Phil Frank, creator of 'Farley' and friend of the S.S. Jeremiah O'Brien died on September 12, 2007, at age 64. But Bruce the Raven will always stay with us high over the main deck perched on the crow's nest Click to see some of the strips Phil drew during the voyage, "Return to Normandy" in 1994. Click for an obituary of Phil's life from Carl Nolte in the San Francisco Chronicle. Click for an appreciation of Phil's life from Jon Carroll in the San Francisco Chronicle.

Winter, 2006

by Kevin W. Hecteman

Early in October, this author had the high honor and privilege of sailing up the coast from San Diego to San Francisco. As a working crewmember. On a Liberty ship. “A what?” you ask.

Liberty ships are one of the reasons we still have our country. American shipyards cranked out over 2,700 of these ships during World War II. And I mean “cranked out” – the average build time was roughly two months. They carried everything imaginable – tanks, jeeps, trucks, trains, planes, ammo, weaponry, food, medicine, clothing, oil, baseball gear, etc. etc. ad infinitum – to Allied troops fighting in Europe and the Pacific.

Yeah, OK, they may not have been as glamorous as, say, battleships or carriers. But without Liberties and other Merchant ships braving the U-boat-infested waters of the Atlantic, the chilly Murmansk run and other wartime sea perils to deliver the goods, the Allies lose World War II.

Oh, did I mention that the crews were civilian? Yep. Liberties were sailed by private shipping companies on behalf of Uncle Sam. Of the 60 or so aboard, 40 were members of the U.S. Merchant Marine, civilians hired and paid by private firms. The other 20 were with the U.S. Navy Armed Guard, riding along to man the guns installed for the ship’s self-defense.

I don’t know about you, but I never heard much about Liberty ships when I was in school. Today, there are two Liberties left. One of them is the S.S. Jeremiah O’Brien. To the amazement of many of our visitors at Pier 45 in San Francisco, she’s fully operational with a working crew made up entirely of volunteers. We make regular Bay cruises, most recently for Fleet Week on Oct. 7 and 8. We’ve even brought the ship up the river to Stockton and Sacramento many times.

Late last month, the O’Brien set sail for San Diego, her first offshore voyage since 1996. When she sailed for home Oct. 2, I was among the crew. My dad, who was in the Navy for a couple of years during the Vietnam War, tried to explain what it felt like to be out on the ocean before I left for San Diego, but concluded that it was unexplainable. I’d just have to see for myself, he said.

Talk about a revelation. There’s nothing as peaceful or as serene that I know of than being at sea.

In terms of pace, stress and other stuff that wears us worker bees out, steaming up the coast on a living, breathing historical monument was the polar opposite of the “real world.” I can’t remember the last time I was this relaxed – or the last time I was able to fall asleep a mere 10 minutes after knocking off at work.

Out on the sea, you see, there are no phones. No e-mail. No Internet. No TV. None of that stuff. (Yeah, I missed the first couple of days of the baseball playoffs. Oh well. I could always catch up on that stuff when I got home.)

For three days – Oct. 2 to Oct. 5 – it was just me and the sea and 55 or so of my best friends. I was part of the 12 to 4 watch – those who were on duty each day from noon to 4 p.m. and midnight to 4 a.m. Along with Ray Conrady, the mate of the watch, and fellow sailors David Larsen, Bob Arakel and Bill Muggenthaler, my job during those hours was to help keep the ship on course and out of trouble. Ordinarily, three sailors would take 80-minute turns at the helm, as lookout on the bow and on roving patrol, checking for steam leaks, smoke or other signs of trouble. Since I was brand new at this game, I was assigned to stick with veteran mariner Larsen and get wise to the ways of the ocean. It wasn’t long, though, before I was conducting roving patrols and steering the ship on my own. There’s nothing like being on the helm, with the wheelhouse to yourself, at 3 in the morning. I wish my grandfather could have seen me up there. He’d have gotten a big kick out of it. The only downside of the trip is that it ended quickly.

Fleet Week was awesome as usual, with a fully loaded (with passengers, that is) O’Brien out on the Bay watching the Blue Angels dance in the sky. When I was growing up, I wanted to be one of those Blue Angels, to be part of that exclusive club. For whatever reason, it never happened.

