. But the people of Prussia, which later became part of a united Germany, wouldn't touch the tuber. So the 18th-century monarch resorted to trickery. He placed royal guards and soldiers along the edge of his palace garden — thus creating the illusion that potatoes were a rare and valuable crop reserved for the royal family and its aristocratic friends. But the guards withdrew from their posts each night, creating an opportunity for enterprising locals to sneak in and 'steal' the spuds. Thus began Germany's love affair with the humble Kartoffel and Frederick's rebranding as Der Kartoffelkönig, the potato king. Except it's all fake. Bogus. Phony. Falsch! as the Germans would say. And debunking it is a royal pain for Jürgen Luh, historian of the Prussian Palaces and Gardens Foundation, even when history has receipts. Archives of royal menus show the king instead had a penchant for Italian food and French wine. 'He never ate it,' Luh said. 'Any potato. Not boiled, not fried.' The unexciting truth is that the potato has been cultivated in Germany's Bavarian region since 1647, Luh said. Frederick's great-grandfather, Elector Frederick William, introduced it to the Brandenburg area of Prussia in the 1650s, but only because he liked the aesthetics of the plant's leafy greens. By the time Frederick the Great took the throne in 1740, the potato was grown in gardens throughout Prussia but not on a large scale. The king did actually issue royal decrees promoting the farming and production of potatoes, but his people ignored them. Potatoes did not become widespread in Prussia, in central and eastern Europe, until after the Napoleonic wars ended in 1815, after Frederick II's death in 1786. The guarded garden story, Luh said, is nonsense. And Frederick was more of a wannabe potato king than an actual one. But the fable has deep roots, and the myth makes money. To this day, visitors to Frederick's summer home of Sanssouci Palace in Potsdam, outside Berlin, leave raw potatoes and paper crowns on the king's grave. The palace's gift shops sell potato merchandise, from postcards and children's books to a 35-euro ($40) apron proclaiming the wearer as a Kartoffelkönig. Luh used to correct tour guides and visitors to the palace, but he's largely given up. Besides, he said, at least it means people are coming to Sanssouci and experiencing its rich history. 'The fact is that the legend has beaten the truth and the legend is just too beautiful,' he added. Whatever its roots, the potato is undeniably part of the German cultural identity. At Biohof Schöneiche, an organic farm outside Berlin, workers will harvest roughly 2,500 metric tons (5.5 million pounds) of potatoes come the annual September harvest. 'In most parts of the world, potatoes are considered a vegetable. In Germany it's a staple food,' general manager Axel Boehme said. 'People cannot imagine to have a meal without potatoes.' Regional recipes, passed down from every Oma (grandmother) to each new generation, debate the merits of a vinegar- or mayo-based Kartoffelsalat. From boiled (Salzkartoffeln) or pan-fried (Bratkartoffeln) to dumplings and pancakes (Kartoffelklösse and Kartoffelpuffer), the versatile vegetable is intertwined with the country's emotional heritage. For Anke Schoenfelder, project manager for German potato marking company Kartoffel-Marketing GmbH, her favorite tuber tradition is rooted in making Kartoffel-Karotten-Gugelhupf (potato and carrot Bundt cake) for family gatherings. 'Taste is memory, right? And when this is related to your family, this is even more part of your identity,' she said. Plus, Schoenfelder added, the potato can be used as a beauty product — the juice can be good for your skin, she says — or a household cleaner, for stubborn stains on the bottom of your oven. For now, Der Kartoffelkönig's legend lives on. As Luh was speaking to The Associated Press in front of the king's grave, two tourists placed their offerings of potatoes on the tomb. One even took a selfie as she did so. 'I always think I should go here in the evening when I have no potatoes at home,' the historian joked. 'I could take them away and have a good meal afterwards.' __ Kartoffel-Karotten-Gugelhupf (potato and carrot Bundt cake) From Kartoffel-Marketing GmbH, a German potato marking company. In true European fashion, the measurements provided refer to weight, not volume. You will need a 10-cup Bundt pan. Time: 90 minutes Serves: 12 Ingredients 9 oz (250g) high-starch potatoes (such as Russets and Maris Pipers) 9 oz (250g) carrots 1.7 fluid ounces (50 mL) carrot juice 1.7 fluid ounces (50 mL) sunflower oil 4 eggs (medium-size, room temperature) 7 oz (200g) sugar 1 packet vanilla sugar 4.5 oz (125g) almonds, ground 4.5 oz (125g) flour melted butter to grease the mold 2 tablespoons breadcrumbs Directions Wash the potatoes and boil them in salted water for about 20 to 25 minutes, until tender. Let them cool slightly, peel them, and then press them through a potato ricer into a bowl. Wash and peel the carrots and grate them finely with the potatoes, using a vegetable grater or a mandolin. Generously grease the Bundt pan with oil or butter. Coat the pan with some breadcrumbs. Preheat oven to 392°F (200°C) on the fan setting. Add carrot juice, sunflower oil, eggs, vanilla sugar, sugar, flour, baking powder and ground almonds to the mashed potatoes and grated carrots and mix with a hand mixer for about four minutes until a dough forms. Pour the potato-carrot cake batter into the prepared Bundt pan. Place the pan in the oven and bake for about 50 minutes until cooked through (if necessary, cover the pan with aluminum foil after half an hour to prevent the cake from burning). Let the cake cool completely (you can also do this on a balcony or terrace) before decorating it with icing. This is important, because otherwise the icing will seep into the cake. In a bowl, combine the powdered sugar and a little lemon juice until thickened. Pour the icing over the cooled cake and decorate with your preferred toppings like chocolate chips, for example. Let it rest a bit to allow the icing to set.
