Monday, March 17, 2014

Naming the Liberty Ships - Part Seven


Note: This is part of a series of posts on odd bits of history as memorialized in the names of World War II Liberty Ships.  I am organizing them, after a fashion, around proposed artwork for imaginary "ships' insignia"  For a more complete explanation and background: Part One

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A sad bit of art to serve as the emblem of the S.S. Virginia Dare.  

In 1587 Virginia Dare became the first child born to English parents in the New World.  Her grandfather was Governor of the Roanoake Colony in present day North Carolina.  Her name seems so apt, her parents being among that hardy bunch of souls who abandoned the civilized world of London for the New Wilderness.  Of course it is just coincidence that their surname was Dare.

This was the so called "Lost Colony".  When a re-supply mission arrived it found the colonists gone, the buildings carefully dismantled and the enigmatic word CROATOAN carved into a tree trunk.

Virginia's fate will never be known.  The colonists may simply have been dispersed peacefully among the Native American tribes, or they have met a violent end.  It was natural to hope for the former, and in the generations that followed any fair skinned or light eyed Indian was felt to be a possible descendant of Virginia Dare.  

The very words "lost child" give us all a brief squirm of fear, so lets hope she had a life that was simple, but still long and decent.

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The namesake of the S.S. Peregrine White sure did.


Peregrine was the first child born to the Pilgrims in New England.  Offshore in fact, as they anchored off Cape Cod in November 1620.  The fact that William White was able to persuade his very pregnant wife Susanna to take ship for America tells me that both husbands and wives were made of much sterner stuff back then.

And they needed to be.  Peregrine - delightfully named for that far wandering bird - lived to the ripe old age of 83 but his father died in that first hard winter.

I rather enjoyed reading Peregrine's obituary:

Capt. Peregrine White of this town, Aged Eighty three years, and Eight Months; died the 20th Instant. He was vigorous and of a comly Aspect to the last; Was the Son of Mr. William White and Susanna his Wife;’ born on board the Mayflower, Capt. Jones Commander, in Cape Cod Harbour. Altho’ he was in the former part of his Life extravagant; yet was much Reform’d in his last years; and died hopefully.”

Regardless of prior extravagances, may we all be Reform'd in our last years - but not too soon - and die hopefully.


Friday, March 14, 2014

Naming the Liberty Ships - Part Six


Note: This is part of a series of posts on odd bits of history as memorialized in the names of World War II Liberty Ships.  I am organizing them, after a fashion, around proposed artwork for imaginary "ships' insignia"  For a more complete explanation and background:  Part One

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Now here is a fine starting point for a ship's insignia:


Not for any of the guys shown above.  No, this would be for the S.S. Gutzon Borglum which honored the sculptor who created Mount Rushmore.

Anyway, both Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt had Liberty ships named after them already.  Jefferson and Washington did not, but only because the Navy already had transports named for them before the Liberty ship program began.  (Oddly the S.S. George Washington got its name from the Germans.  It was built in 1908 for the North Atlantic routes.  When the U.S. got the ship after World War I they of course kept the name!)

Borglum was an interesting figure.  In some ways he was the quintessential American. A child of the frontier, a son of immigrants. He absorbed the arts and culture of Europe and brought them back to enhance American life.  He was confident and extroverted. But with the benefit of hindsight there are some aspects to him that concern later viewers, while not diminishing the greatness of his work.

He was a member of the Ku Klux Klan, a relationship that was formed during his time working on a Memorial to the Confederacy at Stone Mountain, Georgia.  And the whole concept of semi-deifying our leaders has a whiff of totalitarianism to it.  Stare for a moment at Teddy Roosevelt as shown above.... see a faint trace of Lenin there?

Speaking of Roosevelt, there was a second Liberty ship of that name: the S.S. Kermit Roosevelt. And that story is a sad one.

Theodore Roosevelt must have been the ultimate fatherly role model.  He swaggered, he charged up hills into enemy fire, he shot fierce beasts and defeated savage political foes.  He may have been our most Manly president, a man for whom obstacles existed only to be laughed at and then gleefully overcome.

