Rear Admiral George Wallace Melville, U. S, Navy, was more than an Arctic explorer and hero. He was a picturesque character and great naval engineer who held the office of Engineer-in-Chief of the United States Navy for a longer period of time—sixteen years—than any other naval officer in the history of the United States.
Admiral Melville’s great practical genius not only enabled him to design propulsion machinery which made United States naval vessels famous, but it also won for him recognition as one of the world’s outstanding authorities on steam propulsion.
The propulsion machinery in more than 150 different U. S. naval vessels, with over 1,000,000 horsepower, was designed, constructed, or installed under his guiding genius. Of course that is not much when compared with the accomplishments during World War II, but at his period of life it was a great achievement.
Physically, he was large of stature and strong of body. Even when advanced in years he was noted for his great physical strength because he was endowed with a broad chest, massive shoulders, tremendous arms, and powerful fists.
Admiral Melville’s high forehead, widely separated penetrating eyes, prominent nose, and large ears were symbolic of his courage, intellectual capacity, broadmindedness, and leadership.
At the age of 38 his hair began to gray and thin out so that as he advanced in years his dome shaped head with its flowing white hair on the back and sides, shaggy white beard, and bushy white mustache made him look like an old Viking.
Edmund Clarence Stedman, the poet, made the observation that Admiral Melville only needed “a trident to transform him into Neptune riding over the waves.”
When Kaiser Wilhelm II was making a collection of national types for his private gallery he commissioned a German artist to come to the United States to paint the portrait of a man who typified American manhood and strength. After a four months’ search the German artist wrote to the Kaiser that the women in the United States were distinctly American, but the men were physical weaklings.
Not long after sending to the Kaiser that disparaging report on American manhood this artist was invited to the annual dinner of the Gridiron Club of Washington. He was assigned to a table with a seat opposite Admiral Melville.
When this German portrait artist looked across the table and beheld Melville he became so excited and demonstrative, because Melville was the type of American he was looking for, that members and guests at the dinner thought it was one of the staged stunts for which the Club is famous.
Since Admiral Melville could be as stubborn as a mule, the German artist had a difficult time before he consented to sit for a portrait painting.
This great man, whose portrait was labeled “America” by Kaiser Wilhelm II, was a source of inspiration to a group of girl art students at the Corcoran Museum Art School of Washington. Unknowingly, every afternoon as he walked by the museum, he served as a model for these art students who were doing a painting of Shakespeare’s mythical sovereign of Britain—King Lear.
Even though he could inspire art students and young naval officers who were his assistants, the Admiral was not without human faults.
His active, fertile mind made him progressive. His caution and common sense brought out his conservatism. This latter characteristic is illustrated by his ideas on submarines.
Of course the first submarines of the United States Navy were built when Melville was Engineer-in-Chief, but he was not thoroughly sold on this type of craft, for as late as April, 1901, he expressed the opinion that “it is high time those who believe in the efficiency of the submarine should be compelled to make good a few of their promises....If the boat has any military or strategic value, we should change our policy of ship construction, for nothing could justify the building of so many battleships if the submarine possessed even a portion of the advantages that her advocates claim.”
Once Melville made up his mind, he seldom changed it. He always pushed his ideas with bull-dog tenacity.
When faced with great obstacles, which might cause some men to shrink into the background, Melville would continue to push on and never seem to worry about the future. With his strong, melodious voice he might even sing to cheer up the hapless, as he often did during those soul trying months on the ill-fated Jeannette in the icefields of the Arctic, and on the Lena Delta.
Melville was always fearless in the performance of what he believed was his duty and to the best interests of the United States, even though he sometimes got aboard the wrong vessel.
Everyone who knew him recognized that it was his dauntless courage, alert mind, mechanical genius, and self reliance which made him ready for any emergency.
With lightning speed, in stern resolute language, he would resent a wrong with extraordinary quick and decisive speech.
And yet, underneath his gruff mannerism lay hidden a steadfast loyalty to alert, competent, and loyal fellow officers, since he was always ready to acknowledge the achievements of others. Those who understood him, and who worked with him day after day, found him kind at heart. His habit of addressing a person as “brother” reflected his inward friendly spirit toward man in spite of his outward irascible disposition.
What was the background of this bold spirit, one might ask.
Rear Admiral Melville came from a Scottish family of religious martyrs and reformers, naval officers, and defenders of human rights, such as Sir John Melville and James Melville who died for their faith; Andrew Melville who, when reminded by James I that he was a royal vassal, retorted to the king: “Sirrah, ye are God’s silly vassal”; and Sir James Melville who was the first Lord of the British Admiralty when Admiral Sir William E. Parry was directed to proceed through Baffin’s Bay.
On the cold wintry day of January 10, 1841, Rear Admiral Melville was born in New York City, the son of Sarah Douther Wallace of Manhattan, and of Alexander Melville, a Scottish born chemist who had graduated from St. Andrews University.
