‘I can do one of two things.
I can be President of the United States or
I can control Alice Roosevelt.
I cannot possibly do both.’
—Theodore Roosevelt
In August 1905, Theodore Roosevelt became the first U.S. President to submerge in a submarine. He was not, however, the first Roosevelt to attempt what was then rightly considered to be a dangerous venture—his 19-year-old daughter Alice had preceded him by almost two years. On 10 September 1903, she went aboard a U.S. Navy submarine and dipped below the surface of the harbor in Newport, Rhode Island.
Fifty-six years later in Vallejo, California, Alice, then 75, would christen the Navy’s newest nuclear submarine, named for her illustrious father. Thus, she witnessed submarines from their primitive beginning to their development into one of the most technologically sophisticated vessels ever built.
In the early 1900s, Newport had become the summer resort for the wealthy from New York and the South. The upper crust gathered there by the sea to enjoy a glittering swirl of parties, banquets, concerts, sporting events, and social competition in opulent “cottages” that had as many as 70 rooms.
In 1903, Alice Roosevelt joined the Newport scene to attend the coming-out party of her friend Constance Livermore, the daughter of Baroness Selliere. While dancing at cotillions, enjoying dinner parties, and receiving automobile driving lessons from John Jacob Astor, Alice expressed interest in going aboard a submarine at the nearby Naval Torpedo Station.1
Her request had more implications than simply those of a presidential daughter wanting to visit a ship. Alice had become a star of East Coast society after her debutante ball at the White House in January 1902. “Alice Fever” had swept the nation, and she was as famous then as Taylor Swift is today.
The society press of New York reported Alice’s every activity and had dubbed her “Princess Alice.” She did many things respectable young women were not supposed to do: She smoked cigarettes. She drove an automobile. She gambled on sports. When a friend asked her father about her colorful behavior, he replied: “I can do one of two things. I can be President of the United States or I can control Alice Roosevelt. I cannot possibly do both.”
Alice’s request presented two problems for the Navy. The first was easily managed. Navy rules at the time prohibited non-service personnel from going aboard submarines. However, when the Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces authorized Alice’s visit, that concern disappeared.2
The second was more challenging: concern for her safety in case should something go wrong when the submarine submerged. Poisonous chlorine gas was one danger. If the acid in the submarine’s batteries accidentally mixed with seawater, the resulting chlorine gas could kill everyone in the small vessel. Five months earlier, an explosion of accumulated battery gas in the Navy’s experimental submarine Fulton had injured six of the crew.3
And if, for some reason, the ballast equipment malfunctioned and the submarine could not return to the surface, the Navy had no way to rescue the crew other than raising the entire submarine. This took time, and people on board could suffocate during the rescue effort. Years later the Navy did lose a crew this way (the USS S-4 in December 1927).
In 1903, submarines were brand-new to the Navy, and there was no certainty regarding how safe they were for their crews, let alone the President’s daughter. The Navy had commissioned its first submarine, the USS Holland (SS-1), only three years earlier. President Roosevelt had wanted to go aboard the Holland at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis and submerge in 1902, but members of his cabinet convinced him that the risk to his life was too great.4
While the Navy experimented with the Holland, it had ordered a second, improved group of submarines called the A-class. The Naval Torpedo Station at Newport served as the training base for several of these submarines, and the USS Moccasin (SS-5) was among those berthed there. Operating a submersible vessel continued to be a learning experience for the Navy, and the Moccasin was primarily a training platform.
The Navy hardly could deny the request from the President’s daughter, and it selected the Moccasin for Alice’s visit. Named for the deadly snake, the Moccasin had been commissioned in January 1903 and remained a work in progress. Sixty-four feet in length, she had a rudimentary conning tower and no periscope, galley, bunks, or head. Powered by a gasoline engine on the surface and electric batteries when submerged, she could remain underwater for four to 12 hours; the slower she traveled, the longer she could stay beneath the waves.5
The Navy initially planned for Alice to go aboard the Moccasin, cruise in Narragansett Bay, submerge for as long as she desired, and then return to the Torpedo Station. After some consideration, it changed this plan in favor of one that was simpler and safer. It canceled the cruise on Narragansett Bay.
