Derby Woman & Brother Survived the Titanic!

With the approach of the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic, it's no surprise to learn that there were passengers from Derby on board that night -and they both survived.  Mrs. Paul Schabert and her brother Philip E. Mock were living in Derby through their involvement with the Sterling Piano. The Philip in her comments below was her brother Philipp Mock who also survived the sinking. They had purchased their first class tickets from a White Star Line Agency in Nice and boarded the ill fated ship in Cherbourg with 272 others on April 10. Mrs. Schabert's husband, Paul, was in California when the ship went down, but he came back to meet Emma in New York after her return from the rescue.

You can read tseveral accounts of the sinking from Mrs. Schabert below, but they both ended up in Lifeboat # 11 which had a capacity of 65, but took in a total of 70. They were eventually rescued by the Carpathia,

Mary Bisaccia of the Derby Public Library has a fuller account in the Library's March/April newsletter, and they have a special program coming up on Tuesday at 6:30 about the event.

Rob Novak also wrote an interesting article for the derby Historical Society which includes an account from Mr. Mock following his return to Derby on April 23. Read it here.


  Mrs. Paul Schabert, of Derby, Conn., said:

  "I was in stateroom No. 28, on the port side and was asleep at the time of the collision. The shock awoke me, but there seemed no excitement and people were walking about in orderly fashion, many stateroom doors being opened simply to permit inquiries as to the cause of the shock.

  "Then in the midst of all this quiet, came the startling cry of 'Ladies first,' and it was the first intimation of danger that we had. Many of us, however, went back to our staterooms to dress, and did it in rather leisurely fashion, until the order was passed that women must leave their husbands, brothers and other male relations and take to the lifeboats.

  "By this time the ship's orchestra had been ordered to play as the lifeboats were sent away from the Titanic's side. I refused to leave unless my brother also was permitted to go with me.

  "I stood aside and saw about a dozen boats rowed away and several times officers of the boat tried to persuade me to go along. When the next to the last lifeboat was ready to leave, there was not another woman in sight and the word was passed that I might take Philip with me.

  "The Titanic sank about 1.50 o'clock Monday morning, and it was 6 o'clock the same morning that the Carpathia put in an appearance and we were picked up. We were probably a mile from the Titanic's grave when taken aboard the Carpathia."

This file came from Gaslight

A similar account was printed in The Music Trace Review:

"I was asleep at the time of the crash," she said, "and was awakened by the jarring and careening of
the ship. I dressed as hurriedly as possible, knowing that something awful had happened, and went
on deck. There was not so much excitement as might have been expected in the circumstances.
There was an officer on the deck calling out:
"'Lifeboats are getting ready; women first!'
"I rushed up to him and asked:
" 'Are we going down ?'
"Very firmly and coldly he replied:
" 'We are.'
"Presently there was great commotion all along the decks. Women were rushing about with no apparent notion of where they were going or what they were doing. There seemed to be a well settled arrangement that the women should first be helped to safety. They tried to pull me away from my brother, but I refused to go; I waited for some time—in fact, until there were no more women to
be seen. I then left my brother and was helped into a boat. As it happened he got into the last boat so we were both saved.
"The band was playing as we were being passed into the boats and kept playing as we drifted away.
The last I saw of Isidor Straus (a partner in Macy's Department store)  and his wife was when we were just leaving the ship. They were clasped in each other's arms. It was very evident that Mrs. Straus refused to leave her husband and that he refused to take to the boats until all the women had been taken care of."

Another account from

Letter from Mrs.Paul Schabert to her sister in law Countess Martha-Butler Clonebough on board the SS Carpathia on April 18th, 1912:

My darling sister While on the Titanic I wrote you four or five pages every day, telling you of the marvellous ship, with its wonderful restaurants, lounge and reception rooms, of our large cabin, of the fashionable well dressed people who gathered in the hall after dinner. All my impressions are at the bottom of the sea now, dearest, and I am just trying to give you a faint idea of the sinking of the mightiest craft on the ocean. Boy [her brother, Philipp Mock] and I had gone to bed early. At a little before twelve there was a mighty crash which awoke me. Boy and I had spoken of how we should be able to die as stoics if the ship went down, so when I heard the crash I immediately thought of how we might be called upon to verify our words. Boy came into my cabin and said it was an iceberg, and that it would be well to dress and go upstairs to find out particulars. I dressed warmly without a blouse, however, just wearing a knitted jacket and a scarf on my head. On deck women were walking about in evening gowns, talking the matter over. We went forward quite alone in the dark, and watched the sailors working and to see the ice on the lower decks. Suddenly a tall dark figure loomed up and said: "Get on your life preservers right away." We were quite surprised and started downstairs, where pale looking silent stewards were putting life preservers on passengers. Everyone was so quiet and collected it was marvellous. On deck the first life boats were being let down. They had to be dropped 60 feet, and it was gruesome to see them being let down. Boy and I resolved to stay together. As the boat was rapidly sinking the order soon came: "Ladies only into the life boats." So one boat after after the other left with women, who left their husbands behind. The great Mr.Ismay tried to make me enter the last boat on the upper deck when I refused and it had gone, he said: You made a great mistake not to get into that boat. I answered: it does not matter I prefer staying with my brother. Meanwhile the boat was sinking lower. Then someone said there was a boat on he lower deck and we went down to find it nearly crowded. There were just a few women left on deck so I risked it and went in, and after the other other women were put in then there was room for one man, and Boy was allowed to enter. The officers had pistols to shoot any man who entered without permission. Can you realize my joy when we were both in the lifeboat? Then we were lowered in the lifeboat jerk after jerk, and so unevenly, that we expected to be thrown into the water. But the sea was calm and we were soon rapidly rowing away from the sinking vessel, to avoid the suction. She was still brilliantly lighted and looked very mighty in the starlit night. We had been out about half an hour when the bow of the boat disappeared, the stern rose high in the air and then the tremendous craft slid rapidly into the bottomless ocean. Then we heard explosion after explosion and dreadful cries for help in the darkness. I must not forget to tell you how before we left the steamer, tremendous rockets were being sent into the the night for help. They sounded like cannons, and looked like wonderful fireworks. But it gave us a sensation of awe. All the women were really wonderful, no crying or wailing or pushing. While I was on board there was no panics. But there were men who stayed till the last and were hurled into the icy water, where they swam for hours and finally were picked up into a lifeboat. These men tell harrowing tales of the last moments of men and women. But we were drifting in the darkness without a light, wondering whether we should be rescued. If a storm came we should be lost and starve or freeze. We were in the boat with stewardesses, "Second Class" women and children. No one complained of any discomfort or the cold. Boy helped to row. We could discern the outlines of great icebergs and now and then the light of another lifeboat.

