Many graduates are troubled as they hear that the old Academy has undergone some modifications. In this they are not unlike their college brothers. It is hard for those long absent to believe that changes will not result in a loss of character and individuality. Yet compare the Navy of today with that of twenty-five years ago. How few of the ships of 1904, even with changed names, still remain in commission. And who would think it wisdom to hold to the same ships, the same equipment, and the same personnel—so far as this is possible? Even the colleges that are preparing the youth, not for any particular profession, but for life, by giving them a strong foundation of culture, have vastly changed. Greek has gone by the board, and there is much greater attention to the social sciences and to modern history. How could the Naval Academy, in the light of recent developments in the Navy, which is preparing midshipmen for duty on ships in which electricity now plays such a part, preparing midshipmen for assignments either related or entirely devoted to aviation, do aught else than change to meet the need? How, furthermore, could the Naval Academy, if since the World War it has caught a somewhat broader vision of the mission of the Navy, remain unconcerned as if it had no responsibility?
It happens that on June 30 I shall have completed twenty-five years of continuous service at the Naval Academy. Professors do not have silver anniversaries, but every veteran—even though his campaigns have been limited to the classroom with its struggles against the ignorance and hard-headedness of youth—enjoys looking back and reflecting.
OLD AND NEW BUILDINGS
Mahan in his Front Sail to Steam rejoices in the fact that his acquaintance with the Navy began with the sailing sloops and frigates, such as upheld the American honor in the War of 1812, and progressed into the marvelous steam cruisers and battleships that won the Spanish War. With a keen interest in naval tradition I have had reason similarly to be grateful that much of the old Academy was still in existence when I took my examination to qualify as an instructor on June 7, 1904. I have been a part, even though a very small part, of both the old and the new. Fort Severn, with its walls seven feet thick, built in 1809 to guard the capital of Maryland and a seaport which was then of no small consequence, stood as firmly as the day it was completed, and served as the Academy gymnasium. "Main Quarters" with the Hospital, dating from Admiral Porter's time, still occupied its position to the east or northeast of the present Officers' Club. All of the Brigade of Midshipmen, as it was then known, messed there; but in the fall of 19134 the Second Battalion (there were only two) on returning from leave was moved to the northeast wing of Bancroft Hall. As the Academic Group had not yet been begun, English, like Mathematics and Modern Languages, had its recitations in Annex C, a long frame structure that ran parallel to Chauvenet Walk, its rear looking out upon the river. Dahlgren Hall, Isherwood Hall, and the Officers' Club were completed and in use. The old Armory standing on the site of the present reservoir was to serve for several years as the chapel. The present Chapel had been begun and during the first year of its construction presented the curious spectacle of a building that was being built from the top down: that is, the great concrete dome, weighing 3,000 tons (the outer dome of terra cotta is a mere shell separated by a wide air space), was erected on eight exceedingly tall shafts of ferro-concrete, six by two and one-half feet in cross section, which carried the entire weight. It was not until the concrete dome was finished that the work of raising the light brick walls and the inner plaster walls began.
Before the Chapel was completed, General Horace Porter had discovered the body of John Paul Jones in Paris, and the hero who had been denied the expense of a funeral by the American minister in 1792 was given fitting honors when his remains were identified 113 years later. They were brought to America by a special squadron and on being received at the Naval Academy with appropriate ceremonies were placed in a small brick mausoleum, built for the purpose, between the Administration Building and Lovers' Lane. In April, 1906, the formal exercises connected with Jones were held, and President Roosevelt, Ambassador Jusserand, General Porter, and Governor Warfield were the speakers. Then the casket was moved to Bancroft Hall, being placed under the stairway leading to Memorial Hall. But John Paul Jones, adventurous to the end, would not rest until he was provided with a suitable resting place, which was found in the Crypt of the Chapel when Congress appropriated $75,000 for the purpose.
One by one the old buildings were demolished as the new were available. Even old Fort Severn in 1909 was razed to the ground, preparations being made so quietly and the work done so quickly that when outraged protesters of the Daughters of the American Revolution and other patriotic societies arrived on the scene they found nothing more than foundations to plead for. Still there was the old frigate Santee, the station ship where many a midshipman offender of ancient times experienced his thirty or sixty days of sea service, and where the officer in charge of the ships and his family resided. She was made the subject of poetry and romance by her adventurous crew, but few or none had reason for feeling so tenderly as I—that, however, is another story. In 1912, having been pronounced insanitary, she was ordered to be vacated by both midshipmen and the officer's family, and on one April morning of that year she was discovered to be resting on bottom, sunk at her moorings, the tide gurgling through her half open ports.
