The Titanic: The True and Tragic Story and the Movie Remembered

The following is an excerpt from LIFE’s special issue Titanic: The Tragedy That Shook the World, available at newsstands and online:

Twenty-three years ago, at the 70th Academy Awards in Los Angeles, Sean Connery stood in his tuxedo before a microphone, the evening’s final note card in his hand, and read the news: The award for Best Picture “goes to Titanic.” That it was the movie’s record-tying 11th Oscar win—after a record-tying 14 nominations—and that it came before a television audience of 57.3 million, still the largest to watch an Academy Awards, seemed apt. From start to finish, this movie didn’t simply go big. It went huge. Colossal. Titanic all the way.

Director James Cameron (Best Director James Cameron, that is) spent $200 million to make Titanic, almost twice the original budget and the most expensive movie of the 20th century. He dressed 1,000 extras in period costume. He oversaw 90,000 gallons of water being flooded into the set during the film’s climactic scene, and he delivered Titanic at a longest-movie-of-the-year running time of three hours and 15 minutes.

And after those extravagances came these: Titanic spent 15 straight weeks as the number one movie in the country (another record), and it was still showing in first-run theaters nearly 10 months after it opened. Paramount had to send theaters replacement reels because the originals wore out. Throw in the take from the movie’s occasional rereleases, among them a 2017 limited run celebrating its 20th anniversary, and Titanic has brought in box-office receipts of $2.2 billion.

It’s a stunningly beautiful film, with startling effects. Cinematography, Production Design and Visual Effects were among its Oscar haul. More germane is that Titanic has at its heart an exquisitely drawn love story that’s as Hollywood and as Shakespearean as can be, one that slips bounds of class and circumstance as defiantly and heroically as a Capulet and a Montague trysting at the balcony by moonlight. Jack the penniless, romantic third-class passenger. Rose the betrothed-to-an-ogre aristocrat in diamonds. They spit together. They dance. He sketches her in the nude. Together, they rise. Who among us does not cherish the rare moments—lit by love or accomplishment—when we feel as if we are standing on the bow of our own ship, going somewhere, a king of the world?

Titanic touches on a fundamental question: How would you act and what would you do if you had just a short time to live? The boat takes a while to sink, and as it does the violinists famously play on, the bridge officer puts a gun to his head, Rose’s odious fiancé weasels onto a lifeboat meant for women and children, and an old couple spoons in their cabin bed. Then there’s Rose herself who, while being lowered to safety by lifeboat leaps back onto the sinking ship. Anything for a few more minutes with Jack. She’s nuts. She met the guy three days before. But we believe her. It’s a moment even the greatest storytellers might wait a lifetime to achieve.

There’s another crucial slant to Titanic: the fact that the audience, godlike, knows from the start that disaster is nigh. This puts all the actions and reactions of the characters into a kind of final, judgmental light, and it ties straight to the movie’s real power. From the opening sepia montage at the departing dock, to the genuine shots of the real, rusted hull 12,500 feet deep in the Atlantic, to the appropriation of language from post-wreck inquiry transcripts into movie dialogue, lies the understanding that the story is, at essence, true. Whatever license was taken to form Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jack Dawson, Kate Winslet’s Rose Dewitt Bukater and Billy Zane’s Caledon Hockley, such characters and others like them surely existed and were on that boat.

At the Oscars ceremony in 1998, Cameron, who also wrote, coedited and coproduced the film, asked for a moment of silence for the 1,503 people who went down with the ship—acknowledging his debt to the human stories that were set against the audacity of the 52,000-ton luxury liner itself. Man in his hubris, flying too close to the sun. More than a century later, the voyage of the RMS Titanic remains one of history’s most astounding events, filled with intrigue, moxie and false steps, with majesty, with tragedy and with life. It’s this true story that spurred Titanic to such success, and this true story that unfolds so poignantly and dramatically in our remembrance of a moment that continues to captivate.

Below are images from LIFE’s special issue Titanic: The Tragedy That Shook the World, available at newsstands and online:

© Ken Marschall

The Olympic and the Titanic, both vessels of the White Star Line, under construction in Harland and Wolff’s shipyard, Belfast, Northern Ireland, 1909-1911.

