It is the morning of 7 December 1941. Amidst the screaming of men, the crackling of flames, and the muffled thumps of explosions, the men of the battleship USS Arizona (BB-39) futilely struggle to save their ship. Hit by several bombs and wreathed in smoke, the Arizona is the target of Petty Officer Noburu Kanai, who flies high above Pearl Harbor. His eye glued to the sight of his Nakajima B5N2 Kate, Kanai releases a 1,760- pound shell modified into an aerial bomb. The deadly missile hurtles through the air and strikes the Arizona near her number two turret.
The bomb tears through steel decks and hits near the forward magazines. In an instant, the Arizona explodes as tons of powder and fuel oil create a fireball that tears through bulkheads, lifts decks straight into the air, and pushes out the armored casemates that line the bow. The oily waters around the ship boil and smoke, as men and debris shower the harbor.
As the eerily appropriate strains of the soundtrack for Glory drift through his studio, Tom Freeman stands back from the board, gazing at this frozen moment of time. The harmonious voices of the Harlem Boys’ Choir, rising and falling in a dirge as the valorous men of the 54th Massachusetts are dropped into sand shrouds, stretch across the years to sound taps for the crew of the shattered battleship. The moment is pure Tom Freeman.
Hours of painstaking research have culminated in a frenzy of sketching, dabbing, and brushing that inevitably follows the tempo. Caught up in the moment, the 38-year-old artist has found his inspiration in music that matches both the drama and the somber aftermath of the Pearl Harbor attack.
Drama and action are the hallmarks of a Freeman product. When he paints an occasional ship’s portrait, the artist wants to depict action, be it a large wave rolling violently into the bow of a ship, or the bright red tracery of shells arching across the night sky. When he selects a subject, Freeman’s first concern is the scene’s visual impact. Then he fills in the details. “I’m not a bolts and nuts man,” he says- Freeman’s paintings sometimes have incomplete skies or seas. The focus is on the subject, and it is there that the accuracy of his work is demonstrated in close attention to historical detail.
For his most recent project, Tom Freeman is busy painting 43 scenes of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Freeman is using acrylics on board to capture scenes that evaded the camera on 7 December. In the predawn hours, five /-class submarines close within ten miles of Diamond Head to launch midget subs that will enter the harbor and attack the unsuspecting Pacific Fleet. A Kate launches a torpedo at the USS Oklahoma (BB-37). The USS Ward (DD-139) fires on and sinks one of the midget submarines in the Pearl Harbor defensive zone. Men trapped in a half-flooded compartment in the capsized Oklahoma await rescue—or death—by the dim light of a battle lantern.
Freeman insists on accuracy in each of these scenes. More than 75% of the information he has gathered for the paintings comes from oral histories. He substantiates and cross-checks each account. For example, in his painting of the exploding Arizona, Freeman is trying to determine whether the ensign was flying. Some survivors insist that it was, while others recall raising it on the shattered hulk on 8 December. Rather than rely on these memories alone, Freeman is checking photographs of the attack to determine if the flag was there.
When he begins work on a project, Tom Freeman consults his large library of reference works—most bearing the imprint of the Naval Institute Press—and borrows books and photos from colleagues and libraries. He carefully scrutinizes photographs and plans of ships and events and sketches the details. When the images of a specific ship are not available, Freeman finds a sister ship and carefully, first in his mind’s eye, and then on paper, creates an image that incorporates the correct features of the ship and the time he is depicting. In his painting of the USS Maryland (BB-46), for example. Freeman sketched from an early war photograph, adding late war details as he painted. With the sweep of a brush, Freeman replaces single five-inch guns with twin five-inch guns and modernizes fire- control and search radars.
Often his work lasts late into the night. Freeman does not keep regular hours. His studio, isolated at one end of his large, comfortable home north of Baltimore, allows him to work without disturbing family or neighbors. He sits in a big, overstuffed chair with a cigarette dangling from his lip, his board tilted toward him, next to a paint-splattered table lined with bottles and brushes.