Thus the yard has come to have the appearance which we find today, when the only survivors of the old Academy consist of the two guardhouses that flank either side of the Maryland Avenue entrance. Here the candidate reporting to be sworn in may well pause, for in many a case he has caught up with his father. Here the sire paused, looking at the same bricks, the same river, half hidden but glittering through the trees, and had the same triumphant feeling as, head high in the air, shoulders thrown back, he entered upon his naval career.
INCREASED NUMBER OF MIDSHIPMEN
An emergency was recognized as existing after the Spanish-American War, when, in consequence of the many new ships, the officer personnel was insufficient. To meet this, Congress passed in March, 1903, a bill doubling the number of appointments, allowing for each senator and representative not one but two midshipmen. This provision was to continue for ten years. As a result the enrollment of the Naval Academy, which in 1902-03 was 393, had grown in 1904-05 to 823. This was bound to bring changes in organization and methods of instruction. Many of the officers, however, were perturbed, as indicated by a remark of a colleague of mine, Lieutenant "Pete" Russell: "Really, what can one do with this huge plebe class of 297 midshipmen? Fourteen in a section is an impossible number. Eight is the proper size, and with such one could hope to do something." If he had lived to see five midshipmen allowed for each senator and congressman in the World War, and the plebe class that in 1918 flooded into the Academy, numbering 963, he might have had added cause for reflection. Six hundred has been the approximate size of the plebe class during the last two years, and this has given ambitious instructors perhaps quite enough to work with.
CHANGES IN CURRICULUM
All candidates who applied for admission to the Academy twenty-five years ago were examined in (1) punctuation and capitals, (2) spelling, (3) grammar, (4) geography, (5) United States history, (6) world's history, (7) arithmetic, (8) algebra, and (9) geometry. Since five or six of these subjects are among those usually taught in the lower schools, the youth who had left them so far behind as to be graduating from high school, or to be finishing his first or second year in college, was far from being ready to take the examination. A large number of special preparatory schools made it their business to cram for examinations and the more experienced masters reaped a golden harvest. This continued until 1920, when admission by certificate in lieu of examination was granted to those who were graduates of approved high schools or students in college, provided that their courses conformed with certain requirements laid down. In 1923 the regular examination, which still was given for those who could not qualify by certificate, was changed to correspond to the general requirements outlined by the College Entrance Examination Board. The elementary subjects were dropped and the subjects prescribed were very nearly what they are today: namely, English composition and literature, United States history, ancient history, algebra, geometry, and physics. The one further change came in 1925 when those entering by certificate were required to present not only a sufficient number of acceptable credits but also to pass what was known as a "substantiating examination"—a general examination in mathematics (algebra and geometry) and in English (composition and literature). On the introduction of the system of admission by certificate some Academy graduates were fearful that the institution would suffer from a lowering of standards. But inasmuch as the number of candidates passing the substantiating examination has run at times as low as 32 per cent their anxiety has been allayed.
In 1912 the old-time six-years' course of the midshipman, the last two years at sea, was reduced to four years, the diploma being followed immediately by a commission. This was a change not so much in study or training as in rank. Since it advanced by two years the time when the graduate might marry he regarded it as highly important.
"Semi-ans" and "ans" were abolished in 1923, and with the week in the term that had been devoted to each went the month of review, commonly dull and rather mechanical. The course in each branch was considerably extended, monthly examinations became more incisive, and in spite of the assistance of frequent short reviews the casualty lists were long enough to satisfy even the most relentless.
Naval education in general has gone forward by leaps and bounds during the period we are considering; probably the greatest gain has consisted in the establishment of the Postgraduate School at the Naval Academy and the special schools such as the Submarine School at New London and the Aviation School at Pensacola. Every young officer has the opportunity to continue his study after graduation, and comparatively few can avoid it. In the Academy itself the most marked changes are due to the introduction of courses for the study of electricity, including radio, and of aeronautics. Thus the Department of Physics and Chemistry has become Electrical Engineering and Physics; Seamanship is Seamanship and Flight Tactics; and Marine Engineering and Naval Construction is now Engineering and Aeronautics. The Departments of Mathematics and Mechanics have become fused under the name of the former. The Department of English and Law, on transferring international law and military law to Seamanship, became the Department of English, which name it still retains, although fully half of its courses are in history. Since my activities have been particularly concerned with this department I trust I shall be pardoned if I dwell with some detail on the changes it has undergone.
