Team Infidel
Forum Spin Doctor
New York Times
October 3, 2008
Pg. B2
By Patrick McGeehan
ABOARD THE INTREPID — Nearly two years after an embarrassing false start to its departure, the aircraft carrier Intrepid floated back to its berth on the West Side of Manhattan on Thursday, undeterred by a strong westerly wind or the sticky underside of the Hudson River.
The 65-year-old ship, which had served as a military museum for almost 25 years before it left so its pier could be rebuilt, was towed from Staten Island by a team of four tugboats, accompanied by a flotilla of police boats and sightseeing craft.
The move, which took about three hours, was celebrated by a large cast of former crew members and thousands of onlookers who lined the riverfront. But it lacked the memorable drama of its December 2006 move, when the ship became stuck in the mud moments after leaving its West Side pier.
The ship, 900 feet long, glided back into its old parking space parallel to Pier 86, off West 46th Street, just after 2 p.m., filling the void it had left. A digital countdown clock atop the pier flashed “Today!” in red capital letters at the crowd that had gathered along the West Side Highway and the neighboring Pier 84.
“She’s ba-ack,” said Bill White, the president of the Intrepid Sea Air and Space Museum, as he marveled at how snugly the old warhorse fit beside the new staircases and other structures on the pier, which was rebuilt during the Intrepid’s absence. “You couldn’t have called it better. The weather was just right.”
Mr. White expressed relief that the Intrepid’s return was not foiled by the elements again. In November 2006, several of the most powerful tugboats on the Eastern seaboard struggled mightily to budge the Intrepid, but they could not dislodge its four giant propellers from the muddy river bottom.
After another round of dredging by the United States Navy, the Intrepid, which does not have a working engine, was towed away a month later. At a dry dock in Bayonne, N.J., the troublesome propellers, which weighed 20 tons each, were removed and the ship was patched up and repainted.
A few months later, it was towed to the Homeport, a city-owned port on Staten Island, where a thorough redesign of its exhibit spaces was begun and its collection of helicopters and fighter planes was touched up and expanded. About two dozen aircraft, some repainted to look as they did when they flew combat missions in World War II, Vietnam and other conflicts, were tied to the steel flight deck as the ship floated across the harbor and up the river.
The overhaul of the ship, combined with the reconstruction of Pier 86, will cost more than $100 million, most of it paid for by government grants and the rest from private donations. The museum is scheduled to reopen on Nov. 8, with a grand opening celebration to follow on Veterans Day, Nov. 11, Mr. White said.
More than 200 former crew members boarded in Staten Island for one last ride. About 50 of them manned the rail as a lone tugboat pulled the ship past the Statue of Liberty. Alongside the former site of the World Trade Center, they unfurled a giant American flag that had hung on the west side of 1 Liberty Plaza after 9/11. They saluted as a pair of horn players from the New York Police Department band played taps.
Throughout the voyage, they traded stories of war and times of peace.
Joseph M. Cammarata, 86, recounted his adventures as a radioman on torpedo planes over the South Pacific during World War II. He monitored the radar to calibrate the right moment for the pilot to unload on a Japanese ship that had attacked the Intrepid near the Philippines.
“We hit that sucker,” he said, still relishing the moment more than half a century later. But his plane took fire and had to ditch in the sea, leaving him and two crewmates to paddle toward the nearest island. They were picked up by a Filipino fisherman.
“If the Japanese got us — pffft — they would have killed us,” said Mr. Cammarata, who lives in Rochester.
Joseph D. Murphy, 85, grew up in Rockaway Beach, but traveled from his home in San Ramon, Calif., to relive his exploits operating a 40-millimeter quad gun high above the flight deck. He vividly recalled the day in November 1944 when two Japanese kamikaze pilots crashed near where he was standing on Thursday morning. “Right about here,” he said pointing a few feet to his left, then pausing to think about the men who died in that attack.
“I’m delighted to be back,” he said. “It’s a real honor to be here.”
Standing beside the ship after it docked, Charles de Gunzburg, co-chairman of the museum’s board of trustees, said that the trustees and staff of the Intrepid shared Mr. Murphy’s sentiments.
