There is a (RED) Light That Never Goes Out: Monitor Looks at 152

By Matthew T. Eng
Naval Historical Foundation

We are closing another calendar year on the Civil War Sesquicentennial. It is the last December of the war years. Civil War naval enthusiasts will note the importance of today’s date across the landscape of the social media blogosphere: the 31 December sinking of USS Monitor.

Monitor put to sea under tow from USS Rhode Island on the final days of 1862. A violent storm soon developed off Hatteras, forcing Monitor’s Commanding Officer John P. Bankhead to signal a red lantern to the crew of Rhode Island for help. The lamp hung with the running lights on the turret, the highest point of the vertically challenged vessel. By the time the Monitor survivors arrived safely on board Rhode Island, their beloved ship began to pitch and roll under the strain of the sea. Sailors recall seeing the red light atop of the turret flickering in and out in the distance as they began to break off. By 1:00 AM on 31 December 1862, the red light was underneath the turbulent waves.

“We watched from the deck of the Rhode Island the lonely light upon the Monitor's turret – a hundred times we thought it had gone forever, – a hundred times it reappeared, till at last...it sank and we saw it no more."-       Surgeon Samuel Gilbert Webber (USS Rhode Island)

The red lantern and several other important artifacts from the ironclad are back on the surface. Resting underneath the waves are the remains of the ship and the bodies of fourteen sailors. Two of their comrades discovered inside the recovered turret now rest in Arlington National Cemetery.

Such A Heavenly Way to Die?

Significant dates are a tricky form of understanding history, especially in today’s social media-centric society. Anybody can write down or post about WHEN something happened in naval history. Maybe a few historical photos will accompany the brief text. You may “like” it on Facebook. Hell, you may even share it on your wall or tweet it to your followers. But the learning stops there. The dialog dies. We can’t afford to do that when there is so much more to talk about, especially Monitor. It takes talent to convey to others WHY and HOW it happened.

Most stewards of the craft are simply telling you when something happened in the grand timeline of naval history. Fort Fisher falls in January. Mobile Bay was an early August event. The Battle of Hampton Roads is celebrated for two days every March. So much more happens in between a calendar year and a time and place. Merely telling the general public about a significant date in history seems like an empty gesture. The public demands and deserves more. Thanks to a dedicated group of historians, museum specialists, curators, and underwater archaeologists, we continue to learn more about America’s first ironclad every day.

History in the Darkened Underpass

It’s been a tough set of years to mark the current Civil War commemoration. Anyone who tells you differently has not paid close attention to the pulse of the general public. Controversy is a yearly event.

A centennial seems like a nice round number – one that is easily recognizable to the general public. World War I fans are currently reaping the benefits of this in the same way the public honored the recent War of 1812 bicentennial. Looking back at 150 years is more difficult. These years mark the halfway point on the road trip to the bicentennial. It is as if the public is sitting in the back seat of the car, asking leading historians, museum specialists, and authors “are we there yet?” We are there. In fact, there is less than 150 days left in the entire sesquicentennial commemoration. How will it fair during the 175^th in 2036?

Monitor was not immune to this harsh criticism in the wake of the Conservation Lab’s closure. The year for Monitor began on 9 January with news from the Washington Post that the USS Monitor lab would close its doors due to a lack of federal funding. The news shocked everyone, in and out of the field. Many of the comments posted on the Post article were anything but helpful. Many questioned why we support such aged history in the first place. Supporters of Monitor soon came to their aid when funding proved short, calling for others to help preserve the lab and artifacts. Thankfully, the lab reopened only a few months later this summer. Monitor was back, and the interest continued to grow.

The Monitor Center Reopens (Adrin Snider / Daily Press)

That interest stayed at this year’s 10^th Maritime Heritage Conference in Norfolk, Virginia. A special panel shed light on the recent efforts and partnerships between the Mariners’ Museum, Monitor Conservation Lab, and NOAA. Leading experts on the ship spoke positively about the future of the artifacts. I had a chance to write a nice piece about some of their more recent artifact conversation projects. The sea state was calm. The subject of Monitor and shipwreck history even came up at this year’s World War I Centennial Conference at the MacArthur Memorial. There is so much more to the mystery of Monitor than a single date in time.  

It would seem that the red lantern, which became a central artifact in the discussion of the Monitor’s recovery, is still on. Dave Krop and the fine folks at the lab are still doing the diligent work necessary to preserve one of the Civil War’s most treasured relics.

Monitor is a figurehead of American naval history. One may argue the ship’s supreme importance within the timeline of naval history in general. Monitor is WHY and HOW Civil War naval history is alive and well today. Such an important ship deserves our respect and admiration.

“Well, the pleasure – the privilege is mine” to continue to work with those who would see the red light never extinguished from the memory of Monitor. Thank you to all who keep it lit.  