Universal History Archive/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

The first class lounge of the Titanic.

Universal Images Group/Getty Images

The Titanic only had enough lifeboats to hold a third of the ship’s passengers and crew.

Hulton Archive/Getty Images

The Titanic sailed away from her final landfall in Ireland on her maiden voyage across the Atlantic to New York in April 1912.

© Ralph White/Corbis/Getty Images

The April 16, 1912 front page of the New York Times announced the sinking of the Titanic.

Bettmann Archive/Getty Images

This image from 1912 showed the exact latitude and longitude where the Titanic sank.

Hulton Archive/Getty Images

This early illustration depicted the sinking of the Titanic.

Universal Images Group/Getty Images

Scouts raised money in Stratford-on Avon, England after the sinking of the Titanic.

Bettmann Archive/Getty Images

Dining plates, shown here as they were found, were among the artifacts recovered from the sunken Titanic.

Nils Jorgensen/Rex/Shutterstock

Disney Theme Parks: The History and the Magic

The following is from LIFE’s special tribute issue to the Disney theme parks, available on newsstands and online:

Walt Disney spent his life dreaming impossible dreams—and usually realizing them. In 1928, he created the first animated short with synchronized sound (Steamboat Willie), which turned Mickey Mouse into an international superstar. Less than a decade later, Disney released the first full-length animated feature (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs), which became the most successful American film up to that point. And in the early 1950s, Walt dreamed the most impossible dream of them all: an amusement park to end all amusement parks. He would call it Disneyland.

Though it’s hard to believe now, the park’s success was anything but certain. In fact, Roy Disney—Walt’s brother and financial partner—thought it was yet another one of “Walt’s screwy ideas,” and bankers refused to lend the company a dime. “When he started Disneyland, he didn’t have a friend in the world,” one colleague said. But Walt persevered, as always. “Sometimes I wonder if ‘common sense’ isn’t another way of saying ‘fear,’” he said. “And fear too often spells failure.”

In the face of enormous obstacles (record rainfall, labor strikes), a ballooning budget (total price tag: $17 million), and a disastrous opening day (women’s high heels sunk in Main Street’s still-drying asphalt), Disney prevailed. His “screwy idea” quickly became an enormous hit—and eventually changed popular culture forever.

Of course, he kept dreaming, making plans for an even more ambitious park (Walt Disney World) that would include a place that he felt would transform the country’s future (EPCOT). Sadly, he didn’t live to see these become a reality, but the spread of Disney parks throughout the world (Tokyo, Paris, and Shanghai among them) and the astronomical ongoing success of the company he founded prove beyond a doubt that Disney’s “impossible” dream endures.

Here are some images from LIFE’s special issue Inside the Disney Theme Parks: The Happiest Places on Earth

Cover image by imageBROKER/REX/Shutterstock

Walt Disney crossed the drawbridge that serves as the entrance to Sleeping Beauty Castle in the heart of Disneyland, circa 1955. The original site of the castle proved to be overrun with feral cats, which Disney took pains to save.

David F. Smith/AP/REX/Shutterstock

Disney in his Burbank office with one of his most important artists, John Hench, discussing the map of Disneyland that Walt called “the $5 million layout.” The most important element was the castle, Walt told artist Herb Ryman, who made the first maps of Disneyland. “Make it tall enough to be seen from all around the park,” he said.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/LIFE/The Picture Collection

Disney discussed his new park with some imagineers in Los Angeles in 1954. “Imagineers” is the term Disney used to refer to the film studio creatives who brought their cinematic sensibility to the theme park, which was the first park to tell a story, like a movie.

Earl Theisen/Archive Photos/Getty

Artist William J. Koch touched up a model of the Los Angeles basin, part of “The World Beneath Us,” a show featured in Disneyland.

Bettmann/Getty

Children running through the gate of Sleeping Beauty Castle, the centerpiece of Disneyland. “I don’t want the public to see the world they live in while they’re in the park,” Disney said. “I want them to fee they’re in another world.”

Allan Grant/LIFE/The Picture Collection

A family visited the park during opening week, 1955.

Marc Wanamaker/Bison Archives

Disneyland’s opening day parade, 1955.