October 3, 2008
Pg. B2
By Patrick McGeehan
ABOARD THE INTREPID — Nearly two years after an embarrassing false start to its departure, the aircraft carrier Intrepid floated back to its berth on the West Side of Manhattan on Thursday, undeterred by a strong westerly wind or the sticky underside of the Hudson River.
The 65-year-old ship, which had served as a military museum for almost 25 years before it left so its pier could be rebuilt, was towed from Staten Island by a team of four tugboats, accompanied by a flotilla of police boats and sightseeing craft.
The move, which took about three hours, was celebrated by a large cast of former crew members and thousands of onlookers who lined the riverfront. But it lacked the memorable drama of its December 2006 move, when the ship became stuck in the mud moments after leaving its West Side pier.
The ship, 900 feet long, glided back into its old parking space parallel to Pier 86, off West 46th Street, just after 2 p.m., filling the void it had left. A digital countdown clock atop the pier flashed “Today!” in red capital letters at the crowd that had gathered along the West Side Highway and the neighboring Pier 84.
“She’s ba-ack,” said Bill White, the president of the Intrepid Sea Air and Space Museum, as he marveled at how snugly the old warhorse fit beside the new staircases and other structures on the pier, which was rebuilt during the Intrepid’s absence. “You couldn’t have called it better. The weather was just right.”
Mr. White expressed relief that the Intrepid’s return was not foiled by the elements again. In November 2006, several of the most powerful tugboats on the Eastern seaboard struggled mightily to budge the Intrepid, but they could not dislodge its four giant propellers from the muddy river bottom.
After another round of dredging by the United States Navy, the Intrepid, which does not have a working engine, was towed away a month later. At a dry dock in Bayonne, N.J., the troublesome propellers, which weighed 20 tons each, were removed and the ship was patched up and repainted.
A few months later, it was towed to the Homeport, a city-owned port on Staten Island, where a thorough redesign of its exhibit spaces was begun and its collection of helicopters and fighter planes was touched up and expanded. About two dozen aircraft, some repainted to look as they did when they flew combat missions in World War II, Vietnam and other conflicts, were tied to the steel flight deck as the ship floated across the harbor and up the river.
The overhaul of the ship, combined with the reconstruction of Pier 86, will cost more than $100 million, most of it paid for by government grants and the rest from private donations. The museum is scheduled to reopen on Nov. 8, with a grand opening celebration to follow on Veterans Day, Nov. 11, Mr. White said.
More than 200 former crew members boarded in Staten Island for one last ride. About 50 of them manned the rail as a lone tugboat pulled the ship past the Statue of Liberty. Alongside the former site of the World Trade Center, they unfurled a giant American flag that had hung on the west side of 1 Liberty Plaza after 9/11. They saluted as a pair of horn players from the New York Police Department band played taps.
Throughout the voyage, they traded stories of war and times of peace.
Joseph M. Cammarata, 86, recounted his adventures as a radioman on torpedo planes over the South Pacific during World War II. He monitored the radar to calibrate the right moment for the pilot to unload on a Japanese ship that had attacked the Intrepid near the Philippines.
“We hit that sucker,” he said, still relishing the moment more than half a century later. But his plane took fire and had to ditch in the sea, leaving him and two crewmates to paddle toward the nearest island. They were picked up by a Filipino fisherman.
“If the Japanese got us — pffft — they would have killed us,” said Mr. Cammarata, who lives in Rochester.
Joseph D. Murphy, 85, grew up in Rockaway Beach, but traveled from his home in San Ramon, Calif., to relive his exploits operating a 40-millimeter quad gun high above the flight deck. He vividly recalled the day in November 1944 when two Japanese kamikaze pilots crashed near where he was standing on Thursday morning. “Right about here,” he said pointing a few feet to his left, then pausing to think about the men who died in that attack.
“I’m delighted to be back,” he said. “It’s a real honor to be here.”
Standing beside the ship after it docked, Charles de Gunzburg, co-chairman of the museum’s board of trustees, said that the trustees and staff of the Intrepid shared Mr. Murphy’s sentiments.