It would be hard for any son to live up to that.  But they tried.  Three of the four died trying.

Quentin went first.  Only 20 years old he was a Harvard student and promising writer.  But when the U.S. entered World War I he did not hesitate.  He became that most romantic of Great War combatants, a fighter pilot.  He was shot down and killed on July 14, Bastille Day, 1918.

The oldest son, Theodore Roosevelt Jr. probably came the closest to living up to his father's greatness. His story should wait for another day, but suffice it to say that he was the only General to come ashore by sea on D-Day.  He died of a heart attack not long after.

But it is Kermit who cuts the most tragic figure.  He had done some amazing things in life.  He explored the Amazon jungles with his father, on an expedition that came close to killing the both of them.  He also fought in World War I, on the often forgotten Mesopotamian campaigns.  While there he learned Arabic.  He went on a hunting expedition with his brother Ted, seeking trophy sheep in mysterious Kashmir valleys.

But Kermit struggled with depression and with alcohol.  In the early days of World War II he used his friendship with Winston Churchill to wangle himself a British commission.  After nearly taking off on an ill advised mission to fight with the Finns against the soon-to-be-Ally Russia he apparently went on at least one commando raid into Nazi occupied Norway.

But his health was failing.  He resumed drinking and was discharged from the British Army in 1941 with a rank of captain. Returning to the States he vanished for a while, supposedly his cousin Franklin Delano had to send the FBI to find him and bring him home.

Probably to keep him out of trouble, or at least out of public trouble, he was commissioned a Major in the US Army and sent to Fort Richardson, Alaska.  His job sounds unimportant, he was an intelligence officer who helped organize local Eskimo militia units.

Alaska is a hard land.  In the winter night has no end.  Even in the summer the days stretch on and on without division one from the next.  It is not a good place to send a drinking man and a terrible one to send a depressed one.  On June 4th, 1943 Kermit Roosevelt died of a self inflicted gun shot wound. Authorities lied to his mother and called it a heart attack.

History has peculiar side channels, places where influences run from one point to another in unexpected ways.  From Teddy Roosevelt charging up San Juan Hill in 1898 we get Kermit fighting in the Middle East a generation later.  And his son, Kermit Jr. took his father's interest in the area and his grandfathers expansive world view....and organized the coup that put the Shah of Iran into power in 1953.  Sometimes you start out with "a splendid little war" and end up being The Great Satan.




Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Naming the Liberty Ships - Part Five


Note: This is part of a series of posts on odd bits of history as memorialized in the names of World War II Liberty Ships.  I am organizing them, after a fashion, around proposed artwork for imaginary "ships' insignia"  For a more complete explanation and background:  Part One

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Most Liberty ships were named after Americans.  But even in our Melting Pot society it would be difficult to run across a name as exotic as Bernardo O'Higgens!

O'Higgens was a Chilean of Spanish/Irish descent.  He played a prominent role in the struggle for independence that was precipitated by the Napoleonic conquest of Spain.  He seems to have been inclined towards wearing extravagant uniforms and to mounting military attacks more notable for their enthusiasm than for their prudence.

But in the swirling mess that was South American politics back then, some things broke the right way for Bernardo and he ended up being Supreme Director of Chile from 1817 to 1823.  Perhaps by the time the S.S. Bernardo O'Higgins was launched in September of 1943 it was just glossed over that it was commemorating a military dictator of just the sort the Allies were trying to overthrow!  As a dictator he seems to have been fairly benign by Latin standards.  His long time friend, rival and fellow revolutionary Jose Miguel Carrera was executed during his regime but O'Higgins is mostly criticized for not intervening to pardon him.  (Sending a thank you note to the Governor who had Carrera drawn and quartered was a little harsh).
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You do have to be very careful treading in politics south of the border.  So discovered Ambrose Bierce, noted American journalist, writer and satirist.  Now remembered chiefly for his highly sarcastic "Devil's Dictonary" he was during World War Two more noted for his Civil War service and writings on same. In honor of which the S.S. Ambrose Bierce took to the seas in 1943.

In 1913 Bierce seems to have gone to Mexico to get a look at what Pancho Villa was up to in his attempted Revolution.