USC Libraries/Corbis/Getty

Walt Disney during a telecast of the official opening of the playground. The premiere was televised nationally.

Bettmann/Getty

Disney employees climbed the Matterhorn, a 1:100-scale model of the Swiss mountain, which opened as an attraction in 1959.

Ralph Crane/LIFE/The Picture Collection

In 1971 the entire Walt Disney World staff posed for a group portrait in front of Cinderella’s castle prior to the grand opening of the amusement park.

Yale Joel/LIFE/The Picture Collection

Finding the Elusive J.D. Salinger, and More: A Photographer’s Tales

In 1961 LIFE photographer Ted Russell received the assignment: bring back a picture of J.D. Salinger, the reclusive author of Catcher in the Rye.

At that point Salinger hadn’t made any public appearances for years, and he had even asked his publisher to remove his author’s photo from Catcher in the Rye so he wouldn’t be recognized. It was clear that any new photos of the iconic figure would be a rarity. LIFE reporters had located Salinger’s fortress of seclusion—a home in Cornish, New Hampshire that was surrounded by an eight-foot fence. Russell’s plan was to park at least a half mile up the road, walk the rest of the way, hide in the bushes with a telephoto lens, and wait for Salinger to show himself. It was winter, and Russell had a cold. The first two days, Russell endured drizzly weather without even a glimpse of the author.  But on the third day, Salinger opened the home’s gate to let out his dog, and then briefly stepped outside himself. Russell took aim, hoping that Salinger’s dog wouldn’t flush him out. “I got off three or four frames,” he says, before the author disappeared and Russell left with his photographic treasure.

While hiding in bushes was not the norm for Russell, it could serve as a metaphor for his basic approach to photography, which was to make himself invisible to his subjects. Once in their presence, he would talk to them as little as possible, in the hope that they would forget he was there and act naturally. “My style of photography is to keep my mouth shut and my eyes open,” says Russell, 91.

That technique served him well for a particularly memorable story—photographing young Bob Dylan in his Greenwich Village apartment. Russell first met Dylan in the fall of 1961, months before he released his self-titled debut album. Russell was tipped off by a publicist that this newcomer to the music scene was someone worth paying attention to. Russell saw Dylan perform downtown and the next day pitched him a story. “I explained to him that I wanted to do a story on the struggles of an up and coming folk singer in New York,” he says. Dylan agreed, but after their shoots Russell, a freelancer, couldn’t find any takers for the story. He recalls playing Dylan’s music for editors at the Saturday Evening Post in a formal conference room around a big oak table and them losing interest after one song. He was only able to make use of the photos after Dylan had been widely recognized as a revolutionary songwriter and the voice of a generation. In 2015 Russell published a book of his photos of Dylan’s early years. When people ask him to describe what the future Nobel Prize winner was like as a young man, the photographer tells people “I haven’t the vaguest idea,” owing to his fly-on-the-wall approach. “There was no verbal interaction between us, just the bare minimum,” Russell says. “At some point he must have given me the address of his apartment.”

Working in the 1960s, Russell captured many images relating to race and to civil rights. He photographed Malcolm X giving a fiery speech in Harlem, with the middle-aged women in the audience reacting as if they were bobby soxers at a concert. He shot a star-studded jazz party fundraiser for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. at the home of baseball great Jackie Robinson, with performances by Dizzy Gillespie, Dave Brubeck and others. Russell was in Mississippi for the trial of the murder of three civil rights workers in 1964, capturing images of African-American prayer meetings and of a smiling Sheriff Lawrence Rainey after federal charges against him had been dismissed.

Russell served as both photographer and reporter for a memorable story in LIFE’s Dec. 8, 1961 issue titled “From Washington to New York, Four Lanes to Trouble.” The story documented how the segregated businesses on U.S Route 40 would refuse service to African diplomats headed from the United Nations to Washington D.C., and Russell captured quotes that were startlingly brazen. When Russell asked a waitress why she denied service to Malick Sow, the ambassador from Chad, she shamelessly explained, “He looked like just an ordinary run-of-the-mill n***** to me. I couldn’t tell he was an ambassador.”