Instead, the Moccasin, with Alice on board, would simply submerge at the pier where she was berthed. The water was not deep. Should anything go wrong, the Navy would know exactly where the President’s daughter and the crew were located. A slow, level descent at the pier also eliminated the possibility of battery acid spilling and mixing with seawater.
On the morning of 10 September 1903, Alice stood on the pier looking down at the slippery, whale-shaped hull of the Moccasin at her berth. Floating mostly submerged, her sleek black hull projected a mysterious and menacing presence. Awaiting Alice were the Moccasin’s commanding officer, Ensign Frank Pinney, and the sub’s crew of six enlisted men.
Alice was escorted by the commanding officer of the Torpedo Station, Lieutenant Commander (later Admiral and Medal of Honor recipient) Frank F. Fletcher (the man for whom the World War II–era Fletcher-class destroyer would be named and the uncle of Frank Jack Fletcher of World War II fame). Guided by Ensign Pinney, Alice climbed through the Moccasin’s hatch and down a steel ladder—newspaper accounts do not mention what she wore for the visit—and entered a small compartment crammed with machinery and smelling of gasoline and oil. The visitors made the space even more cramped. With Ensign Pinney giving the orders, the crew closed the hatch, checked the settings, opened valves, and the Moccasin descended to the bottom.6
The bottom was not far away. The sub drew 10½ feet and the water at the pier was 25 feet deep, so Alice’s voyage to the bottom of the sea didn’t take long. Once on the bottom, Alice looked at the complicated machinery crammed inside the steel hull of the small vessel. She talked with the crew and asked about the source of the air they were breathing. She saw the Moccasin’s sole torpedo tube. Behind her was the sub’s gasoline engine, and beneath the deckplates she stood on were the batteries for submerged propulsion. Light bulbs lit the interior, and some sunlight filtered through the viewing ports in the tiny conning tower. The steering wheel used by Ensign Pinney hung from the overhead. The Moccasin was very compact.
After 15 minutes, Alice’s curiosity was satisfied, and the Moccasin rose to the surface. The crew opened the hatch in the conning tower, and Alice climbed up the ladder into the fresh air. With a satisfied look at the vessel in which she had made history as the first woman to submerge in a U.S. Navy submarine, she returned to Newport’s social whirl with a luncheon at Baroness Selliere’s mansion. A few days later she was on her way with friends to the Adirondacks. If she had any thoughts about her experience on board the Moccasin, she never recorded them.7
President Theodore Roosevelt followed his famous daughter almost two years later, when he persuaded Mrs. Roosevelt that he would be safe if he submerged in a submarine. She had good reasons for being skeptical. Submarines were rightly considered to be dangerous vessels—if not to an enemy, then to their own crews. In June 1905, the Royal Navy submarine A8, a vessel of the same design as the Moccasin, swamped and sank while running on the surface; 15 men died and only four survived. A month later, the French submarine Farfadet sank while making a dive. Many in the crew of 16 suffocated while rescuers tried to run cables under the submarine to raise her to the surface.
In August 1905, President Roosevelt again expressed his desire to see a submarine in operation. The Farfadet disaster had occurred only a month earlier, and the press was wary of such a dangerous venture that would put his life and the nation’s security at risk. Roosevelt and his staff repeatedly denied that he had any intention of submerging; he merely wanted to watch it go through maneuvers on the surface, see it dive and surface, and perhaps fire a torpedo. This he would do from the deck of the presidential steam yacht Sylph.8
The Navy had time to prepare a submarine, and it took no chances. It ordered the USS Plunger (SS-2) to the Brooklyn Navy Yard for a thorough inspection. The Plunger was only the Navy’s second submarine and a sister ship to the Moccasin. Shipyard workers swarmed over the vessel, examining everything and making repairs. The Navy’s safety precautions included welding lifting attachments to the exterior of the hull should Roosevelt and the vessel have to be raised from the bottom.9
In August 1905 the Plunger arrived at Roosevelt’s summer home on Oyster Bay, Long Island. On the 23rd, Mrs. Roosevelt watched as the Plunger, commanded by Lieutenant Charles Nelson, demonstrated the sub’s ability to submerge and surface. The President was absent; he was preparing to negotiate the peace treaty that would end the Russo-Japanese War and garner him the Nobel Peace prize in 1906.