Bierce was never heard from again; one of history's great unsolved vanishing acts.  But there were those persisting rumors....

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But not everyone had a horrid time in Mexico.  The namesake of the S.S. Joel Roberts Poinsett for instance had a very distinguished career as an American diplomat in the first half of the 19th Century. But he is remembered almost exclusively for a swell flower he saw growing south of Mexico City. Being as well an amateur botanist he sent a few home....


Monday, March 10, 2014

Naming the Liberty Ships - Part Four


Note: This is part of a series of posts on odd bits of history as memorialized in the names of World War II Liberty Ships.  I am organizing them, after a fashion, around proposed artwork for imaginary "ships' insignia"  For a more complete explanation and background:  Part One

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Today's first ship is a 1943 example, the S.S. George Gipp.  You may think it a bit unfair to propose the above image as a starting point for a ship's emblem.  After all, it is just some actor portraying Gipp. But to be fair, the movie Knute Rockne, All American came out in 1940, so this is exactly how most people would picture Gipp.  It is funny how a B movie can catch on sometimes.  Perhaps the phrase "Win just one for the Gipper" resonated with the national war effort.  Perhaps the B movie actor involved had some hard to explain charismatic qualities.

Oh, of course there was also a Liberty ship called the S.S. Knute Rockne.  Befitting his lead billing, the Rockne was laid down 12 days earlier, even though most folks not within sight of the upraised arms of "Touchdown Jesus" at Notre Dame would consider Gipp the more memorable figure.

Both men had dramatic deaths.  Rockne followed after a couple of our previous subjects, dying in an airplane crash in 1931. George Gipp of course died of pneumonia in 1920.  This was hardly unusual, it was the pre-antibiotic era and not long after the great influenza pandemic of 1919.  He is said to have encouraged Rockne to use his deathbed words to cheer on the team some day when all the breaks were going against them.  Evidently that did not happen very often to Notre Dame, as it was not until 1928 that Coach Rockne made his famous halftime speech that spurred the Fighting Irish on to victory over Army.

A couple of after notes.

Long, long after George Gipp had died there was a story that he had fathered a child shortly before his demise.  In 2007 Gipp's remains were exhumed and DNA testing was done.  Since at this late date the only thing really on the line was reputation I think we can regard the negative test results as a second posthumous "Win" for the Gipper.

Oh, and the chap who played Gipp in the movies.  Well, he did ok by himself eventually.  He even had a ship named after him.

I have mentioned earlier that rules regarding the naming of American aircraft carriers are a bit screwy. What with the longer survival times post office and the relative dearth of heroic Presidents the requirement that a man be dead before a ship bears his name has been relaxed.  So the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan was launched in 2001, when "Dutch" was still alive.  The christening was done by a former B movie actress named Nancy.  It was their 49th wedding anniversary.

On another historical side note, the naming of the Reagan caused a minor dust up.  The President at that time, Bill Clinton, was a Democrat.  It being uncommon for a President to name a major ship after a member of the opposite political party a compromise was needed.  So another carrier already under construction was renamed and became the U.S.S. Harry S. Truman!

Friday, March 7, 2014

Naming the Liberty Ships - Part Three


Note: This is part of a series of posts on odd bits of history as memorialized in the names of World War II Liberty Ships.  I am organizing them, after a fashion, around proposed artwork for imaginary "ships' insignia"  For a more complete explanation and background: Part One

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An odd starting point for this group of Liberty Ships.  The U.S.S. Avery Island was laid down October 31, 1944 and was completed on December 13th.  Originally a merchant ship she had the designation S.S. until she was taken over by the U.S. Navy in July of 1945.  Although her wartime service was uneventful the Avery Island did see a bit of "heat" post war when she was outfitted with instruments to help monitor the atomic bomb test at Bikini Atoll (whence the name for the "hot" style of swim wear of course originates!).



There appear to be a number of Liberty Ships named after islands for no discernible reasons....these include uninhabited rocks and places in the far east, neither of which would be at all likely to sponsor successful War Bond drives.  But in this case it would have been a bit more plausible for that to have happened.

