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The Fleet Rehabilitation and Modernization (FRAM) program was bom on Wednesday, 11 November 1958, at about 1100. Place of birth: Secretary of Defense Neil H. McElroy’s office in the E-ring of the Pentagon. But FRAM did not become a legitimate baby until the next day, when Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Arleigh A. Burke, U. S. Navy, certified it as such with a directive to his deputy chief for logistics, Vice Admiral Ralph E. Wilson, U. S. Navy: “Rollo, I want this program to go ahead as rapidly as possible. Appoint a project officer to run it, give him all the authority he needs to do the job, and if he doesn’t perform, then chop his head off.” That same afternoon, Admiral Wilson called me into his office and asked me to take the job; I took it.
The objectives of the program were to buy time for new ship construction, and push back the impending block obsolescence of the 800 or so ships (about 300 of these were destroyers) in the active fleet that were built during World War II.
New construction had not kept pace with the replacement requirements for the bulk of that rapidly aging surface force. Although some other ship types would be affected by FRAM (submarines, tenders, and Essex-class aircraft carriers), our main concern was the destroyers because of their large numbers. New aircraft carriers (For- restal class) were already coming on line, and nuclear- powered submarines were beginning to replace the older diesel boats.
As head of the destroyer-cruiser section of the Fleet Maintenance Division (Op-43), I knew full well that ship modernization in the 1950s was a ‘‘sometimes thing.” Each year, a priority list of modernization items would be prepared for incorporation into ships as they came up for a major shipyard overhaul. Because there was seldom enough money to fund the entire priority list, only the most urgent items were completed, although new equipment for less important needs might be stocked on the shelves, awaiting installation. Considering the fact that ships usually entered the yards for overhauls every two or three years, it was obvious that many desirable modernization features would never be incorporated. The same criteria held true for repair work; only the more urgent items were accomplished. The result was a rapid deterioration in the fleet’s material condition. Few were satisfied with this state of affairs but saw no way to get around the “budgetary realities” that were sending the material readiness of our fleet into a downward spiral.
Thus, FRAM came along at one of those periods of modem naval history when the time was ripe for new ideas and change. Yet this concept of rehabilitation and modernization for older vessels was not totally without precedent. First of all, the Navy had recently converted many World War II-era submarines into the superior “Guppy” class, with improved equipment and capabilities. We had also taken two or three older cruisers and had modernized them into vastly superior ships.
In addition, I had been involved with a 1957 program of rehabilitation for several Fletcher-class destroyers that were transferred to the Spanish Navy, and the modernization of several other Fletchers that were turned over to the West German Navy. With that experience, I saw firsthand the advantages—and feasibility—of placing neW equipment and weaponry in not-so-new hulls. In addition, the Navy was provided with valuable, detailed cost data for such conversion work. If not for this success with the Fletchers, it is doubtful that the Navy would have bough1 the FRAM concept later.
I wondered why can’t we do the same thing with our own destroyers? I started working on a scheme for the development of a “rotating reserve” of destroyers—pu;' ling some ships out of the active forces, placing them reserve, and modernizing them. My idea was circulate around OpNav and it ended up being nitpicked to death.
but a seed had been planted. Several months later, about March 1958,1 was directed to prepare a presentation to be given to the House and Senate Appropriations Committees. It was to be called “The Aging Fleet,” and its message would be simply that our ships were not getting any younger, and that something needed to be done in a hurry to give many of our ships new leases on life.
The “Aging Fleet” presentation emphasized that maintenance and modernization funds were inadequate for the needs of the 1958 fleet; it was still wearing out. Also, the shipbuilding program was insufficient to replace the large numbers of ships that would soon outlive their service hves. The recommendation, then, was to implement a large-scale modernization and rehabilitation program which could add eight to ten years to the service lives of °ur World War Il-built ships. The presentation included hack-up data to prove that, in the long run, the overall cost for maintenance would not increase; in some cases, it Would be less. Since no definite programs accompanied the presentation, no special funds were granted, although tome congressional committee members showed a passing •nterest in the modernization idea. Yet FRAM was not to become a reality until eight months later as the result of administrative action within OpNav.
In mid-summer of 1958, Admiral Burke was scheduled to host Secretary McElroy on board an aircraft carrier at tea. He asked that a briefing book be prepared, containing [he data presented to the congressional committees in The Aging Fleet.” He showed this information to Secretory McElroy, who agreed that something should be done. He suggested to Admiral Burke that his case would be toore convincing if Secretary of the Navy Thomas S. toates appointed a special civilian committee to survey ships of the Atlantic and Pacific fleets to confirm their deteriorating conditions. For some obscure reason, it appeared that the testimony of civilians would be more believable. I suppose there was the suspicion that naval officers sometimes stretched the truth to get what they wanted I can’t say that I completely disagreed.