Roosevelt invited Lieutenant Nelson for lunch at his Oyster Bay home on 24 August, and there they talked about the Navy’s submarines. Nelson had made some 300 dives in the Plunger; he knew her capabilities, and he had confidence in his crew. He spoke so enthusiastically about his submarine that the Rough Rider of San Juan Hill began to consider going aboard to observe operations—from inside and underwater.10
With Mrs. Roosevelt’s approval of the Plunger’s safety—it would be too much to say she authorized his adventure—and despite The New York Times’ comment that the President would not risk his life in a submarine, Roosevelt did exactly that.11
On a rainy blustery Friday afternoon, 25 August, the 46-year-old adventurer went aboard the Plunger and spent three hours, with almost an hour submerged, as Lieutenant Nelson demonstrated the sub’s capabilities. Nelson took the craft down to a depth of 40 feet and even turned out all the lights to show the proficiency of his crew, who were able to operate in total darkness.
Roosevelt was thoroughly delighted with his experience, saying, “I never spent a more enjoyable and interesting afternoon in all my life.”12 Submarines received a boost in their prestige in the Navy. Roosevelt’s voyage also resulted in the policy of extra pay for the men who, Roosevelt recognized, endured hardship and risk as they operated their vessels.
Thus, two Roosevelts established their place in submarine history. Alice Roosevelt became the first woman documented to have submerged in a U.S. Navy submarine. (That distinction is important: Alice was not the first woman to submerge in any submarine. Simon Lake, a brilliant submarine developer, had taken women undersea in the private submarines he developed for underwater salvage.) Theodore Roosevelt was the first U.S. President to submerge in a submarine. (The next President to submerge while he was in office would be Harry Truman in 1946, in a submarine captured from the German Kriegsmarine.) Roosevelt never again went to sea in a submarine—but Alice would have one more contact with the Silent Service.
That contact came in 1959—56 years after her 1903 descent in the Moccasin—when the Navy requested she serve as the sponsor for the Navy’s newest submarine, the USS Theodore Roosevelt (SSBN-600). Alice was then 75 and the widow of Nicholas Longworth III. She lived in Washington, D.C., and had a well-earned reputation as a capital hostess, a political insider, and a feisty conversationalist with a sharp and unbridled tongue. On her sofa was a pillow embroidered with one of her acerbic remarks, of which there were many: “If you can’t say something good about someone, sit right here by me.”
The Theodore Roosevelt, the submarine she was to christen, was a fleet ballistic-missile submarine. She carried 16 intercontinental missiles that provided crucial protection for the United States during the Cold War of the 1960s and ’70s. The incredible destructive power of her missiles exemplified Alice’s father’s maxim that the United States should “walk softly and carry a big stick.” Appropriately, the submarine’s nickname became “the Big Stick.”
Perhaps the only similarity between the Moccasin and the Theodore Roosevelt was their whale-shaped hulls. The Theodore Roosevelt had a length of 381 feet; the Moccasin was 64 feet. The Theodore Roosevelt had a crew of 112, the Plunger seven. But the biggest difference was the propulsion. The Theodore Roosevelt was powered by a nuclear reactor that could drive the sub, when submerged, at speeds greater than 25 knots (28.7 mph). Her nuclear reactor could operate for more than four years before it had to be refueled. A gasoline engine powered the Moccasin on the surface and an electric battery and motor, capable of 8 knots (9.2 mph), underwater. As for refueling, “frequent” is the best description.
The launching was set for 3 October 1959 at Mare Island Naval Shipyard in Vallejo, California. As the submarine’s sponsor, Mrs. Longworth was responsible for christening the vessel by smashing a champagne bottle on the bow moments before the sub began her slide to the sea. The Theodore Roosevelt was not the first vessel Mrs. Longworth had christened. In February 1902, 18-year-old Alice, accompanied by President and Mrs. Roosevelt, had launched the Meteor, the racing yacht of German Kaiser Wilhem II, at a New York City shipyard.