Save the Monitor Collection

“I will stand by you to the last if I can help you.”

            - LT John Worden, USS Monitor

 A Washington Post article reported today that the Monitor Lab at the Mariners’ Museum will shut down due to a lack of Federal funding.  The Mariners’ Museum was Congressionally designated to maintain the Monitor artifacts since 1987.  It currently holds her turret, two cannons, propeller, and steam engine.

This news comes as a shock to many in the museum world.  The recent burial of two of her sailors who went down with the ship in December 1862 garnered worldwide attention in March of 2013.  

That ship might not have meant much to the men of the Virginia when they first saw it steaming into battle the morning of 8 March 1862.  They mocked it.  It was mocked on both sides.  Some called it a “cheesebox on a raft,” or a “tin can on a shingle.”  Yet that seemingly insignificant object went on to change the course of naval history forever.  Tested in battle.  Upheld by a tradition of honor, courage, and commitment lasting to this day.  For every man and woman who wears a uniform, you are carrying the torch once held by forty-nine brave officers and men, sixteen of which paid the ultimate sacrifice nine months later in a storm off the North Carolina Coast. 

I can only assume, reader, that you care about history.  Otherwise, what else would bring you to this blog?  Museums and institutions like the Mariners’ Museum and USS Monitor Center work painstakingly hard.  If you care about history…if you truly care, please continue reading.  

I am not writing this because I have friends who work there or have worked there in the past.  I am not writing this as a crusade because the Monitor is a legendary ship.  I am writing this for the sake of history.  After all, what do we have to look forward to in our future if we do not do the work to remember the past?  This is a critical blow to Civil War fans worldwide, especially during this sesquicentennial commemoration. 

Every time I step up those stairs and gaze into the large tank, my eyes begin to well up with tears.  I did it the first time I saw it, and I guarantee I will do it when I see it again.  With the lights on and the staff working. 

For fans and enthusiasts of Civil War naval history, the space that separates you from that room and the glass along the wall is the closest you will ever get to experiencing the full weight and might of one of history’s greatest ships.  For others, it is their job to work inside the collection space, ensuring that it is maintained and protected.  Help them continue to do their good work. 

I entreat you reader to take a few moments and sign the change.org petition.  It will only take you a few moments.  Your effort will hopefully contribute to the continued preservation and commemoration of the Monitor. 

John Ericsson, the ship’s designer, could have easily shut down.  The victim of circumstance following the explosion on the USS Princeton, Ericsson retreated to a hermit-like existence and bane of the organization he worked so hard to help.  But he did not.  He pushed through and created the ship we know and love today.  Honor him.  Honor the men who fought on and with her.  It will only take a few seconds of your time. 

SIGN THE PETITION HERE.

Heroes Get Remembered, but Legends Never Die: The Ongoing Fascination with USS Monitor

Today marks the 151st anniversary of the sinking of the USS Monitor.  It is as much a front story headline over a hundred and fifty years ago as it remains today.  The burial of the two unidentified sailors at Arlington National Cemetery in March hit worldwide popularity among the major news outlets.  It is by far one of the most intriguing stories of the American Civil War.  But why?  

This post is but one of many written about the Monitor today.  That is no secret.  It's an anniversary, after all.  In a block of major commemorations already occurring (WWII, 1812, WWI, Korea), it seems only natural.  Our own American love affair with commemorations continue to drive many history-based blogs and social media outlets such as the CWN 150.  History happens within these parameters.  The job of the historian and the general public is to remember it in whatever way they seem fit: ceremonies, stories, publications, lectures, etc.  It is an unspoken "social contract" Civil War enthusiasts signed back in 2011 at the commemoration's beginning.  The story of the Monitor, however, is still alive and thriving.  Others already faded into the distant sleep of the bicentennial.  

Battlefields around the country also received their attention this year.  Thousands of visitors braved the heat and flocked to the Gettysburg and Vicksburg sesquicentennial commemorations.  Their stories certainly deserve equal praise and reverence.  What is particularly interesting about the USS Monitor, now 151 years later, is its adaptability.  Her story constantly evolves.  Like some creature lost in the evolutionary chain, the men of the Monitor adapt to the changing time periods. 

Dozens of books about the Monitor currently line your book store's Civil War section.  The majority of these published over the course of the last decade.  Timeliness is next to godliness.  Many monographs claim "new developments" or "uncovered history."  This is perhaps an intentional play on the ship's 2002 recovery.  Even after the hoopla of the ship's sesquicentennial anniversary during the Battle of Hampton Roads in 2012, books, articles, and news stories continue to surface.  Far beyond the typical "15 minutes" of historical fame, the Monitor has overstayed its welcome.  We are okay with that.

