In 1961, my grandmother took me, at age 13, on a summer tour of Europe after a crossing from New York to Gibraltar on the S.S. United States. The muster drill still stands out in my memory. Our group lined up on deck, behind our crew leader, in neat rows and columns. We wore our old-style (soft, baggy, orange) life jackets. A senior officer came by, trailed by a crew member furiously making marks on a clipboard. The officer walked around our group, carefully observing and murmuring notes to the crew member, then said "well done" and dismissed us.
For what it's worth, I also remember dinner in the first-class dining room. The maitre came to each table, trailed by a crew member with a large silver bowl on a trolley. The maitre dipped into the bowl with a scoop chained around his neck and dumped a substantial scoop of caviar onto your appetizer plate. At age 13, I gave mine to my grandmother.
I also shot clay pigeons off the stern of the ship. Around the first-class pool, a steward assigned a lounge chair to each requesting passenger for the entirety of the crossing (it was June).