What we know for an indisputable fact is that former Quartermaster
Robert Hichens had made miserable progress up the greasy pole of the White Star Line by 1919, seven years after the Titanic disaster.
Records held at Kew show him at that stage to be merely a Third Officer of the puny SS Magic. A bywater, rather than a comfortable sinecure.
I do know that ten years later, after being released from prison, he was still claiming to have "special information" about the RMS Titanic disaster.
The crucial thing here is that maybe he did and maybe he didn't.
It seems he was hawking it around a few British newspapers, and the newspapers didn't bite. There are a couple of possible grounds for this, mainly two - stuffy Establishment clubbiness on the part of the papers, OR the fact that Hichens was down on his luck and making demands. Newspapers don't like the look of people who give off a vibe of desperation, seem anxious for their next drink, or appear overly money-orientated. And for good reasons, many of them legal.
It is also because newspapers on this side of the world don't like giving money for info at the best of times (guess Gill was particularly lucky to enjoy the last thrash of yellow journalism in the States, a bit like Binns and Bride), but also because the money-motive undermines the cornerstone of credibility.
My guess is that the papers weren't prepared to pay for the "special information" but got a story out of it anyway by revealing it was around. And I would strongly suspect that Hichens would have been saying that the Titanic had been encountering ice long in advance of her fatal berg.
There are good grounds for believing that, and I have sent some of them to George in the past. Captain Hartorff of the Frankfurt in particular was adamant that the Titanic must have been going through ice long before her crash.
I don't believe, however, that there is any evidence at all of the White Star Line bribing Hichens. All the established evidence is against that, and in fact suggests the direct contrary - with his repeated bleatings stemming from a belief that he had been hard done by.
Finally, as a newspaper man, I can report that we are always getting people wandering in off the streets with tales. It doesn't make them true, and it doesn't make them untrue either, it just doesn't make them *reliable.*
I have interviewed plenty of nut cases and timewasters and runaround-merchants, but we do manage to have a laugh every so often. I promise you this next story actually happened:
The whereabouts of Lord Lucan is the "Jimmy Hoffa" mystery of this part of the globe. The answer to this peer's disappearance would be a newsman's Holy Grail. He vanished in 1974 after the murder of a nanny in his London home. About 1985, a colleague of mine at the Irish Independent had an interview over several hours with a well-dressed man, nicely groomed, perfectly spoken. The man carried a briefcase. Inside the smart case were reportedly exclusive photos of Lord Lucan, taken in the tropics where the man had been on holidays. The man knew what he had. So did we. It was dynamite. All that remained was to come to an arrangement.
The negotiations dragged on. Lawyers were called on all sides. Guarantees were drawn up - crises of confidence intervened - all was dragged back from the brink. Finally the man was prevailed on to open the case so that we could at least *look* at the pictures to establish their bona fides.
The entire newsroom now had its collective ear bent towards the unfolding drama. The click of that briefcase-lock I can still hear across the sudden aural desert of should have been a cacophonous jungle. *Click!* went the case.
Out came the pics. My colleague began to splutter... these must be sensational! He finally forced out the fulminating words: "But, but, but, but, but... these are pictures of YOU!!"
"Yes," answered the honoured gentleman, drawing himself up to his full height. "I am Lord Lucan." Of course, he looked more like Jimmy Hoffa.
As he was being propelled out of the lift down from the newsroom and out into the noisy street, he fought to resist and win a reprieve:
"Wait! Wait! I know where Shergar is buried!"
Hichens may have had the truth, but when you haven't got credibility it really doesn't matter. And big shipping lines, like newspapers, don't hand out the dosh to people who can easily be portrayed as embittered and vindictive.
It happened to Paula Jones... until her particular subject kept hitting on ice maidens so regularly - a serial Titanic - that the credibility problem swung the other way.