When talking about his most memorable images, Russell mentions “one of the saddest things I ever photographed.” On the morning of Sept. 15, 1958 in northern New Jersey a commuter train derailed and went off a bridge, plunging into Newark Bay and killing 48 people. He captured the moment when the train was lifted from the waters, and later went to the funeral home and photographed the wife and mother of the train’s engineer mourning together.

“The poignant moments, that’s what I set out to capture,” Russell says. “They’re the ones that stay with me.”

Author J. D. Salinger outside his home in Cornish, 1961.

Ted Russell

Author J. D. Salinger’s dog outside his home in Cornish, N.H., 1961.

Ted Russell

Bob Dylan in his Greenwich Village apartment.

Ted Russell

Bob Dylan in his Greenwich Village apartment.

Ted Russell

Bob Dylan in his Greenwich Village apartment.

Ted Russell

Malcolm X delivered a fiery speech to a crowd in Harlem, 1963.

Ted Russell

Listeners reacted to a speech by Malcolm X in Harlem, New York City, 1963.

Ted Russell

Baseball star Jackie Robinson and his wife, Rachel, hosted a jazz party to raise money to support the work of Martin Luther King Jr. in 1963.

Ted Russell

Dizzy Gillespie performed at a jazz party hosted by baseball great Jackie Robinson to raise money to support the work of Martin Luther King, 1963.

Ted Russell

Dave Brubeck performed at the home of Jackie Robinson in Stamford, Ct., for a fundraiser to support the work of Martin Luther King Jr. in 1963.

Ted Russell

Adam Malick Sow, Chad’s ambassador to the U.N., was among those refused service at segregated businesses on the road from New York to Washington D.C.

Ted Russell

Mrs. Leroy Merritt was unapologetic in explaining why she refused to serve an African diplomat traveling from New York to Washington, D.C.

Ted Russell

A group of women held a prayer meeting for the slaying of three civil rights workers in Mississippi.

Ted Russell

Sheriff Lawrence A. Rainey (second from left) left the federal building after his case regarding the three slain civil rights workers was dropped.

Ted Russell

A commuter train that derailed and went off a bridge was pulled from the waters of Newark Bay in New Jersey; 48 passengers and crew died in the accident, 1958.

Ted Russell

Mourning together were the mother and wife of a train engineer who died when his train plunged into Newark Bay in New Jersey, killing 48.

Ted Russell

Union leader Jimmy Hoffa shook hands with marshals in the yard of a federal prison after being convicted for jury tampering, 1967.

Ted Russell

Commuters walked through New York’s Grand Central Station, lit only by flood lights, during a large power blackout of the northeastern United States, November 9, 1965.

Ted Russell

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Rolling Stones!

The following is adapted from LIFE’s special issue The Rolling Stones: Their Rock ‘N’ Roll Life.

Of the many things that Mick Jagger has said in public—aside, that is, from the lyrical improvisations and the onstage declarations he has made across more than 2,000 live performances over 59 years—among the more enduring is this bit of bravura from 1975: “I’d rather be dead than sing ‘Satisfaction’ when I’m 45,” he told People magazine. Jagger was 31, and he and the Rolling Stones had recorded the game changer 10 years before, in the early stages of a decade in which the band reframed the blues, the British Invasion and rock ’n’ roll itself.

The hubris of Mick’s comment, the implication that there were other worlds to be conquered and, more ominously, that the Stones might leave behind the world they had forged, struck the metaphorical chord. “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” was the band’s axe-grinding soul: Keith Richards came up with the hook and the title while drifting to sleep one night and recorded it, bare bones, on a cassette player by his bed. Jagger later wrote the lyrics poolside at a Tampa hotel while the band was on tour. Add drums. Add bass. Book it at 3:45. When the song landed in America in June of ’65, it went to No. 1 and stayed there. 

Jagger certainly was singing “Satisfaction” at age 45 (actually he’d just turned 46), snapping it out as a set-closer on the Stones’ bristling Steel Wheels tour in 1989. He was singing it onstage in 2015 as well, as a guest of Taylor Swift, who was born in 1989. Over the many years, Jagger’s “I’d rather be dead” pronouncement evolved away from arrogance and toward happy irony. In 2018, when Jagger and Richards both turned 75 and the Stones began a tour with dates in the U.K., there was “Satisfaction” on the set list—the predetermined final encore, the classic and quintessential rock ’n’ roll song.