Melville attended Public School No. 3 of New York City, and later graduated from Brooklyn Polytechnic Institute. This education he topped off with an advanced course in mathematics at an academy in Brooklyn, N. Y., which was conducted by the Christian Brothers.
After completing this course in mathematics he went to work for John Binns, who operated an engineering works in East Brooklyn, N. Y. Here he remained until he joined the Navy on July 29, 1861, as third assistant engineer.
Before embarking upon Melville’s career as Engineer-in-Chief, let us pause for a moment to look at the state of the Navy during the early 1880’s.
In 1880 the United States Navy had reached the bottom of its steady decline since the Civil War. The vessels were largely of wood construction. Their old cumbersome type of rigging aroused curiosity whenever they entered foreign ports. And a wag is reported to have said that their propulsion machinery was “one cylinder behind the practice of the world.”
The Secretary of the Navy, William H. Hunt, presented a statement on the needs of the Navy to Congress in 1881.
About a year later, August 5, 1882, Congress decided to consider the building of some new naval vessels. As a result, a Naval Advisory Board was appointed. Four months later the Board recommended the construction of one 4,000-ton steel cruiser, three 2,500-ton steel cruisers, and one 1,500-ton ironclad despatch boat.
These recommendations were submitted to Congress by the new Secretary of the Navy, William E. Chandler.
Acting upon these recommendations, on March 3, 1883, Congress authorized the construction of the cruisers Atlanta, Boston, and Chicago, and the despatch boat Dolphin.
In the summer of 1887, when Melville was the Navy’s engineering inspector at William Cramp & Sons Ship & Engine Building Company of Philadelphia, Charles H. Loring resigned as Engineer-in-Chief of the Navy.
As there were 44 chief engineers who were the senior of Melville in years of service, he was not supposed to be among the eligibles to succeed Loring.
William C. Whitney was the Secretary of the Navy at the time. He was seriously interested in the development of a new Navy. Whitney wanted a fleet second to none. He wanted the ships built from domestic plans. He was anxious to free the Navy from its tangle of conventional propulsion precedents. More than that, as a successor to Loring, he wanted someone who was bold, who was sound of judgment, who had practical mechanical experience, and who was a good executive.
All of these qualities Melville had, but so did some of the chief engineers who were his seniors in service.
To the great surprise of the old chief engineers, Secretary Whitney selected Melville because of the sterling qualities he had shown on the ill-fated Jeannette, and because he believed Melville had the courage to carry out his ideas on a new Navy.
Secretary Whitney talked the matter over with President Grover Cleveland. The President was impressed, and by recess appointment he made Melville Chief of the Bureau of Steam Engineering on August 8, 1887, with the relative rank of Captain.
Melville was not a diplomat. Instead, like all strong men of his type, he was frank, sincere, and direct. In fact his directness got him into trouble at the very beginning of his long career as Engineer-in-Chief because he pointed out that greater efficiency was necessary in the Engineers Corps.
Some malcontents asked Secretary Whitney to use his good offices to have Congress refuse the confirmation of Melville’s appointment. Instead Secretary Whitney brought Melville’s first report to the attention of President Cleveland. The President was moved by Melville’s courage and rugged honesty, for he said: “This is just the kind of man we want. I only wish we had more like him.”
As Chief of the Bureau of Steam Engineering, Melville demonstrated his talent as a good judge of ability and character for he made very few mistakes in selecting assistants. Once he selected a man, Melville gave him his full confidence and then left him to his work. Suggestions he would make, but only when he deemed them necessary, for he always took the stand, as he frequently remarked, that “I never send a boy to do a man’s job.”
Melville loved to get inventors and manufacturers of marine machinery to pit their brains against each other in friendly competition for the purpose of advancing marine engineering. His never ending quest for better and more economical propulsion machinery caused him to assign some of his brilliant assistants to make evaporation and calorimetric experiments, pump tests, experiments to determine the future possibilities of oil as a fuel, and countless other tests.
Shortly after Melville was appointed, Secretary Whitney asked him to prepare the propulsion machinery for a number of proposed vessels. Melville immediately surrounded himself with a group of brilliant Naval Academy graduates such as William Ledyard Cathcart and Walter Martin McFarland.
With these able assistants he broke a record without precedent by preparing the propulsion machinery plans for five proposed large naval vessels in six weeks of time.
That feat ended the Navy’s era of buying machinery plans from such firms as Humphrys, Tennant & Company of Deptford, England, and William Cramp & Sons Ship & Engine Building Company of Philadelphia.
Due to this change of policy, under Melville’s supervision the Bureau of Steam Engineering designed propulsion machinery with a total of 700,000 horsepower for 120 different naval vessels. Two of these vessels became famous because of their speed and system of propulsion. In fact Melville’s greatest achievement, as Engineer-in-Chief, was the designing of the triple screw propelling machinery of the cruisers Minneapolis and Columbia.