Avery Island is a salt dome in coastal Louisiana.  It has been settled since the 1830s and has always had at least a small population.  It became a place of some importance during the Civil War, as salt was a necessary military supply for the Confederacy.  Considerable amounts were shipped out even after a Union naval expedition captured New Orleans.  Eventually Federal troops raided the place and shut down the clandestine trade.  Tabasco sauce was launched in 1870.

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The S.S. Gideon Welles was laid down July 19, 1942 and launched 77 days later.  The earlier Liberty ships tended to have longer build times.  The average build time eventually dropped to 42 days, and once one was built in under five days as a publicity stunt.

Gideon Welles was Secretary of the Navy in the Lincoln administration.  So indirectly he was responsible for raiding Avery Island I suppose.  He had the usual credentials and whiskers for a politician of that era, but I include him and the above photo because of a charming poem I recall from my childhood.  It was written by a harsh critic of Welles and published in a partisan newspaper:

"Retire oh Gideon to an Onion Farm, 
or some other place you can do no harm.
Ply any trade that's innocent and slow
Go wherever you fancy, only Go."

Political invective was a bit more genteel back then, but certainly still got the point across.

And to be even handed the considerably less successful Confederate Secretary of Navy was remembered by the S.S. Stephen Mallory.

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While onn the subject of pungent smells, consider the following:


George Gershwin got his own Liberty ship.  Oh, and the reference to pungent smells did not allude to his cigar, although that looks pretty nasty.

George Gershwin's contributions to American music are too numerous to address in passing.  But by 1937 his productivity had begun to decline as he was stricken by the odd combination of severe headaches and olfactory hallucinations.  He kept smelling burning rubber.  Alas, this is a sneaky but not unheard of presentation for a brain tumor, and the state of the neurosurgical art being primitive back then he died following an attempted resection on July 11, 1937.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Naming the Liberty Ships - Part Two


Note: This is part of a series of posts on odd bits of history as memorialized in the names of World War II Liberty Ships.  I am organizing them, after a fashion, around proposed artwork for imaginary "ships' insignia"  For a more complete explanation and background: Part One

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Today's Liberty Ships have an unexpected connection.  As the only real requirement for a proposed name be that it was not that of a living person, you might well imagine that a prominent individual whose death was widely noted during the time frame of Liberty Ship construction would have a high probability of being nominated.

The S.S. Carole Lombard was laid down in December of 1943, but one assumes Miss Lombard's fans put her name forward long before that.  She was the highest paid star in Hollywood in the late 1930s, acting in a string of successful movies generally in the "screwball comedy" genre.  She was also married to Clark Gable after an earlier marriage to William Powell.

Ironically although naming rights to a Liberty Ship were often linked to conducting a successful War Bond Drive it was just such an event that contributed to Lombard's death.  On January 16, 1942 she was on her way back from appearing at a Bond appeal when the DC 3 on which she was a passenger slammed into the side of a mountain near Las Vegas.

Gable was said to be devastated by the loss, and subsequently joined the U.S. Army Air Corps as his wife had previously urged him.  He attended the christening of the S.S. Carole Lombard where Irene Dunne swung the ceremonial bottle of champagne.


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Our next ship would appear to be entirely unrelated:


Frederick Banting was a Canadian medical scientist, and one of the co-discoverers of insulin as a treatment for diabetes.  He deservedly won the Nobel Prize for Medicine/Physiology for this accomplishment in 1923.  He was only 32 years old at the time, the youngest individual to date to win the Nobel for Medicine.

Banting was quite the Renaissance man.  A wounded and decorated World War I medic he resumed his medical training post war, actually specializing in orthopedics.  This did not stop him from also lecturing in anthropology and pharmacology.  He was also an accomplished painter.

By the time of the Second World War he was interested in the physiological challenges of high altitude flight and in developing suits to help pilots cope with them.

On February 21st, 1941 he was on his way to England to conduct operational tests on one such suit when his his aircraft crashed at Musgrave Harbor, Newfoundland.

