An impressive array of battleships, cruisers, and destroyers was gathered in San Francisco Bay for a major tactical exercise off the California coast, scheduled to commence the next day, 13 November 1933. But suddenly, signal lamps around the bay began flashing word that the exercise had been postponed. Soon, national ensigns on the ships were lowered to half-mast and a flag-draped coffin surrounded by a Marine honor guard appeared on the main deck of the battleship USS Nevada (BB-36). Rear Admiral Ridley McLean had been Commander Battleship Division 3 and was preparing his ships for the exercise when fatally struck down by a heart attack. Funeral services were held the next day with all the honors due McLean’s rank, including a 13-gun salute from the USS Pennsylvania (BB-38) as the Nevada steamed past on the first leg of a journey that would take the admiral to Arlington National Cemetery.
McLean had led a good naval life and certainly deserved the honors accorded him. As a young officer he had served in an ammunition ship during the Spanish-American War, in a gunboat during the Reyes Rebellion in Nicaragua, and on the staff of Rear Admiral Louis Kempff during the Boxer Rebellion in 1900 and the Philippine Insurrection of 1901–02. As a lieutenant commander, he made the famous around-the-world-voyage of the Great White Fleet in its flagship, the Connecticut (BB-18). And he was awarded the Navy Cross while commanding the battleship New Hampshire (BB-25) on convoy escort duty during World War I.
But none of those achievements would mark his legacy as effectively as one he accomplished with the pen rather than the sword. Ridley McLean proved to be a proficient writer early in his career. One of his articles, which appeared in the U.S. Naval Institute’s Proceedings in 1907, received considerable attention. The New York Post called it an “entertaining and enlightening discussion of the permanency of the enlisted force of the navy” and noted that “Lieut. McLean’s comments are attracting the attention, not only of naval officers generally, but of many Senators and Representatives, because of their frankness as well as the common-sense character of the recommendations.”
McLean had written that some of the “present [Navy] regulations are illogical,” citing numerous “distasteful” practices that caused so many sailors to leave the Navy at the end of their enlistments or by outright desertion. He decried the unnecessary curtailment of liberty, the needless adherence to afternoon musters, and even problems involving mandatory footwear (uniform shoes came only in full sizes, and worse, the most common sizes were frequently out of stock).
He warned that such irritants empowered the “kickers” (a contemporary term applied to frequent complainers) and had unnecessary negative effects on morale. Lieutenant McLean wrote that article with some authority, despite his junior rank. He knew a great deal about enlisted sailors because he had studied them carefully as he researched a book, first published in 1902, that would enjoy unusual longevity, becoming the Naval Institute’s best-selling book over more than a century and numerous subsequent editions. Today, Ridley McLean’s name may be known to few, but his legacy lives on in The Bluejacket’s Manual. Still a staple of naval education, it is every sailor’s introduction to the Navy and serves as a ready reference throughout their careers.