The specifications of these two cruisers called for 21 knots. William Cramp & Sons, builder of the hulls and engines of these two cruisers, cooperated with Melville to the full, for there was a bonus of $50,000 for each quarter knot the vessels developed in excess of 21 knots.
Both of these vessels, to the amazement and joy of Melville, proved to be more economical in propulsion than he had estimated. On her trial trip, November 18, 1893, the cruiser Columbia attained the speed of 22.8 knots for four consecutive hours.
As a result of many boiler tests conducted under Melville, the coast defense vessel Monterey was the first naval vessel larger than a torpedo boat to be equipped with light water tube boilers.
Melville designed the vertical engines of the ill-fated Battleship Maine. This was the first vessel of her class to be equipped with such engines.
The repair ship Vulcan, converted from the steamer Chatham, was Melville’s brainchild. This first repair ship was equipped with machine tools, cupola, forges, brass furnaces, and other facilities. She was manned with 100 skilled mechanics who were prepared to do an amazing number of different kinds of marine work.
Rear Admiral Melville also converted the Menemsha into a distilling ship known as the Iris. This vessel was equipped with a four-unit, triple effect distilling apparatus which eventually developed a capacity of 100,000 gallons of fresh water per day.
There is nothing unusual about these installations and conversions, for from his youth Melville had the capacity to think up new ideas and invent all sorts of mechanical devices, some of which he patented.
After his retirement from the Navy in 1903 he set himself up as a consulting engineer with offices in Philadelphia. As a consultant he was often called to Washington by the Navy Department. For example, during the week of March 3, 1912, he went to Washington to aid in the designing of engines for some new battleships. One day he worked far into the night with some young engineers. When they suggested that the particular problem they were working on could be put off until the next day, he replied, “I may be dead tomorrow, or I may never get a chance to work here again. Let’s do this now!”
About ten day later, March 17, 1912, the world was shocked and saddened by the news that the great naval engineer was dead.
Mr. Grupp was a professor at Webb Institute of Naval Architecture from 1922 to 1936, and is now Washington representative of a number of publications.
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THE DEAF BOS’N AND THE TAR
Contributed by CAPTAIN COLBY G. RUCKER, U. S. Navy
It seems that the Bos’n of the U.S.S. Wachuselts was growing deaf, was extremely sensitive about his infirmity, and went to considerable pains to conceal it. In order to receive the orders the Captain shouted to him from the bridge he took the precaution of keeping a special bluejacket at his side during all maneuvers, and after each order he was in the habit of turning to the bluejacket and asking, “What did he say?”
All went well for a spell until for some forgotten reason the Bos’n severely reprimanded and unjustly punished the bluejacket without taking the obvious precaution of replacing him in his special position of “hearer.” Smarting under his undeserved punishment the bluejacket swore vengeance, and strangely enough had the acumen to wait patiently for an appropriate occasion to take his revenge.
Considerable time went by and the Bos’n forgot all about the reprimand he had given the bluejacket. He found the bluejacket always on hand, always helpful, and always reliable and accurate. But the bluejacket had not forgotten and patiently awaited his opportunity.
At length the perfect opportunity arose. The Wachuselts was entering a drydock, the wind was strong downstream, and an ebb tide added to the difficulty of the situation. Just as the bow of the vessel crossed the sill of the drydock, the Captain desired some smart work on the lines and called from the bridge to the forecastle, “Look lively on number-one line!”
The Bos’n heard the Captain’s call but he did not understand the order. None the less he held up his hand and bellowed, “Aye, ave, Sir!” Then turning to his trusted bluejacket he asked in an aside, “What did he way?”
“Let go the starboard anchor,” answered the bluejacket.
“Let go the starboard anchor!” roared the Bos’n to his mate, who, after a questioning glance, tripped the pelican hook and the starboard anchor fell into the drydock with a crash. This placed the ship in as difficult a position as can be imagined.
The Captain on the bridge could only assume that an accident had taken place, and after a few well chosen comments he ordered, “Get that anchor up immediately!”
Again the Bos’n heard the Captain’s call; he heard the word “anchor,” but missed the rest of the order. But he raised his hand and cheerfully answered, “Aye, aye, Sir!” And again he asked the bluejacket, “What did he say?”
“Let go the port anchor,” quietly replied the bluejacket.
“Let go the port anchor!” bellowed the Bos’n to his mate who, now convinced that all hands had lost their minds, fell back upon the old adage that “orders are orders” and tripped the pelican hook to the port anchor which also fell away into the drydock with a smash.
By this time the Captain was beyond biting sarcasm and fell into seagoing profanity even the tenor of which cannot be indicated in print. The Bos’n, ever attentive to his commander’s wishes, for a third time raised his hand and answered, “Aye, aye, Sir.” He turned to the bluejacket with the unvarying question, “What did he say?”
This time the bluejacket with a malicious grin on his face answered, “He says, ‘Well done.’”
[The Proceedings will pay $5.00 for each anecdote submitted to and printed in, the Proceedings).