When the former World War II light aircraft carrier Cabot tied up at the Riverwalk quay in downtown New Orleans on 2 August 1989, it was a dream coming true for Denver Mullican and the members of American Legion Post 377.
The New Orleans promoter had written a thesis for his MBA degree in 1987 entitled “An Aircraft Carrier for New Orleans—An Economic Development Project.” It received high marks, but Mullican recalls, “The thesis board’s comment was that it was unrealistic.”
At Post 377, just 15 minutes upriver from New Orleans, members had for 13 years been putting money aside from their regular bingo games toward acquiring a Navy ship. Herb Wagner, then president, recalls that they had no particular ship in mind. They simply wanted something to provide a rallying point for military veterans and a symbol of the nation’s heritage.
When Mullican wrote a letter to the Times Picayune asking “Why can’t New Orleans have a warship museum?" Wagner saw it and called immediately- “It was like putting a match to paper,” says Mullican. “Suddenly we had fire.”
The search for a ship was frustrating, and the U. S. Navy’s response was discouraging. Naval officials pointed out that it might be as long as two years before anything became available, and even then the foundation would be in competition with groups in other cities that had the same idea.
Finally, Mullican discovered that the Spanish Navy was planning to scrap their aircraft carrier Dedalo, and that it happened to be the former U. S. warship Cabot. In a matter of hours he was on the phone to the office of the Spanish naval attache in Washington, D. C.
For Wagner, hearing that the Cabot might be available was akin to discovering gold in a tin mine. “I had hoped to find a carrier. I never really believed it would be the ship I served aboard during World War II.”
“We had expected a marathon,” says Mullican, of the search for an acquisition of their ship. “What we ended up with was a sprint.”
Six months after the phone call, a Cabot-Dedalo Foundation had been formed, political and civic leaders mobilized, and funds raised.
When the American Legion Post informed Mullican that they already had money put aside for the project, he was skeptical. “I figured they had maybe $5,000. When they told me they had about a half-million in cash from bingo, I couldn’t believe it!”
Four months after the group contacted the naval attache, the Spanish Navy had agreed to give the vessel to the foundation and the people of New Orleans. Two months later, the Dedalo-Cabot was under way for New Orleans on her last voyage.
In Puerto Rico she stopped and welcomed six World War II veterans who had served on the Cabot. “It was as though I was returning from leave after 44 years,” said former third class petty officer Bob Hanson. “A little like coming home.”
As the Dedalo-Cabot bumped gently against the quay wall near New Orleans’ historic Spanish Square, a U. S. Navy band played. In the river, a fire- boat sprayed red, white, and blue water, and on shore dozens of former Cabot crewmen and thousands of onlookers cheered. On the ship’s flight deck, the former Cabot crew members who boarded the carrier in Puerto Rico unsuccessfully choked back tears.
Blaine Kern, president of the Cabot- Dedalo Foundation, says the group expects to raise an initial $2 million to begin turning the ship into a museum. In addition to aircraft exhibits, video displays, and historical reenactments, the ship will also make available to veteran’s groups both office space and room for some 500 for annual reunions.
But for Denver Mullican and hundreds of American Legion veterans and former Cabot crewmen, the ship will always be more than just a museum. For them, it is a dream coming true.
I was the first skipper of the Cabot, and brought her into the war during the Marshall and Caroline islands campaigns as part of Task Force 58.
I made it a practice in the Cabot that whenever we went into action, we followed the old regulation that you hoisted your largest ensign as the battle flag. Nobody else did it. I was told later that the pilots found they could easily identify 58.2 from the other task groups because if they could see a great big American flag, it had to be the Cabot in good old 58.2.
From the Naval Institute oral history of Rear Admiral Malcolm F. Schoeffel, U. S. Navy (Retired).