But hey. How many thirtysomethings can say they’ve held the helm of a Liberty ship at sea? ˜

Fall, 2006

Retired Rear Admiral Thomas J. Patterson, the founder and for years the guiding light of the National Liberty Ship Memorial, stepped down as Chairman of the Board and CEO at the Board's July meeting. Admiral Patterson cited concerns about the health of his wife, Anne, as the reason for his decision. He will continue as a Director and Chairman Emeritus.

He was succeeded by Carl Nolte, Vice Chairman of the Board and a member of the crew since the ship made its memorable return voyage to Normandy in 1994. Nolte wrote a series of articles in the San Francisco Chronicle. "They were the best stories I ever did,'' he said. On that trip I fell in love with the ship and wanted to do what I could to help her sail into the foreseeable future.'' Nolte calls Patterson "the heart and soul of this ship. Without Tom Patterson,'' he said, "this ship would have been scrapped years ago. Without Tom none of us would be here working on the ship.''

Tom Patterson graduated from the United States Merchant Marine Academy during World War II and immediately went to sea. He had a career in the Navy, and became interested—and passionate about—World War II Liberty Ships. After the war, he served aboard the USS Guardian, a Liberty Ship that had been fitted with extensive radar survelliance equipment and used as a top secret radar picket ship. He took command of the ship in a fierce Atlantic hurricane in 1955. (see story on page 10).

Later, Patterson served as Western Regional Director of the Maritime Administration. The Reserve Fleet at Suisun Bay was one of his responsibilities, and it was there that he first saw the Jeremiah O'Brien, which was one of a number of Liberty Ships then being kept for future use. The class was obsolete, but Patterson and some associates decided to single out one of the ships which they hoped to convert into a memorial to the men and women who built the wartime Merchant Fleet and the Merchant Marine and Navy sailors who crewed them.

His eye fell on the O'Brien, which was the best preserved of the lot. He helped form the National Liberty Ship Memorial, and was on hand when the O'Brien steamed out of the Reserve Fleet under her own power.

Patterson also served as Deputy Superintendent of Kings Point, his alma mater with the rank of Rear Admiral in the US Maritime Service. He later conceived the idea of taking the ship back to Normandy for the 50th anniversary of D-Day and was Chairman of the committee that made the trip happen.

He then left the O'Brien for awhile, but was called back to service in 2000 and became Chairman of the Board. His aim was to put the ship on a sound footing, earn the respect and trust of her volunteer crew and sail her on the bay. He has been successful in all those aims. He has also earned international respect, and in 2004 was awarded the Legion of Honor from the government of France.

"These are very big shoes to fill,'' Nolte, the new chairman, said. He said he hopes to find ways to put the ship on a firm financial basis and find ways to increase the number of passengers who sail with the ship on cruises. "This is a major source of finances we badly need,'' he said. In addition, he said, he wants to work with Admiral Patterson, Ken Charon and others to find major donors who can help the ship and its programs.

Nolte is a reporter on the Chronicle and has worked as an ordinary seaman in the deck department. He is a fourth generation San Franciscan and lives in the city.

Winter, 2003

by Carl Nolte

Members of the Bechtel family, pioneers in the economic transformation of the Pacific Coast, came aboard the Jeremiah O'Brien for a stem to stern tour and a special lunch in mid October. The three family members Stephen Bechtel Jr., his wife, Elizabeth and their daughter, Lauren Dachs had never been aboard the O'Brien before, but their visit was in every way a homecoming.

During World War II, the family-owned Bechtel Company built 482 Liberty ships just like the O'Brien at two huge California shipyards. One of the facilities the Marinship yard in Sausalito is only a few miles from the O'Brien's berth at Pier 45 in San Francisco. Though the O'Brien was built by another company in Portland, Maine, she is closely related to the ships built on the West coast. So the Bechtel visit was a family occasion.

For the day, the ship's engineers fired up the boilers and ran the engine in place. The three Bechtels got a top to bottom tour and a luncheon hosted by chairman of the board Rear Admiral Tom Patterson, in the officer's mess. The menu included salmon over rice prepared under the direction of Joe Guzetta and Edward Pubill of the Steward's Department and served by Steve Freeman.