Despite the portentous demise of guitarist Brian Jones in 1969 and the band’s historical fondness for hard drugs, despite the departure of backbone bassist Bill Wyman in the early ’90s, and despite the Keith-vs.-Mick feuds that have long dotted the landscape, time has remained improbably on the Rolling Stones’ side. Up until the moment of drummer Charlie Watts’s death, at 80, on Aug. 24, 2021, the band was not only still intact, it was still more or less doing what it had always done. Their 2016 album Blue & Lonesome, by way of example, is made up of covers of songs written by the same folks the Stones were covering 50-some years earlier—blues colossi like Willie Dixon and Howlin’ Wolf.

And of the 19 songs that anchored that 2018 tour, 17 of them were Jagger/Richards numbers composed during the 1960s and early 1970s, soul-lifters off of one monumental album after another (Beggars Banquet, Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers . . .) Another song on the list was 1981’s “Start Me Up,” which, along with “Satisfaction” and “Jumpin’ Jack Flash,” hinges upon one of the Richards riffs that have burrowed unstoppably into auditory history. Keith, in 2018, was still out there on his Fender, after the sound. Mick remained glorious: preening and plaintive. Charlie Watts still drove the action, cool and swinging on his simple kit. And there was Ronnie Wood playing the tasty guitar. Ladies and gentlemen: the Rolling Stones.

They had aged by then, to be sure, and some fans grumbled about those U.K. shows. A ticket at 250 quid? Reviewers allowed that there were some imprecisions in the gigs, the occasional softened edge. Yet by and by the crowd and the critics could not help themselves. They’d been elevated. And they were acutely aware, as the old Stones ripped through the songs that will never die—“Sugar,” “Shelter,” “Sympathy”—that even now you could see and hear straight into their beating hearts. Straight into, yes, that’s right, wait for it, the greatest rock ’n’ roll band in the world.

LIFE’s special issue The Rolling Stones: Their Rock ‘N’ Roll Life is available online:

© Stefan M. Prager/Vanit.de/Retna Ltd.

The Rolling Stones perform on the "Ed Sullivan Show" in 1965.

The Rolling Stones performed on The Ed Sullivan Show, 1965.

John Loengard The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The Rolling Stones performed on The ‘Ed Sullivan Show, 1965; from left, From left, guitarists Keith Richards and Brian Jones, singer Mick Jagger, bassist Bill Wyman, and drummer Charlie Watts.

John Loengard/Life Pictures/Getty Images

The Rolling Stones, 1966

The Rolling Stones, 1966

courtesy Art Kane Archive

The ‘Queen of Soul’ in ’90’s Fashion

Born in Memphis into a family of gospel, Aretha Franklin was destined for style. With a career over five decades long, the ‘Queen of Soul’ transcended the music industry. Franklin became an icon not just of soul itself, but of strength, women’s liberation, and the civil rights movement. She redefined the art of expression through song.

Over Franklin’s career she won seventeen Grammys, had twenty Number 1 R&B hits, and the largest number of Top 40 singles of any female performer. She also spread her music outside the studio through performing at a number of special events. This included Bill Clinton’s pre-inaugural celebration (1993), the Kennedy Center Honors (2015), and President Barack Obama’s inauguration (2018).

Aretha Franklin holds up her trophy in one hand, and her shoes in the other, as she poses at the 1983 Annual American Music Awards.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Perhaps most impressive is Franklin’s music resiliency. When her career hit a lull in the 1980s she switched record labels from Atlantic to Arista and began working with executive Clive Davis. Davis reminded her music was ‘timeless,’ and reassured her she could create new hits in her 40s and beyond. The new collaboration launched her back into stardom with her 1982 single, “Jump to It,” and the 1985 album, “Who’s Zoomin’ Who?.” Part of the album included her final Number 1 R&B single, “Freeway of Love,” which introduced her to the MTV generation. Shortly after she began a successful formula of collaborating with younger artists like Elton John and Whitney Houston.

Throughout Franklin’s remarkable moments she took to the stage, and numerous red carpet events, in equally radiant garments. From sequined sweet-heart gowns to lavish floor-length fur coats, her presence at an event was never overlooked. In celebration of the recent film release Respect starring Jennifer Hudson as Franklin, scroll through to see some of her most stylish moments leading up to, and through, the ’90’s.