Freeman is definitely not a romantic, arguing that the romantic view has “taken the guts out of marine art.” And yet he works in watercolors because he likes the medium’s delicacy.
Born in Pontiac, Michigan, near Detroit, Freeman watched ships pass without pause on the busy St. Clair River, which links Lakes Huron and Erie. The sea first inspired him when his father took him to see a capsized wreck rising out of the muddy St. Clair. “I had never seen anything like that ship,” he said. “It made a powerful impression on me.” Ever since. Freeman’s paintings of choice have made a powerful impression on others. “I want people to look at my painting and see it, smell it, and feel it. I want my work to arouse all the senses.” Working from his memory of experiences before the mast in the North Atlantic, and in the Marine Corps and Arm) Tom Freeman has created an impressive portfolio. His works have appeared on the covers of various books and magazines, including Proceedings', inside many publications; as poster art and limited-edition lithographs; on Maryland'; first Saltwater Sport Fishing Stamp; and on limited-edition porcelain plates produced by the Franklin Mint and the Hamilton Plate Group. Recently, Freeman produced three large murals for the Naval Academy that depict a large cruiser task force at sea, a submarine rescue of downed B-52’s crew, and the Battle of Hue.
Sponsors of Freeman’s work include such corporations as Martin Marietta publishing houses, and the National Pari Service. Freeman paintings hang in several national park visitor centers and have been displayed in many galleries. Some have hung in the West Wing of the White House, including his favorite, a portrait of the USS Olympia (C-6), which now adorns his living room wall. Many Freeman’s works celebrate the "big- gun” Navy, and when pressed, he admits that the heavies are his favorite. “They are the epitome of a warship. Even now-after you’ve fired the missiles, torpedoes, and the Phalanx, it’s going to be captain to captain, gun to gun.”
Freeman has now branched out into a new area of art. Recent discoveries of largely intact, famous ships in the deep ocean stimulated his imagination. Freeman and associates tried to develop a market for artwork and other media products based on the wreck of RMS Titanic and more recently, the Confederate raider Alabama. His art on these ships was popular, but controversies over the ownership, exploration, and recovery of artifacts from the two ships compelled Freeman, a believer in the careful, scientific study of shipwrecks, to withdraw from marketing efforts on both vessels. His interest in shipwrecks continues, however, and he recently completed an underwater painting of the sunken hulk of the Arizona, straddled by the Arizona Memorial. It is a grim counterpoint to his Painting of the exploding, burning battleship.
Freeman is now completing paintings of the wrecks of Operation Crossroads. Sunk in atomic weapons tests in 1946, the massive, battered hulls of the aircraft carrier Saratoga (CV-3), the battleship Arkansas (BB-33), the Japanese battleship Nagato, and several other vessels lie at Bikini Atoll. All were documented by the National Park Service’s Submerged Cultural Resources Unit, a team of archaeologists, scientific illustrators, and historians. Freeman has painted the Saratoga (see October 1990 Proceedings, pp. 45-50) and is now working on the Nagato and the submarine Pilotflsh (SS- 386) for the Park Service report.
The paintings are challenging and fascinating work, says Freeman. “The camera can only see so much, and plans and drawings offer a colorless, two-dimensional image. Paintings allow us to see the ship as she is today underwater. I feel my paintings are a tool, an interpretive tool, that provide a frame of reference that you can’t always get with photos. The restless Freeman is not content with mere portraits underwater, however. In his paintings, tiny divers explore the wrecks, their lights illuminating the dark nooks of Saratoga's compartments. Action, an eye for detail, and the unusual angle, such as drowned battleships and carriers, set Tom Freeman apart from other marine artists. Now helping to unlock the undersea world, Freeman is constantly seeking new subjects, different views of the naval and military past, and as always, more action.