There was a lot of talk that day about how the Bechtel family had transformed the shipbuilding industry and the Bay Area. They remembered how, on March 2, 1942, Admiral Emory S. Land sent a wire to Bechtel headquarters in San Francisco. Would the company be interested in building a new shipyard on the west coast? Within 24 hours, the Bechtels wired back: "yes", they would be interested. They had identified a site on the shore of Richardson Bay in Sausalito that had both deep water and a rail connection. Within a week, company president Kenneth Bechtel and other executives went to Washington to give a detailed proposal to Land. Within 10 days of the first telegram, an unbelievable time by today's standards, Bechtel had signed a contract to build the yard, operate it and deliver 34 ships by the end of the next year. Six weeks after the first telegram, Bechtel forces had torn down a Sausalito hill, filled in a tide marsh, dredged a deepwater channel, relocated a railroad line and a power facility, and started work on 21 buildings, two outfitting docks and a rail network for trains and construction cranes.

The first of 19,000 workers were hired. Marinship, as the yard was called, was by far the largest employer in the No rth bay area. By June 27, the keel of the first ship was laid. By September, the first ship a Liberty Ship named William Richardson was launched. Bechtel also built an entire new town just north of Marinship in lightning time. The town, called Marin City, is still there.

Marinship transformed not only the county but the shipbuilding industry. It employed African-American workers for the first time in large numbers, and women in shipyards for the first time ever. In Southern California, Bechtel built the even bigger Calship yard at Wilmington, near the Los Angeles harbor. While only 15 of the 93 ships built in Sausalito were Libertys, Calship turned out 467 Liberty Ships just like the O'Brien. A picture of the Calship yard is displayed on the bulkhead of the O'Brien's boat deck.

The Bechtels were pleased with what they saw on the O'Brien during their tour. Mr.Bechtel sent a letter to the ship afterward. "We were particularly impressed by the dedication and hard work of your group," he wrote. The family called the visit "a memorable occasion."

Autumn, 2003

by Jim Fisk,
Radio Dept.


Most of our crew live on the west coast and have never seen the Liberty Ship Memorial in South Portland, Maine, where the Jeremiah O'Brien and 235 of her sister ships were built. But I live in the east, near Boston, and my wife and I regularly drive through the Portland area on the way to our cottage further up the Maine coast. Not too long ago, we took a detour to see the memorial. It was worth the trip.

First, a bit of history. While the stern of the O'Brien says Portland, Maine, the ship was actually built in South Portland, a separate political entity (Portland is the ship's Designated Hailing Port as assigned by the Coast Guard). Two adjacent ship-building yards were constructed in South Portland at the beginning of the war: the East Yard, owned by the Todd-Bath Iron Works Shipbuilding Corp. and the West Yard, where the Jeremiah was constructed, owned by the New England Shipbuilding Corp. Together they employed some thirty thousand people and built 266 ships of which 236 were Libertys and 30 were Ocean class vessels for England (Sawyer and Mitchell, in their excellent book, The Liberty Ships, list an additional 8 constructed for "the transport of boxed aircraft") The first ship was delivered to the Maritime Commission in June, 1942, the last in June, 1945. At their peak, these yards could build 13 ships at a time. They're no longer there today, although I'm told the original concrete foundations can be found under a present-day marina, located where the East Yard once stood.

The Liberty Ship Memorial is built on what was once a storage area of the old yards but is now part of Bug Light Park, named for a nearby abandoned lighthouse. It is a full-size artistic replica of a Liberty ship bow under construction, as seen in the accompanying photos. It extends from the stem to the forward edge of #1 hatch, is 70 feet long, 35 feet high and 45 feet wide. There are six 4-by-8 foot weatherproof panels within the structure that display photos and newspaper clippings from the 1940's as well as more recent items depicting the 1994 Portland visit of the O'Brien on her return from Normandy.