The S.S. Fredrick Banting was laid down on  29 November of 1943 and was launched a mere 22 days later.

Monday, March 3, 2014

Naming the Liberty Ships - Part One

There is no logical reason for my fascination with things Nautical.  I live inland.  In fact I am about as far from salt water as you can get unless you are in a yurt hut somewhere in Central Asia.  But ships have always been special to mankind.  They are among the few inanimate objects that we name, often with words that express our hopes and aspirations.  Ulysses had his Argo, that could speak prophetically. And down through the centuries this ancient tradition has held steady.  Santa Maria. Dreadnought. Enterprise.

But there are some times when lists of ship names tell us more.  Not just the great ambitions and heroes of society, but the lesser lights.  This tends to happen during periods of conflict, when large numbers of ships are built quickly.....and all the swell names go early.  Naming a craft "HMS Victory XVII" just does not feel right, and one supposes would cause no end of problems for humble signals officers.

No, when ships are plentiful societies have to dig into obscure places to find names for them.  And there is no better example of this - and a fine archive of odd history to boot - in the naming of World War Two Liberty Ships.


It takes a lot of shipping to fight a global war, even without having to make up for ongoing losses. American shipyards rose mightily to the challenge and turned out no fewer than 2,710 "Liberty Ships". These were cargo ships of standardized design.  They were simplified wherever possible, as many of the men and women building them were more "Rosie the Riveter" than experienced ship builders.  Their engines were of an older, somewhat obsolete design that freed up the better power plants for combat ships.  In the movie Titanic the engine room scenes were filmed in a surviving Liberty Ship.

They were not great ships but they were certainly very good ones, and the Allied formula for success generally was that 10 good to very good ships or tanks or aircraft would almost always prevail over one or two superb ones.

So how does one come up with nearly 3,000 ship names?

In United States naval tradition most ship types have a set naming scheme.  Battleships are named after states.  Cruisers after cities. Destroyers after valiant sailors.  Only aircraft carriers for some reason do not have strict rules.

For Liberty Ships, in general, anyone could propose a name.  It should be of a person no longer living. Usually an American. Preferably someone who had made a significant contribution to American history or culture. You were supposed to sponsor a successful War Bond drive to get your name used, but I believe there were numerous exceptions.

When considering how best to assemble a gallery of oddly named Liberty ships I decided that there was little point trying to show pictures of each.  After all, they came off the assembly line all looking more or less alike.

Naval ships, although probably less often Merchant Marine vessels, often had formal or informal insignia such as this from the destroyer USS Black:


So I thought it would be fun to take a tour of the Liberty ships by proposing a bit of artwork for each....something that could perhaps be crafted into a ship's insignia.

Lets start out with the ship that clued me into this trove of odd history.
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USS Don Marquis

Named after the newspaper columnist and satirist whose most enduring and endearing creations were Archie and Mehitabel.  Being respectively a cockroach and a cat they observed the foibles of society around them.  Archie then wrote Marquis' columns by throwing himself headfirst at the typewriter keys, one painful letter at a time.

The Don Marquis was built in Los Angeles, a city that the writer despised from a brief and unhappy attempt to "go Hollywood".  One at least hopes the ship was christened with a bottle of something suitably spirited, Don liked his drink.  I take intense personal comfort in his vision of a happy old age that he did not actually attain:

"Between the years of ninety-two and a hundred and two, however, we shall be the ribald, useless, drunken, outcast person we have always wished to be. We shall have a long white beard and long white hair; we shall not walk at all, but recline in a wheel chair and bellow for alcoholic beverages; in the winter we shall sit before the fire with our feet in a bucket of hot water, a decanter of corn whiskey near at hand, and write ribald songs against organized society; strapped to one arm of our chair will be a forty-five calibre revolver, and we shall shoot out the lights when we want to go to sleep, instead of turning them off; when we want air we shall throw a silver candlestick through the front window and be damned to it; we shall address public meetings (to which we have been invited because of our wisdom) in a vein of jocund malice. We shall … but we don’t wish to make any one envious of the good time that is coming to us … We look forward to a disreputable, vigorous, unhonoured, and disorderly old age"