As we drifted hour after hour I thought of many things, Martha dear, of destiny, of all my sufferings of the past months which had fitted me to face death without any fear. I did not like the idea of the icy water but I knew if could not last very long. And I thought of you my darling and of many other things. And when we saw the light of a steamer and hoped we might reach her, and after 2 hours we were hauled on this steamer with ropes. There were 660 people saved and over 2100 drowned. There are countless widows on board whose husbands went down, mostly young brides. It was a mistake to separate them. If I had not insisted on staying on with Boy he would have been lost too. Even Mr.John Jacob Astor with his one hundred million dollars was pushed back from a boat and left to drown while his young bride is rescued. She expects a baby and they say she is very ill. People were so heroic. As we down to our lifeboats the orchestra was playing in the drawing room. The men who played knew they must sink any minute. That was real heroism. The steamer had been bound for Gibraltar but the captain is taking us back to New York. It must be hard on the people who were going to Italy. The ship is dreadfully crowded. We have not been out of our clothes, sleeping in the smoking room or library. Last night a young lady let me sleep on her sofa. Everyone has been so kind. Some women had come on board in their nightgowns, and ladies of the Carpathia have given up clothes and their berths to others. It is pitiful to see so many young widows sitting about weeping. I am landing without a hat. I just bought a cap of the barber and a funny looking blouse. I have saved my fur coat and sable scarf and most of my jewelry. I lost my bracelets, two little diamond pins and the collar of sapphires and diamonds you used to like. I also lost my gold purse, pencil etc. and many new things I had bought in Paris. But my pearls and best jewels are safe. Boy lost everything he owns. ..."

The following information is from

Emma Schabert Mock

Mrs Paul Schabert (Emma Mock), 35, was born in New York City on May 23, 1876 the daughter of Richard Mock (died 1905 in New York City) and his wife Emma. Her parents were natives of Germany. She had a brother Philipp Edmund Mock and both were educated in Europe.

Emma had two small children, Beatrice and Kyrill Schabert but they did not accompany their mother when she and her brother boarded the Titanic at Cherbourg on April 10, 1912.

A first class passenger, Mrs Schabert occupied cabin C-28. She and her brother were rescued in lifeboat 11.

Later, Emma married Baron Curt von Faber du Faur and lived in Italy for a number of years but in 1939 returned to America. The couple settled in New Haven, Connecticut where the Baron (known as "Professor") was a lecturer at Yale University. He was born July 5, 1890 in Stuttgart, Germany and died in New Haven on January 10, 1966. He had no children of his own and was survived by a brother and sister in Germany.

Emma's son Kyrill died in St. James, New York in 1983 at the age of 74. His son, also named Kyrill Schabert, is now a resident of Oakham, Massachusetts.

Emma von Faber du Faur (late Schebert, née Mock) died in New Haven on April 18, 1961.


Philip Edmund Mock

Mr Philipp Edmund Mock, was born in New York City on 16 August 1881 the son of German immigrants Richard and Emma Mock. Richard Mock died in New York City in 1905. Philipp studied art in Europe and attended Suwanee University. He was a member of the Kappa Sigma fraternity. He also served in the U. S. Armed Forces during the Spanish-American war.

Mr Mock was travelling home on Titanic, with his sister, Emma Schabert. Both were rescued in lifeboat 11.

Following the disaster Mock married Alvis Ehrman who was born February 3, 1881 and died in August of 1963. The couple, who were childless, resided in New York, where Mr Mock became involved in banking, as well piano manufacturing. The couple moved from New York to Florida in 1935, where Mr Mock began instructing art at The Casements in Ormond.

He had memberships in the Ormond Golf and Country Club and the Alpine Mountain Club in Switzerland.

Philipp Mock passed away on 16 June 1951, at the Halifax District Hospital, Daytona Beach, Volusia County, Florida. His body was forwarded to the Carey Hand Crematory.



 Story posted on April 3, 2012

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