Edward Langlois conceived the idea of a memorial to this important period in southeastern Maine history. After his death in 1998, Fred Thompson and Bob Blackwood, Jr., both of South Portland, worked hard to raise the estimated cost of $180,000. The final bill was closer to $450,000 of which $5,000 is still needed; Fred and Bob welcome contributions*. Richard Renner of Renner & Woodworth, Architects, designed the ship part of the memorial while Brad Woodworth was responsible for the information panels, which add so much to the overall effect. Starting in 1999, the two spent four years designing and building the project and even visited the Jeremiah O'Brien in 2001 for ideas. They have done a superb job.

An interesting aside about the city of Portland: one of its citizens, Mildred Gillars, was arrested in 1946, charged with treason for broadcasting German propaganda during the war, convicted and served 12 years of a 30 year sentence. She was known as Axis Sally.

*Liberty Ship Memorial
c/o Bob Blackwood
16 Bluff Road
So. Portland, ME 04106

Summer, 2003

by Carl Nolte¹


It was the ‘’best ever’’ Maritime Week Cruise, said Admiral Tom Patterson of the Saturday voyage of the Jeremiah O’Brien on May 17. Not only was the weather superb, the crowd of over 600 appreciative, but the ship received the Maritime Heritage Award from the World Ship Trust.

The O’Brien her near twin, the Liberty Ship John W. Brown, shared the award.

In the world of nautical preservation, this award is the equivalent of the Oscar and the Pulitzer Prize. On hand to present the award to the O’Brien was Jacques Chauveau, chairman of the World Ship Trust.

He read a letter from Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh and the husband of Queen Elizabeth, hailing the two ships as models of the fine art of preserving and operating historic ships.

Chauveau made particular note of the O’Brien’s role in the D-Day landing in 1944, and the ship’s even more remarkable return to Normandy in 1994. Of all that vast armada—the largest ever assembled—the O’Brien was the only ship to return 50 years later. And she steamed half way around the world to make it, with a crew of World War II veterans.

She came, wrote Peter Stanford in the magazine Sea History, “”to remind people how Americans had come in war to achieve lasting peace.’’

Admiral Patterson, chairman and CEO of the National Liberty Ship Memorial, which owns the O’Brien, accepted the award. The setting for the occasion could not have been more spectacular—the ship hove to in Bonita Cove, just outside the Golden Gate and rolled slowly in the swells during the presentation of the award—proof that the O’Brien is a living memorial as compared to a dead ship made fast to a pier.

After the award ceremony, the crew held the annual observances of the day, including casting wreaths into the water to honor those who have gone before. Among those who were honored were Rear Admiral George Jahn, master of the O’Brien for many years, and skipper of the ship on her trip to Normandy, and Captain Edward McMichael, who was the O’Brien’s first skipper when she came out of mothballs in 1980.

Spring, 2003

In the New England Shipbuilding Yard, another Liberty was almost ready for launching. Like her sister ships, she didn’t yet have a name, only a number, ‘Hull #230’.

Knocked out in 56 days from keel laying to launch, she was identical in every way to the 236 Libertys that were mass produced at the same South Portland Maine yard. As they said “ships built by the mile and chopped off by the yard”, she was a creation of basic necessity when time was of the essence. A British design obsolete from the onset, the ungainly fleet of ships derisively were called “dreadful looking objects” and the “Ugly Ducklings” by President Roosevelt. She was built to be disposable after only one trans-Atlantic crossing.

June 19, 1943 was the launch date of Hull #230 from the South Portland West yard, later christened SS Jeremiah O’Brien after the first naval war hero of the Revolutionary War. She survived wartime service that included perilous journeys to the far reaches of the globe. From Chile, Peru, New Guinea and the Philippines she delivered her much needed cargo.

But she achieved the ultimate distinction and greatness on her fourth voyage that included shuttling men, tanks and trucks to the Normandy beachheads during ‘Operation Overlord’. She made 11 runs between Southampton, England and the beaches in dangerous waters to support the Allied invasion of Europe. In her holds she delivered troops and tanks destined for use by General George Patton.

And she later returned to Normandy 50 years later to preside over the anniversary of that invasion.

Now as her her 60th birthday approaches, she will spend her time shuttling again, but this time it will be passengers around San Francisco Bay. She continues as an indomitable Memorial to the men and women who built, fought and perished on Liberty Ships.