In 1904 the study of English was largely the study of spelling, grammar, and rhetoric. To promote the cause of accurate spelling, each midshipman at the end of the week was supposed to turn in an official report recording his delinquencies, like the following:
SIR:
I respectfully state that, during the week ending October 4, I misspelled the following words:
don't, October 1.
too, October 1.
often, October 2.
despair, October 3.
Respectfully submitted, . . . .
Sometimes the careless speller was still careless, and failing to consult his dictionary, misspelled a word also in his spelling report. Then he was ordered to turn in a special spelling report which read like the following:
SIR:
I respectfully state that, in my report of misspelled words dated the fifth instant, I misspelled
the word written ten times herein, as follows:
despair despair despair
despair despair despair
despair despair
despair despair
Respectfully submitted, . . . .
In the study of grammar and rhetoric the class labored through three textbooks of rhetoric and two books of exercises dealing with words and sentences. A unique feature of the course was "Craig's Rules for the Use of Shall and Will," formulated by the head of the department two decades earlier and printed on a slip which was to be pasted in the textbook. It was not the application but the memorizing of the rules that apparently was deemed all important, and the midshipman looking for "dope" soon discovered that "Craig's Rules" were certain to appear in the monthly and also the semiannual examinations. There was an occasional short theme, but with no reading or study of literature it was a dull course.
In the study of naval history the course was limited to the achievements of the American Navy, and, in order to avoid the Sampson- Schley controversy, was stopped short of the Spanish-American War. Thus midshipmen graduated knowing nothing of Drake, Blake, Rodney, Suffren, Jervis, Nelson, Tegethoff, and Dewey. When naval history came to an end at the middle of the third-class year, the second term was devoted to English literature, one hour a week. There were fifteen exercises to cover the field, and as many of the assignments were on the lives of the authors, there was only a momentary glimpse of literature. It is so easy, however, for a later age to criticize. I wonder what the new generation will say of us.
The raising of the standard of entrance requirements has been a life-saver to the Department of English. When the changes of 1920-23 were effected we could presuppose on the part of the fourth-classman at least three years' study of English in the high schools, and many of them had had more. Accordingly we could give advanced work in composition and after two or three months change to a survey course in English literature. This begins with Malory, Spenser, and Bacon, includes three plays of Shakespeare, and does not end until we are reading the English and American authors of the present day. Naval history has been broadened so that it is a study of the sea power of all the principal nations and the influence of sea power upon history. This is followed by a substantial course in the political and social history of the United States. In the second term of the first-class year the climax is reached, so far as this department is concerned, when midshipmen are studying modern European history, beginning with 1789 and carrying it on till they are discussing the conditions and problems following the World War. Friday evenings are given to the department for public lectures, and the interest of the midshipmen is stimulated and broadened by listening to such speakers as the following (the schedule of 1929) : Professor Edward Raymond Turner, Johns Hopkins; Provost Charles Seymour, Yale; Professor James T. Shotwell, Columbia; Dr. Leo S. Rowe, Pan-American Union; Lieutenant Commander C. E. Rosendahl, U.S.N., commanding U.S.S. Los Angeles; Professor Stringfellow Barr, University of Virginia; Dr. Edmund Walsh, Georgetown; Professor William E. Lingelbach, University of Pennsylvania; Professor George H. Blakeslee, Clark University; Rear Admiral Gordon Campbell, R.N., and the Hon. Nelson T. Johnson, Assistant Secretary of State. Such a group of lecturers would be a source of pride to any institution.
CHANGES IN MIDSHIPMAN LIFE
Even in 1905 midshipmen were lamenting, as recorded in the Lucky Bag of that year, that old customs were disappearing: "Unofficial distinctions between classes have practically vanished. Class unity and class spirit are becoming more and more difficult of attainment." It was inevitable that some of the old must go when the enrollment was doubled or trebled, and also when this increased number was in turn trebled. Yet still the Academy goes on. There must be something of great vitality in the spirit that has weathered such extremes. Let me recount a few of the changes.
