Sunrise over the Oregon coast on 6 June 1990 came at 0524. The crew of the USS New Jersey (BB-62) was already awake preparing for a challenging navigation up the Columbia River to Portland, Oregon. The transit from Long Beach, California, had been uneventful, but what would happen next could have been a game changer.
World War II-era Iowa-class battleships are big, displacing 60,000 tons, and, at 888’ in length with a draft of 40’, not the sort of vessel you typically take up a fast-moving river for more than 100 nautical miles. But that’s what Captain Ron Tucker and the crew intended to do that day: sail up the Columbia River shepherded by a pilot and local tugboats, to arrive in Portland for the city’s annual Rose Festival.
New Jersey was a proud warship that had seen service in every conflict from World War II through the Lebanese Civil War, earning 19 battle stars along the way. She completed her final operational deployment to the Persian Gulf in February 1990 and would be decommissioned in early 1991, so the run up to Portland would be a bittersweet end to a long and storied naval career.
The senior officer embarked on board the battleship that morning was Rear Admiral Paul Reason, U.S. Navy. As Commander, Cruiser-Destroyer Group 1, Admiral Reason sailed in New Jersey as commander of Battle Group Romeo for the 1989-90 deployment across the Pacific and Indian Oceans, and the tense run into the Persian Gulf.
Reason grew up in Washington D.C. and graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1965. A nuclear-qualified surface warfare officer, he sailed extensively throughout the Pacific and served as commanding officer of two combatants, including the nuclear-powered guided-missile cruiser USS Bainbridge (CGN-25). Between sea duty tours, he took on challenging assignments ashore including serving as naval aide to President Jimmy Carter, where he carried the nuclear football. Reason was comfortable in these waters and confident in the seamanship of the ship’s captain and crew.
Astoria, Oregon, sits at the mouth of the Columbia River, facing Megler, Washington across the river. Joining the two towns is the Astoria-Megler Bridge, the longest continuous truss bridge in North America. Getting to the bridge is a 14-mile transit from the Pacific Ocean, past Cape Disappointment and the treacherous Columbia River Bar. That is where the river is at its widest as it pours 273,000 cubic feet of fresh water into the Pacific every second.
As Astoria awoke on June 6th, members of the environmental activist group Greenpeace were preparing for the New Jersey’s arrival. Eight members of the group nervously checked ropes, harnesses, and banners. Their mission was to block the New Jersey’s passage by securing themselves to the bridge at mid-span—more than 200 feet above the river—and lower themselves and their banners into the battleship’s path.
In a statement, Greenpeace noted that Oregon’s Clatsop County had voted to declare itself a “nuclear free zone” and their protest would ″prevent the USS New Jersey from endangering the health and safety of the citizens of Oregon and Washington by bringing nuclear weapons″ up the Columbia. Greenpeace acknowledged that they did not know if the battleship actually had nuclear weapons on board but were using the high-profile vessel as an opportunity to highlight their message of nuclear non-proliferation. For its part, the U.S. Navy would not confirm or deny the presence of nuclear weapons on its warships, but one might reasonably assume that a naval vessel preparing for retirement and sailing in U.S. waters in peacetime would not be armed with nukes.
I served on Admiral Reason’s staff as the assistant intelligence officer—a role with significant responsibilities during an operational deployment, but of limited utility on a ship near decommissioning sailing to an U.S. port. The advantage afforded a junior officer serving on a flag staff is the opportunity to work with a group of highly experienced senior officers from a variety of warfare specialties in close proximity to an admiral. For this trip, the admiral’s responsibilities would be largely representational with few operational worries—except perhaps for that day.
Captain Tucker’s navigation around Cape Disappointment and through the approaches to Astoria went as planned, but “all stop” was called as the New Jersey approached the Astoria-Megler Bridge. Looking out from the flag bridge, we saw Greenpeace demonstrators now hanging from the span, some with banners that read ″Nuclear Free Seas.″ Local law enforcement was on scene but for their own safety declined to attempt to pull the climbers up. So, for the moment the U.S. Navy and Greenpeace were in a standoff: a warship holding station in treacherous waters, and environmental activists, likewise in perilous positions.
The admiral, captain, and local authorities worked the problem in real time. On the flag bridge some of us on the staff grumbled out loud about the protestors, citing a lack of patriotism and respect. In particular, some asked, what was the point of such a high-risk stunt? As importantly, imagine young sailors and Marines, ready for liberty in a party town, and a bunch of 'tree huggers' blocking the way!
Admiral Reason had a different perspective: “We fight for this group’s right of free speech. This is what sets us apart—we’re protectors of those rights.” I was caught a bit off guard. In a calm, commanding counter to the conventional wisdom, which was something close to “cut their ropes,” the admiral reminded us that we had raised our hands to support and defend the Constitution of the United States. He undergirded the sanctity of free speech, pointing out that these Americans were not the enemy and that we—the more powerful force—could pause for a moment to let them have their say, which we did. His decency came from a place of strength and confidence in what was right, fair, and just in the American experiment, and he counseled us with a smile that won us over.
After that pause, during which risks were weighed and accepted, the captain got us back underway toward the bridge. The activists, seeing our approach, quickly scrambled up their ropes to give us way. No doubt there was some salty language from the deck as we sailed under the bridge, but at least we were back on track.
Imagine if the New Jersey had not paused and instead continued under the bridge without regard to the protestors, or if law enforcement attempted to force the issue from the bridge, or if the protestors had attempted to damage the ship. In this case, cooler heads prevailed on all sides. No injuries, no damage, and messages were allowed to be sent. Greenpeace spokeswoman Cynthia Rust said after the event, ″We feel our protest was a huge success. Our intention was not to endanger the vessel or endanger the climbers.″ Fair enough. We never learned what happened to the protesters who faced criminal trespassing charges as well as federal charges of violating the 200-yard safety zone around a ship. It would not be surprising if the charges were dropped.
I have not seen Admiral Reason since 1996 when he made an official visit to Moscow where I was serving as assistant naval attaché. By then he had put on his fourth star and was the Commander, U.S. Atlantic Fleet. We never spoke of the events at the Astoria-Megler Bridge, and I certainly never asked him about other questions of race, justice, and free speech—topics not up for discussion while in uniform during his visit. Still the Astoria-Megler Bridge came to my mind while observing the events unfolding on the national scene the past two weeks. The lessons in crisis management, leadership, and tolerance informed and refreshed my own leadership philosophy thirty years ago and while the context today is more complex, many of those lessons still apply. Admiral Reason’s words and example made a strong, positive impression on me, and likely many others over the course of his career. They are a remarkable legacy.