Summer, 2002

He was welcomed aboard by retired Rear Admiral Tom Patterson, chairman and CEO of the National Liberty Ship Memorial, which operates the O'Brien. Admiral Riutta said he'd often seen the O'Brien sailing on the bay from his quarters on Yerba Buena Island and always wanted to come aboard. He said the old ship fascinated him. Patterson escorted Riutta to the flying bridge and Captain Pat Moloney invited him to take the wheel. Pat Burke, the able seaman on duty handed the wheel to the three star admiral, told him what course pilot Bill Greig had ordered and stepped aside. The admiral steered the ship for a while then accompanied Patterson on a tour.

One of the highlights of the day, Riutta said, was his visit to the engine room. He talked to all the personnel there and got a close up look at the ship's reciprocating engine. “It's the most amazing engine I've ever seen in my life,'” Admiral Riutta said later. “It's just awesome!”

Later, the Coast Guard admiral addressed the day's passengers and crew in Number Two hold. He said he'd heard many tales of sailing on Liberty Ships from his uncle, who was in the merchant marine during World War II and sailed on the deadly Murmansk run to the Soviet Union.

The O'Brien, he said, is “an incredible ship...a true memorial” it was clear, he said, that the work of the crew in keeping the ship going “is a true labor of love”.

Admiral Riutta left the ship as he had come aboard, by leaping across to the patrol boat. The crew and passengers were delighted with his visit. Seaman Burke was amazed. “This the first time,” he said, “that I was ever relieved at the wheel by a three star admiral.'”


Another story on the May Cruise

Fall, 2001

Little more than a month ago, I was at a family gathering telling my family about my experiences aboard the O’Brien. My very young granddaughter asked me what was so special about that ship anyway...it was old, dusty and is usually tied up to the dock.

I told my little granddaughter that the O’Brien is a living reminder and tangible proof of the “CAN DO” spirit of the American people during World War II. I explained that sixty plus years ago, a dark cloud of evil covered many parts of the world. The sun went behind that cloud and for many people it would never come out again. The dark cloud spread throughout Asia and Europe and good people tried to fight against it but were not strong enough to beat it. In Europe, Great Britain was the only country left to defend civilization from this nefarious enemy, but soon she found her back to the wall. Fortunately for her and to the utter dismay of the enemy, that wall turned out to be the good old USA.

The industrial might of our country swung into action building tanks and planes, making ammunition and mess kits, growing wheat and corn and butter and bandages. But yet, the dreaded U-boats were sinking ships so fast that England was starting to strangle for lack of supplies. We were at a loss how to get the goods overseas when the idea of erecting emergency shipyards using unskilled workers to build obsolete ships came to light. There was a lot of pessimism about the idea as the clouds grew darker and the gloom spread. Our leaders asked the people of America if they could build those ships. “WE CAN DO IT” was the answering cry. They came from all walks of life and from all over the country. They were young and old, rich and poor; they were tenant farmers from Mississippi, loggers from Maine, housewives from New York and farmers from Kansas.

The shipyards were built on the backwaters of America’s harbors. Scaffolding went up, ways were constructed and the ships they called ‘LIBERTY’ were built by the backbone of America, the average Jane and Joe. Seemingly insurmountable obstacles were met with the cry of “WE CAN DO IT” and before long, ship after ship was launched and on its way to England with desperately needed supplies.

It was more than just the supplies, however. It was the “CAN DO” spirit that pervaded the World to push back those dark clouds. Every time a hammer blow struck steel the sound was as clear as if it were the Liberty bell traveling across countless miles to be heard by oppressed peoples everywhere and it gave them hope. Every welding torch burning brightly in the night could be seen and gave courage to a young Leatherneck Marine fighting a desperate enemy in the jungles of Guadalcanal. Every Rivet driven home strengthened the resolve of a Dog Faced Soldier making a gallant stand at the Bulge.

I explained that it was the “CAN DO” spirit of the everyday American that saved the world from evil and that we proudly maintain the S.S. Jeremiah O’Brien as a reminder of that spirit. The little girl was impressed but sadly, I could see that the rest of the family just saw me as a nice old man with a nice story. In this days of Internet and CNN, it was easy to see that they thought that the idea of the “CAN DO” spirit was as obsolete as the O’Brien.