Given the 56-year gap between the two christenings, Mrs. Longworth may have been overconfident in her ability to break a bottle on the steel bow of a very large ship. After all, she had done this before. “I know about these things” she advised the Navy. “Hell, I launched a yacht for the Kaiser.”13 Retaining all the spunk of the teenager she had been in Newport, she declined the opportunity to practice the procedure.
On the day of the ceremony, Mrs. Longworth wore a stylish dress, wide-brimmed hat, pearl necklace, and white gloves. Some 10,000 people had gathered for the launch. On the launch platform, Deputy Secretary of Defense Thomas Gates Jr. gave the primary address, a Navy chaplain offered the prayer, and the Navy Band played the National Anthem. The submarine’s bow was covered by a colorful canvas emblazoned with patriotic red and white stripes. In its center was a circular blue field with 13 white stars. One white star was in the very center of the blue field; this was Mrs. Longworth’s target. The Theodore Roosevelt was ready for launching.14
Mrs. Longworth spoke the traditional words for this event: “In the name of the United States of America, I christen thee Theodore Roosevelt.” A shipyard worker released the trigger to begin the submarine’s slide down the building ways and into San Francisco Bay.15
The ribbon-bedecked christening bottle she held was encased in a metal cage to protect her eyes from flying shards of glass. Mrs. Longworth took the bottle by the neck and gave a mighty swing at the bow. The practice session she had declined now had its consequences.
She missed.16
As 6,000 tons of submarine began to move away from her, she tried again. She threw the bottle at the colorful bow covering and the submarine behind it. Accounts differ on the success of her second attempt, but the bottle eventually did break. The Theodore Roosevelt was properly christened.
As the crowd cheered and nearby boats sounded their whistles, Mrs. Longworth watched her father’s namesake slide into the water. “There it goes!” she said. “Hooray, hooray, hooray!” She turned to the admirals and civilian officials surrounding her on the platform. “It was thrilling, thrilling, thrilling!”17
The next day Mrs. Longworth returned to her home in Washington, presumably finished with submarines and ship christenings. She passed away in February 1980 at the age of 96. The USS Theodore Roosevelt would serve the nation for 21 years, making 17 strategic-deterrent patrols to preserve peace during the Cold War. The Navy decommissioned the submarine in February 1981, one year after Alice’s death.
And the shipyard never allowed another sponsor to skip the christening practice session.
1. “The Social World: Miss Roosevelt Attends Two Cotillions,” The (Washington, D.C.) Evening Star, 5 September 1903.
2. “Goes to Bottom in Submarine Boat,” The Boston Globe, 11 September 1903.
3. “Submarine Boat Accident,” The New York Times, 30 April 1902.
4. “Submarine for Roosevelt,” The New York Times, 10 August 1905.
5. Submerged endurance depended on speed. At full speed, A-class subs could remain submerged for four hours. At slow speed, the boat could remain underwater all day; see “Defect in the Plunger,” The New York Times, 22 August 1905.
6. “Miss Roosevelt Under Sea,” The Washington Post, 11 September 1903.
7. “Goes To Bottom in Submarine Boat.”
8. “President Not to Dive,” The New York Times, 13 August 1905.
9. “Submarine for Roosevelt.”
10. The New York Sun, 26 August 1905. For the “300 dives” number see The New York Times, 22 August 1905.
11. “Roosevelt Dives in the Plunger,” The New York Times, 26 August 1905.
12. “He Maneuvers the Vessel Himself and Is Greatly Pleased,” The New York Times, 26 August 1905.
13. “Bay Yard Launches Atom Sub,” San Francisco Examiner, 4 October 1959.
14. “Bay Yard Launches Atom Sub.”
15. U.S. Navy, Mare Island Naval Shipyard launching program, USS Theodore Roosevelt, SSBN 600, September 1959
16. “Big Stick A-Sub Goes Down Ways,” Oakland Tribune, 4 October 1959. One account says she hit the bow but only dented the metal cage; the bottle inside the cage failed to break. Another says that she failed on both attempts and a Theodore Roosevelt crewman hauled in the bottle, which was on a lanyard, and broke it on the submarine.
17. “Bay Yard Launches Atom Sub.”