Affairs of honor or sharp misunderstandings have ceased to be settled by fights. In the old days an empty room in quarters served for the ring, and an upper-classman for the referee. The difference would be settled by light-weight gloves, and discolored eyes and bruised faces later revealed how strenuous had been the effort to reach a lasting peace. Often the combatants for two or three days would be turned in at sick bay before they returned to duty, the flimsy excuse of a fall being accepted by the understanding doctors. These sanguinary contests ended in 19o5 when much publicity and a serious court-martial followed a fight between a second-classman and a youngster. It went to nine or ten rounds, as I remember the story, without any real decision. At its conclusion the second-classman took a warm bath and turning in, went to sleep, a sleep from which he never roused.
Fights have ended, but boxing and almost every kind of intercollegiate sport have increased and flourished. In the old days the football team went to Philadelphia to play the Army, and the baseball team went alternate years to West Point. Otherwise, all contests were commonly on home grounds or waters, in contrast with the present plan of allowing basketball, boxing, swimming, water polo, lacrosse and every important athletic team to play at least one of their games away. Not of least importance in the education of midshipmen is the contact thus afforded with the students of colleges and the glimpses of their grounds and buildings.
The picturesque custom Of baptizing the class rings of the incoming first class came to an end five years ago. It chanced that the Class of 1925, who were the performers, was large and the water in the corner of Dewey Basin near the boat shed was crowded to the limit with the hundreds diving in at almost the same instant. A catboat on which many had climbed went down, and one midshipman was soon discovered by his classmates to be in need of assistance. Resuscitation proved ineffectual. In fact the doctors surmised that death had come from heart trouble. Forthwith the ceremony of putting on class rings became a private affair.
Many were the midshipmen of earlier days who studied the "tendencies" in their rooms and had the exhilaration of a smoke without detection, which was a double exhilaration. And almost equally many, sooner or later, were caught and given a heavy assignment of demerits. This little game proved of unfailing interest. It ended when Admiral Wilson became superintendent and all midshipmen were given the smoking privilege.
Christmas leave brought the biggest change. In my first experience as an instructor recitations continued up to 3 :30 P.M. Christmas Eve, and the regular study period was observed (supposedly) Christmas night. I could form some idea of the latter for we had a written exercise in naval history at eight o'clock the next morning. The same program followed New Year's Day and the morning after. During the week between, though drills were omitted, recitations continued. But let no plebe of today imagine that Academy and town in the old time knew nothing but gloom. Every midshipman had his Christmas box filled with goodies from home, and never was there such feasting for a week as in quarters. The "rag" formation Christmas morning, when the plebes might safely take unusual liberties, and when brilliant and most unexpected costumes were donned as the first class went about in early hours, supported by the band, to sing their songs, was an occasion of great hilarity. If midshipmen could not go away, every one came to them, mothers, sisters, and other people's sisters, until hotels and boarding houses in little Annapolis were crowded to the last degree and proprietors were in danger of becoming wealthy. Admiral Scales was the superintendent who changed it all by granting four days' Christmas leave. This meant the passing of many old-time customs, but no one protested except the boarding-house keepers. Admiral Wilson was a worse offender, for he increased the leave to ten days, and Christmas became the quietest season of the whole year in the yard. What has been the net result? There is the loss of many study days, not only during leave but after, for midshipmen on their return are dull and sleepy and require time before they again become normal. But the interruption is worth while; it relieves ennui, and the year does not seem quite so unending. I know there is a possibility that some of the commanders and lieutenant commanders may not agree with me in this and in what I am about to say further; nevertheless, I do not hesitate in affirming the belief that the Academy is a happier place today than it was in their day. There are fewer chronic "rhinos." There is not so much "frenching." One does not hear so often of the "prison walls" and the "chain gang." Of course, as all know, such words are not to be taken too seriously, but it was unfortunate that the joke should often persist after graduation with the young officers of the rank of ensign or junior lieutenant, who not infrequently would utter a prayer that they might never return to the academy for duty.
CONSERVATIVE TENDENCIES
Classes come and classes go but their language continues much the same. This was brought to my attention when writing the biography of Commodore George Hamilton Perkins, who came to distinction as a young officer serving under Farragut at New Orleans and Mobile Bay. In home letters, written during midshipman days, he announced early in the winter of 1853 that he knew he was going to "bilge"; and when the "semi-ans" were held he added that everyone had remarked that they were "stiffer than ever before." Today, seventy-six years later, midshipmen scholastically bankrupt have the same worry, expressing it in the same language, and occasionally one, like Perkins, is turned back a year so that he may have another chance. In the Lucky Bag of 1905 a glossary of unfamiliar terms is included and a single glance is sufficient to disclose how much fathers and sons are alike in their speech (definitions are unnecessary for readers of the PROCEEDINGS): "bat," "bone," "brace," "bust," "canned Willie," "Christmas tree" "date," "dewberry," "drag," "f rap the pap," "goldbrick," "grease," etc.