As soon as Admiral Burke returned to Washington, w eels began to turn. A special committee was appointed, consisting of Dr. Ralph Edward Gibson, director of Johns Hopkins Applied Physics Laboratory; Mr. William E. Blewett Jr., president of Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company, and Mr. C. H. Quackenbush, operating manager of States Marine Corporation. The committee (later called the Blewett Committee because Mr. Blewett’s name was the tirst signature to appear on the final report) assembled in Washington in August 1958, where Commander Carl B. Ihli, U. S. Navy, later the FRAM project officer for the Bureau of Ships (BuShips), and I were assigned to brief them and accompany them on their tour of the fleet. After two days of intensive briefings in Washington, we went to Norfolk, New London, Newport, Long Beach, and San Diego. At each place, the committee conferred with type commanders and inspected a representative number of ships of each type. The group ended its travels in New York, where it went to the offices of Newport News Shipbuilding to digest what had been learned, and to write a report.
Dr. Gibson, not given to off-the-cuff opinions or evaluations, volunteered to write the report. He was meticulous, precise, and chose his words carefully. He wanted to be completely accurate, and present practical solutions
and recommendations. He took well over a month to write the report, and periodically (at least twice a week) called Commander Ihli and me to his office in Silver Spring to discuss the ramifications of the comments and recommendations being made. It should be emphasized that neither Gibson nor the other members of the committee needed prompting from us. They had seen the material conditions that existed in our active fleet ships, and were convinced that something had to be done to improve them.
So it was that an astute scientist, a practical shipbuilder, a shipping executive, and two enthusiastic naval officers collaborated in drawing up recommendations to do something about the poor material condition of the ships of the fleet. The idea that later became FRAM was only one of five or six recommendations that the special committee made. These were, in order of priority: build new ships, give more time for maintenance, accomplish more extensive overhauls, provide more money for maintenance, institute better training for maintenance personnel, or-—the last recommendation—if enough new ships cannot be built in the time required, then create a large-scale modernization and rehabilitation program to fill the gap.
About the last week of October 1958, Dr. Gibson completed the report and sent it to Secretary of the Navy Gates. Secretary Gates then called a big meeting, and, after thanking everyone for their work, he announced that the recommendation to modernize the fleet was the one that struck him as the quickest and best solution. He asked individual members of the committee if they truly believed it would work; each answered in the affirmative. Then Secretary Gates invited the committee to attend another meeting with Secretary of Defense McElroy, set for Armistice Day, 11 November.
Admiral Burke suggested that only one officer should accompany the committee to the meeting with Secretary McElroy; under no circumstances was that officer to enter the office with the committee members. He wanted the meeting to be 100% civilian, since it was Secretary McElroy who had suggested that a civilian committee be appointed. I was that “one officer.” I waited in the anteroom of Secretary McElroy’s office for the duration of that
pivotal Armistice Day meeting. When the group emerged from the office, Mr. Blewett looked at me and said, “Eli, you have a program.”
On 13 November, Rear Admiral Denys W. Knoll, U. S. Navy, who was director of the fleet maintenance division, called me into his office late in the afternoon and directed that a preliminary “wrack-up” of the program (still no name) be prepared and readied for presentation to Admiral Burke’s budget committee on Monday afternoon. The required information included: types of ships to be modernized, number of each type, what modernization features would be incorporated in each type, estimated cost of modernization and rehabilitation of each type, and a tentative phasing schedule to complete the entire program. The program was so new (less than three days) that hardly anyone outside of a few high-level BuShips officers and a few senior officers in OpNav even knew about the program. No written directive existed.
A few telephone calls and personal contacts within OpNav produced reactions ranging from, “We’ll give you all the help you need as soon as you know the outlines of the program—what is it called, anyway?” to “Don’t bother me, boy, I’ve got my own problems and programs to worry about.” The only cooperation I could get on that frustrating day was a reluctant agreement by some of my opposite numbers in BuShips to meet with me on Saturday morning, 14 November. That would be three days after initial approval of the program.
We met on Saturday, and after an outline had been given, I received a reply that went something like this: “Do you honestly expect us to call in people over the weekend and pay them overtime to work on something f°r which you have no written authority, that has no name, or mission, or objective? And besides, you don’t even know what you want to do to what, or when.” 1 had to agree that it would be impossible to gather and collate the data that Admiral Knoll had asked to be presented on Monday• There was that sinking feeling of failure, frustration, and inadequacy that is so common among Pentagon “Indians when the “chiefs” order them to do the impractical or impossible.
That same day, I attended a U. S. Naval Academy Class of ’38 cocktail party at the Gun Factory Officers’ Club in the Washington Navy Yard, where I poured out my anger and frustration to my friend and classmate Captain (later Vice Admiral) Phillip A. Beshany, who was in one of the divisions of Op-03 (Fleet Operations and Readiness). Phil unhesitatingly offered to help and proposed that we get some people together in the Pentagon on Sunday morning and attack the problem.
