Some of the happiest memories of my naval experience are from the spring of 1969 when both my brother, Mark, and I were serving on board ships homeported in Long Beach, California. He was on board the amphibious-warfare ships Princeton (LPH-5) and Talladega (LPA-208), while I was assigned to the battleship New Jersey (BB-62).
Our ships were moored at the naval shipyard’s huge Pier Echo along with a refugee from Britain’s Cunard Line, the retired ocean liner Queen Mary. My recollection is that the liner was painted with a brownish preservative. A nearby billboard promised she would be open for business as a tourist attraction in 1970, that date having replaced a more optimistic one.
During our off-duty times, Mark and I enjoyed hanging out together—movies, baseball games, sightseeing, occasional double dates. The Long Beach Naval Base was a vast enterprise that included both the shipyard and adjoining naval station. I remember the officers’ club, with its red carpeting and commodious interior. One night each week the club hosted a dance at which women looking for dates with Navy men were welcome. There was also a gathering of Navy men looking for dates with women—a happy coincidence. Some of the resulting excursions included meals at Norms, a popular restaurant chain throughout the Los Angeles area. Mark and I also ate there on non-date occasions. Our favorite was the one at the intersection of Long Beach Boulevard and Pacific Coast Highway.
Our ships were fairly soon decommissioned, and Mark and I went on with subsequent phases of our lives. The majestic Queen Mary, repainted in her original colors of red, white, and black, eventually opened as a hotel and museum in 1971. In the early 1990s I returned to Long Beach a few times while the New Jersey and her sister Missouri (BB-63) were still in active service. I later went to the decommissionings of both ships—the end of an era. Long Beach had been the Navy’s principal battleship port in the 1920s and 1930s.
As it turned out, the naval base was also on the endangered-species list. In the late 1990s the shipyard and naval station were shut down as part of the contraction of the Navy’s infrastructure. The new role for the area would be as a commercial container port. Demolition crews leveled the site; there went rows of palm trees, that beautiful club, barracks, recreation facilities, shops, drydocks, and all the rest.
In mid-May of this year I had an opportunity to return for the first time in more than 20 years. The occasion was a reunion of former crew members of the heavy cruiser Newport News (CA-148). I first saw her sleek, graceful silhouette against an early morning sky in 1967—the most beautiful warship I’ve ever seen. Later that year I watched her firing shore bombardment in Vietnam. In 1974 I made a cruise on board when I was briefly serving with the staff of commander, Second Fleet. She was long ago scrapped, but the alumni brought aboard seabags full of memories for the reunion gathering on board the Queen Mary. It was as if we had all dated the same girl.
It was a genuine pleasure to prowl the liner’s various decks and observe the distinctive art deco furnishings from her 1930s construction. In keeping with the days-of-yore accoutrements, the shower/tub combination in my room had four old-looking faucet handles in a vertical row: hot and cold freshwater and saltwater. On-board photos show the Queen’s role as a wide-ranging troopship in World War II. A 40-mm antiaircraft gun mount forward of the superstructure is a token symbol of her role in that conflict.
Among those on hand was 85-year-old Bill Gunn, a member of the first crew of the Newport News in 1949. During the reunion he wore the uniform of the boatswain’s mate third class he once was. Numerous stories from the dozens of former sailors often began with “Well, when I was on the News . . .” Then came tales of firing missions, overseas deployments, liberties, and the sad recollection of 20 shipmates killed in a turret explosion in 1972. For the most part, the stories were happy ones, with many of the less-enjoyable experiences having mercifully faded from recall.
Moored near the bow of the majestic liner is a former Soviet submarine, a diesel-electric boat of the “Foxtrot” class. The Queen Mary retired from passenger service before the “Foxtrot” was commissioned. The two thus constitute both an anachronistic juxtaposition and an ironic one. They were created for much different purposes, but now they share a common one—bringing in revenue. The former communist warship has a new role in a capitalist country.
As I wandered ashore, I saw the current incarnation of the former Navy home port. It is now a massive freight-moving establishment. At regular intervals along the horizon are rows of towering cranes that methodically haul shipping containers over the shoreline, to and from neat stacks on board cargo ships. Waiting at the feet of the cranes are steady streams of tractor-trailer rigs. The area is a vital link in the economy of the United States, as was visibly demonstrated by a labor dispute that tied up port operations earlier this year.
It is now all so different from what I remembered. And what of the restaurant at Long Beach Boulevard and Pacific Coast Highway? That location is no longer part of the Norms chain.
Things change—lots of things.