In this luxury-loving age midshipmen have maintained their simplicity to a degree that would be the envy and despair of many a college dean if he spoke his mind. In the early years of the period discussed the pay was $5oo a year; today it is $780. No one would think of the added 56 per cent as leading to extravagance when the increased cost of outfit, textbooks, uniforms, and everything else is considered. No midshipman has an automobile or motor boat in Annapolis, and without special permission he does not ride in one belonging to others. Years ago an occasional upper-classman had his own canoe, in which he would appear on fine spring afternoons, especially when there was a boat race to watch. But he has not this privilege today. During leave or at graduation he may drive his own fifty-dollar bargain or his father's $2,000 sedan, but during the regular academic year Spartan simplicity still prevails.
Many of the colleges have been troubled because of the wave of liberalism (or the approach to bestiality) and the corresponding decline of religious observance. Even "good old Yale," the bulwark of Congregationalism, after years of weighing the problem, has changed from compulsory to voluntary attendance at chapel, and the distance her students travel on Saturday and Sunday is limited only by the car, the gasoline, and the desire. Midshipmen report, even on a holiday, at each meal formation and on Sunday morning all go to chapel or to church in Annapolis. A few years ago one announced himself a Mussulman by conviction, as I recall the story, and requested that he be excused from attending any other service. The punishment fitted the crime; he was told he would have to read the Koran and demonstrate the thoroughness of his devotion by writing a long religious essay.
The Naval Academy has had two remarkable chaplains during my time, Chaplain Henry H. Clark, who served at this station altogether for nineteen years, and Chaplain Sydney K. Evans, who this spring has completed his twelfth year. Both have been a strong influence because they have made of religion something so cheerful, manly, natural, and far-reaching. It has been something externally healthy, and inwardly closely linked with a man's highest impulses and feeling for service. No matter what a midshipman's church was before he came to the chapel, he knew he would be welcome if he joined in worship. An unusual sight in a confirmation class was afforded a few years ago when a superintendent, his wife, and a captain who was head of a department, with other officers and midshipmen, went forward for confirmation. The most impressive celebration of the Holy Communion I have ever witnessed at any institution was that at the Naval Academy at seven o'clock, Easter morning, 1927. Seven hundred communicants, six hundred of them midshipmen, went forward to the altar rail. And the service of Easter morning of 1928 and of 1929 was each marked by a similar response. In 1927 the graduating class unanimously agreed that they would like to leave behind them something by which the class might be remembered, and presented the beautiful Tiffany window in the Chapel, north of the altar, entitled "The Commission Invisible." That a class on their twenty-fifth or fiftieth anniversary should make such a gift might be understood, but that, when diplomas were just in sight they should express such a warmth of feeling marked a new advance.
Twenty-five years have brought extensive changes at the Naval Academy. The old buildings have given way to new. Several officers who were midshipmen a quarter of a century ago, now as captains or commanders, have returned for duty as heads of departments. One who was a lieutenant or lieutenant commander about this time in the Department of Ordnance and Gunnery has lately been made admiral and is the commander in chief of the Battle Fleet. I wonder if officers are not more happy at being ordered to duty at the Naval Academy than they were some years ago. I feel certain that the staff of civilian professors has become much more truly a part of the Academy, and that several by their enthusiastic contribution to its life have shown that the class room is by no means the limit of their ideas and interest.
With the broadening influences that have come from the establishment at the Naval Academy of the Postgraduate School, the Experimental Station, the High-Power Radio Station, and the Naval Hospital, together with the extension of the courses in electricity, aeronautics, ordnance, English literature, and history, there has come a great increase of officers, professors, and midshipmen. The change has been almost like the merging of the small college into the university. Yet the midshipmen are still the nucleus. And in spite of the inevitable loss of much that made their life so attractive when everyone knew everyone else and when they could hold so generally to the picturesque customs of the previous half century, still the regiment of midshipmen can be safely relied on for a wholehearted devotion to the Naval Academy and to the old traditions. It is not too much to affirm that they have won nation-wide recognition for a superior manliness and power such as they have never had before.