Singer Aretha Franklin holding her award in one hand and her shoes in another at the 1983 American Music Awards.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Lionel Richie (R) and Aretha Franklin (L) at the 1983 American Music Awards.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin performing at Radio City Music Hall in New York, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin performing at Radio City Music Hall in New York, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin performing at Radio City Music Hall in New York, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin performing at Radio City Music Hall in New York, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Singer Aretha Franklin and record executive Clive Davis at a party in New York, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Portrait of Aretha Franklin, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Singer Aretha Franklin and record executive Clive Davis at a party in New York, 1989.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin holding her Legend Award at 32nd Annual Grammy Awards, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin holding her Legend Award at 32nd Annual Grammy Awards, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin with her Legend Award at the 32nd Annual Grammy Awards, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the Night of 100 Stars, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin with record executive Clive Davis at the Night of 100 Stars, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin wearing a red lace dress while at an event with record executive Clive Davis, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin wearing a red lace dress, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin with a signed Harley-Davidson motorcycle at the New York Cafe opening, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the Harley-Davidson New York Cafe opening, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin walking with three dogs at a red carpet event, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin holding a dog, 1990.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Willie Wilkerson (left) and Aretha Franklin (center left) with record executive Clive Davis (center right), 1992.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin wearing a cheetah print jacket, 1992.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the Essence Awards, April, 1993.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin (L) and Lena Horne (R) at the Essence Awards, 1993.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the Essence Awards, April, 1993.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin (L) and Rod Stewart (L) rehearsing for a 1993 AIDS benefit concert.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin during rehearsal for a 1993 AIDS benefit concert.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin performing at a 1993 AIDS benefit concert.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at a 1993 AIDS benefit concert.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin (center left) with Rod Stewart (L) at a 1993 AIS benefit concert.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at an event, 1995.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Artists Whitney Houston, Toni Braxton, and Aretha Franklin at an unidentified event, 1995.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin with Guns N’ Roses member, Slash, at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame opening, 1995.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin holding a camcorder at Rock and Roll Hall of Fame opening, 1995.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Singers Aretha Franklin and Al Green performing at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, 1995.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the opening of Trump tower, 1997.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the opening of Trump tower, 1997.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the opening of Trump tower, 1997.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the opening of Trump tower, 1997.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the 39th Annual Grammy Awards in 1997.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the 39th Annual Grammy Awards in 1997.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Aretha Franklin at the Musicares tribute dinner in New York, 1998.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

Singer Aretha Franklin performing at VH1 Divas Live, 1998.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

(L-R) Mariah Carey and Aretha Franklin VH1 Divas Live concert at the Beacon Theater, 1998.

(DMI/The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock)

A Ceremony of Surrender: The Formal End to a Brutal War

During the war in the Pacifc, an estimated 161,000 American soldiers lost their lives. Japan lost an estimated 2 million soldiers, along with approximately 800,000 civilians—with roughly a quarter of them dying when the U.S. dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The carnage is worth keeping in mind when viewing the neat and formal imagery of the ceremony that brought an end to the fighting in the Pacific, and thus the second World War.

“World War II formally ended at 9:08 on a Sunday morning, Sept. 2, 1945, in a knot of varicolored uniforms on the slate-gray veranda deck of the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay,” LIFE reported. “When the last signature had been affixed to Japan’s unconditional surrender, Douglas MacArthur declared with the accent of history, `These proceedings are closed.’”

MacArthur was featured on the cover of LIFE in the Sept. 17, 1945 issue, which included coverage of the surrender ceremony. The cover identified him as “Commander of Japan,” a role he assumed during the American occupation. LIFE devoted nine pages to the ceremony, and four more to a story on the ruin left by the atomic bombs, headlined “What Ended the War.”

The ceremony took 23 minutes and was broadcast on television. LIFE’s account, while largely factual, had its undercurrents of sadness—the story noted that General Douglas MacArthur‘s hand trembled as he spoke.