The continued fascination exists on everything from wine bottles to memorial plaques and challenge coins.  In the grand scheme of collective memory, the Monitor is THE BRAND for the Civil War navies.  At a time when branding takes up so much time and energy for museums and institutions around the world, enthusiasts for this subject have known theirs for years.  Whether you like the publicity or not, the Monitor is here to stay.  

Heroes get remembered.  Legends like the Monitor, however, never die.  That is a promise as ironclad as the ship itself.  

Here's to 151 years.  As you toast your champagne tonight, save a little bit for the Monitor boys.    

    

Prepared Remarks of SECNAV Mabus; Video Links Posted

USS Monitor Interment Ceremony

Secretary of the Navy Ray Mabus

Remarks as Prepared

I’d like to begin by acknowledging the family members who made a special trip to join us.    As the families of USS Monitor’s crew you know, as all Sailors know, that the crew of a warship is a lot like an extended family.  We thank you for being with us today to help us honor the two Sailors we inter today, and the 14 others who perished so long ago aboard the Monitor.

But in a larger sense, this ceremony also honors every individual who ever put to sea in defense of our country.  From the Marblehead men who rowed Washington across the Delaware, to these brave souls, to those who serve today in nuclear-powered carriers and submarines, Sailors have always been the same; they are at heart risk-takers—willing, even eager, to brave the unknown to peer past distant horizons.

It is fitting that we hold this ceremony today on the 151st anniversary of the Battle of Hampton Roads, where the Monitor engaged the Virginia for control of the James River and Southern Chesapeake Bay. Though the outcome that day was a draw, the battle enshrined each ship in naval immortality.  As our guest James McPherson wrote in his book War on the Waters, “Naval warfare would never again be the same after history’s first battle between ironclads.”

Nine months later, Monitor ended her short, storied career.  South of Cape Hatteras, in the area known as the graveyard of the Atlantic, Monitor and USS Rhode Island were swept up in a perilous winter gale.  As the night of December 30, 1862, progressed and the storm worsened, Monitor began to take on water.  As her pumps failed the 62-man crew decided it was time to abandon ship.  William Keeler, one of the 46 survivors, wrote to his wife once safely ashore saying, “The heavy seas rolled over our bow, dashing against the pilot house, and, surging aft, [and] would strike the solid turret with a force that would make it tremble . . . Words cannot depict the agony of those moments as our little company gathered on top of the turret . . . with a mass of sinking iron beneath us.”  Crews from Rhode Island ventured into the storm in their lifeboats to save the men of Monitor, Sailors struggling to save other Sailors.  At one o’clock in the morning, in the pouring rain and pitch black darkness, Monitor slipped below the raging seas.  Sixteen men went with her.

Naval tradition holds that the site of a sunken vessel is a sacred burial ground, and that Sailors who go down with their ships belong together.  But eleven years ago, when a team from the U.S. Navy, NOAA, and the Mariner’s Museum in Newport News raised the turret of USS Monitor from the depths, they were surprised to the remains of two crew members.  We began the process to try and identify these men, but too much time had passed to match these two Sailors to their names. 

However, having raised their remains, we brought them here, to the national military cemetery founded during the same great conflict for which they gave, in President Lincoln’s words, their “last full measure of devotion,” to provide these two Sailors with a final resting place.

This may well be the last time we bury Navy personnel who fought in the Civil War at Arlington. But we do not hesitate to keep faith and to honor this tradition, even more than 150 years after the promise was made.  Our nation honors our fallen Sailors, Soldiers, Airmen, Marines and Coast Guardsmen because we do not want their sacrifice, however distant, to be unremembered.  We are joined, as Lincoln again reminded us, by “the mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield, and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone.”

In a coincidence of history, today also marks the 124th anniversary of the death of Monitor’s designer, Swedish-American inventor John Ericsson.  The Monitor was a brand new type of ship, all steel construction; with heavy armor, heavy guns in a rotating turret, a deck barely above the waterline and screw propeller.  Ericsson’s design was yet another example of American naval innovation, from Joshua Humphrey’s Fast Frigates, to the Monitor, to the ships of today, the most complex platforms the world has ever known.  As it was in Ericsson’s time, so has it always been in the Navy: pioneering new materials, revolutionary weapons, innovative means of propulsion, creating a technological edge we maintain to this day.

On, above, and below the sea, our United States Sailors have always braved great danger.  In times of peace, as in times of war, it is a dangerous profession.  Today is a tribute to all the men and women of the sea, but especially those who made the ultimate sacrifice on our behalf, and an opportunity to once again pay our respects and offer our somber and deeply held gratitude for that sacrifice.

Thank you.

VIDEO LINKS:

For those of you who were unable to attend the ceremony, CHINFO has released a short video of the Chapel Ceremony.  You can view it on Youtube or stream it here on this blog:



 Interview with Lee Duckworth, HRNM Director of Education:

 

 A special thanks to LT Lauryn Dempsey and CHINFO for coordinating the news media/PR for this event.