That night, he and I called a few key people we knew, who in turn called other key people they knew. These telephone calls produced a knowledgeable group of about 12 officers, representing key sections of OpNav and experience with all major types of ships. It was indeed encouraging and exhilarating to find a competent and enthusiastic group in the Fleet Maintenance Division offices at 0900 on a Sunday morning that was ready, willing, and able to assist. Each one of them came voluntarily. There was no arm twisting. On that day, I saw professionalism at work.
Our meeting on the fourth day (15 November) began with a presentation of what would be needed to carry out the program. Captain Ray M. Pitts, U. S. Navy, from Op-31 (Antisubmarine Warfare) was the senior officer present, and assumed informal chairmanship of our impromptu committee. We split into groups according to expertise in various ship types (destroyers, cruisers, carriers, submarines, amphibious, and auxiliaries) with the objective of deciding upon a list of modernization features for each type, approximate costs for each, and the number of each type to be included in the program. By 2000 that evening, we had the outlines of a program—something we could hang our hats on. We had compiled a list of about 350 ships to be included in the program at an estimated cost of between $1.5 and 2 billion (the entire Navy budget at the time was $12 billion). Ships would be removed from the active forces, placed in the special category of “in commission in reserve,” FRAMmed, then put back into service. Among the destroyers, our Gearing and Sumner classes would go through modernization, while the older Fletcher and Benson classes would be passed by. FRAM was starting to take shape.
By the afternoon of the next day, handwritten flipcharts had been prepared on each ship type, plus various charts on the overall program. These were presented to the budget committee in the afternoon; information on costs Was omitted, pleading lack of time. Using estimated numbers can be an extremely dangerous practice, because the first figures are generally the ones you are stuck with, no matter how inaccurate they turn out to be. Fortunately, little was said about cost at that presentation.[1] When the Presentation had been completed, it was more or less agreed that we should go ahead, and that the program should be formalized. The program still had no official name or written directive, although I had voiced the term “Fleet Modernization and Rehabilitation Program.” Looking back, though, “FMAR” would have been a little awkward. Admiral Burke closed the meeting with a verbal directive to Vice Admiral Wilson to select two or three ships (destroyers and submarines), Find some money somewhere, and get started as quickly as possible. It was almost as if the Lord had said, “Let there be FRAM!” By reprogramming maintenance funds, money was found, and by March 1959, two destroyers (one in Long Beach Shipyard, one in Boston Shipyard) plus one submarine (at Pearl Harbor Shipyard) were being worked on.
Six days had passed since Secretary McElroy had given his approval; the program was now under way. This was the remarkable thing about FRAM: it went from a tentative recommendation, to approval, to detailed planning, to execution all in five months. Fiscal year 1959 was already four months old before the program came up for consideration. Normal phasing of a new program generally took 18 months from proposal to implementation.
As the program's first special project officer, 1 was involved in much planning and discussion with the staffs of fleet and type commanders. Together, we prepared and promulgated a schedule for the program, worked out detailed planning, and by March 1959, FRAM was a reality with money and a name.
FRAM accomplished a few firsts. It was the first program since World War II to attempt a large-scale modernization and rehabilitation of ships in the active fleet. FRAM introduced the first helicopter facilities in large numbers of U. S. destroyers, and the first standoff antisubmarine weapon (ASROC). These destroyers were also among the first to have operational towed sonars, and the powerful SQS-23 sonars. Finally, FRAM proved that any hull in good condition could be modernized and given extended service life.
I left the FRAM program in June 1959, after spending nearly two years helping to plan, prepare and execute it. Later, I was fortunate enough to command one of the program’s products, the FRAMmed destroyer tender USS Sierra (AD-18). From my personal involvement with the program, I learned one very important truth: few things happen by accident. People make them happen, not organizations—they only provide the framework within which competent people function. Without good people, there is no worthwhile organization. In retrospect, I like to think that had I not done the things I did, supported by the good efforts of countless others, FRAM may very well have foundered on the shoals of indifference. We would have been no better off than the proverbial log covered with ants, floating downstream with each ant thinking that he was at the helm.
Captain Vinock. a 1938 graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy, served in cruisers, destroyers, battleships, and a destroyer tender during a career that spanned 34 years. His shore-based assignments included chief of the U. S. naval mission to Venezuela and Commander, Destroyer Squadron Eight. At the time of his appointment as special project officer for the FRAM program, he was assigned to OpNav as head of the destroyer- cruiser section of the fleet maintenance division (Op-43).
[1] Depth charges were unceremoniously removed as a weapon system for destroyers that presentation. As the list of weapon systems (new and old) that would be 'ncorporated in destroyers was being presented. Admiral Burke interrupted at the •"ention of depth charges and said, "Who included those things?” There was an ehibarrassing pause. Without comment. 1 drew a line through "depth charges,” turned toward the admiral and said, “Sir. depth charges have been removed.” Good,” he said, and that was that.