That’s not the end of the story, however. It wasn’t thirty six hours later, on September 11, 2001, when I got the telephone call that so many of us got. “Turn on your TV. It doesn’t matter what channel, just turn it on.” I won’t go into the details of that dreadful day, it is all too fresh in our minds. That evening the family got together again and bemoaned the idea that we have lost some of our precious Liberty that day.

My little grandchild, the same one who started our discussion on Sunday asked me if we could use the “CAN DO” spirit to help save us. I replied that we already had started. The New York City Fireman who died racing up the stairs, saving other people’s lives only to sacrifice his own was one example. Who could deny that the passengers on United 93 who overpowered the hijackers and forced the plane to dive nose first into a Pennsylvania field were filled with the spirit to put others before themselves saving countless lives even if it meant surrendering their own.

The S.S. Jeremiah O’Brien lays at Pier 45 as a reminder that the strength of this nation lies in her people and her people are strong. If our nation were to call today for the help of the good ship O’Brien you know what the answer would be: “WE CAN DO IT”. By the time the sun would rise over the East Bay hills tomorrow, she would have steam up, be fully crewed, and have her hatches open ready to load 8,000 tons of cargo for any corner of the globe.

Signed
A Volunteer

Summer, 2001

The observance is really a celebration of the ship's heritage and the long and brilliant traditions of the American Merchant Marine. Without the Merchant Marine the United States would not be the country that it is; without it San Francisco would not be a great city.

Merchant sailors commanded by Captain Jeremiah O'Brien, a civilian seafarer from Maine, fired the first shots at sea in the American Revolution. An American merchant ship made the first crossing of the Atlantic by steam power. American merchant ships built San Francisco in the days of the gold rush, and dozens of them lie buried under the city's streets.

Maritime Day is set by presidential proclamation every May 22- a red-letter day in the log of the American Merchant Marine. On that day in 1819, the steamship Savannah left Georgia for Liverpool, England and became the first steamship to cross the ocean. It took many years for steamships to sweep the sea clear of sail, and in the 1850s, American sailing ships- the famous clipper ships- were the finest in the world. “They were,” the historian Samuel Eliot Morrison said, “some of the most beautiful machines in the world.” “America's cathedrals,” he called them.

The Merchant Marine's greatest contribution, however, was in World War II. At the beginning of the war, the American merchant fleet was not large- but a truly huge wartime building program made it into the largest in the world. One of the keys was the construction of 2,751 nearly identical Liberty Ships just like the O'Brien. They were the largest single class of ships ever built.

Their mission was to supply American and Allied forces with the sinews of war - troops, guns, tanks, trucks, supplies and ammunition to bring the war to the enemy. They delivered the goods--but at a terrible price. A total of 733 U.S. flag merchant ships were lost in the war, and 5,638 American merchant mariners were killed. That is the second highest casualty rate of any service in the war.

The Merchant Marine also served gallantly in the Korean War, the war in Vietnam and more recently in the Persian Gulf.

The Jeremiah O'Brien is a living memorial to the service of these mariners. And that is why, every May, there is a solemn ceremony on board the ship just outside the Golden Gate, to honor those sailors who gave their lives for their country.

This year, the ship was honored with the presence of Coast Guard Captain Larry Hereth, Captain of the Port of San Francisco, who cast a wreath in honor of the Coast Guard and other sea services.

Other Articles by Carl Nolte
about the O'Brien (off-site)

O'Brien Joins the Tall Ships Parade SF Chronicle July 3, 1999
Repairs Put O'Brien in Rough Waters SF Chronicle Aug 14 1997
For the Love of an Old Gray Ship SF Chronicle September 29 1996
The O'Brien Shows Canada the Way SF Chronicle July 1 1996
O'Brien Weighs Anchor Again SF Chronicle June 24 1996
Jeremiah O'Brien Sets Sail Again This Summer SF Chronicle May 8 1996

A tip of the hat to Marty Wefald, who researched these links

[Carl Nolte is a staff reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle]

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