MacArthur had not bothered with a necktie. He read his preliminary remarks sonorously from a sheet of paper. He called on those present to rise above hatred “to that higher dignity which alone benefits the sacred purposes we are about to serve…” He stood stiffly erect, but the hands that held the paper trembled. Then, amid a silence that was almost palpable, the signing began, losers first.

The verbal punch thrown at the end of that paragraph betrayed the bitterness of the four years of fighting, truly a long and brutal journey. It’s fitting that the USS Missouri now resides in Pearl Harbor, available for tours as visitors learn the history of the war in the Pacific.

But on Sept. 2, 1945, everyone signed the documents, a big-boy version of the schoolyard scene in which fighting kids agree to shake hands and go on their way, theoretically having learned something from what their hostilities cost them.

From left to right: an unidentified aide, Gen. Douglas MacArthur, Adm. Chester Nimitz and Adm. William F. Bull Halsey arrived on deck for the signing of the official surrender of Japan aboard the USS Missouri, anchored in Tokyo Bay, Sept. 2, 1945.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A vessel carrying Japanese envoys pulled up alongside the American battleship USS Missouri for the official signing of the unconditional surrender of Japan held in Tokyo Bay, Japan on Sept. 2, 1945

John Florea/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The Japanese delegation surrendering in front of Allied officers on the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay, Japan, September 2, 1945.

John Florea/Life PicturesShutterstock

The Japanese delegation awaited the signing of the articles of surrender ending World War II aboard the USS Missouri, Sept. 2, 1945.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mamoru Shigemitsu (center), Japan’s foreign minister, stood next to his aide, Imperial Army General Yoshijiro Umezu, waiting to sign official surrender documents aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay, Sept. 2, 1945.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Allied officers and crew crowded the decks of the USS Missouri as senior Japanese delegate Mamoru Shigemitsu signed official surrender documents ending World War II, Sept. 2, 1945.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Soldiers on the USS Missouri watched the signing of the official documents ending World War II, Sept. 2, 1945.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Soldiers on the USS Missouri for the signing of official documents ending World War II, Sept. 2, 1945.

John Florea/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Soldiers aboard the USS Missouri for the signing of the official documents ending World War II, Sept. 2, 1945.

John Florea/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

American officers abd enlisted men saluted during the playing of the US National Anthem prior to the signing of the official surrender of Japan aboard USS Missouri anchored in Tokyo Bay, Sept. 2, 1945.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The Japanese delegation, including Mamoru Shigemitsu (top hat, cane) and Gen. Yoshijiro Umezu (immediately to the left of Shigemitsu), faced Gen. Douglas MacArthur (at mic) and Allied officers during the official, unconditional surrender of Japan, held aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay.

J.R. Eyerman/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Gen. Douglas MacArthur signed the official surrender of Japan, as Gen. Jonathan Wainwright and British Gen. Arthur E. Percival looked on aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay, Sept. 2, 1945.

J.R. Eyerman/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

British Adm. Bruce Fraser signed the official surrender of Japan aboard the USS Missouri, Sept. 2, 1945.

J.R. Eyerman/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Russia’s representative, Gen. Kuzma Derevyanko signed the official surrender of Japan aboard battleship USS Missouri, ending what was for Russia only a 25-day involvement in the Pacific war.

J.R. Eyerman/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The procession of signatories on the surrender documents including Canadiean Col. L. Moore Musgrave, Sept. 2, 1945.

J.R. Eyerman/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

New Zealand, represented by Vice Marshal Leonard Monk Isitt, was the last of the many signatories of the documents ending World War II during the ceremony on the battleship USS Missouri, Sept. 2, 1945.

J.R. Eyerman/Life Photos/Shutterstock

Japanese signatories looked on as U.S. General Richard Sutherland checked over official documents mistakenly signed in the wrong place by several Allied officers during the surrender of Japan aboard the USS Missouri on Sept. 2, 1945; he fixed the problem with his fountain pen.

Carl Mydans/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

More Like This

history

The Greatest Motorcycle Photo Ever

history

Keeping a Historic Secret

history

The Strangest College Class Ever

history

After the Breakthrough: Desegregation at Little Rock’s Central High

history

Jimmy Carter: A Noble Life

history

Meet Lady Wonder, the Psychic Horse Who Appeared Twice in LIFE