Modern Candlelight

Damn the Torpedoes

While in Gulf Shores, we spent one morning touring Fort Morgan, famous for the Battle of Mobile Bay.

A description of the battle from the History Channel:

On August 5, 1864, the sailors in David Farragut’s 18-ship flotilla awoke at 3 a.m. to prepare for battle. A formidable obstacle awaited them. The imposing knuckles of Fort Morgan and Fort Gaines guarded the entrance to the bay, which was so heavily seeded with floating sea mines—called “torpedoes” during the Civil War—that ships were forced to thread a narrow channel directly under the citadels’ guns.

The good news for Farragut was that if his fleet could slip by the torpedoes and forts, Mobile Bay was defended by only four Confederate ships under the command of Admiral Franklin Buchanan.

Implementing a battle plan he had plotted on a map using small wooden boats carved by his ship’s carpenter, Farragut ordered his vessels into two parallel columns, with four ironclad monitors in one line to pass nearest Fort Morgan and seven pairs of wooden vessels in the other. Larger ships were lashed side by side to smaller gunboats to shield them from Fort Morgan’s devastating fire. Farragut initially announced that his flagship, USS Hartford, would take the lead, but the admiral reluctantly changed his mind after his captains lobbied to have USS Brooklyn, which had a mine-sweeping device under its bow, go first.

 

Shortly before 7 a.m., the battle commenced as shots rang out through the overcast skies. With black cannon smoke mixing with the summer haze, Farragut could no longer see the action.

Then suddenly on Hartford’s starboard side, an explosion rang out and the bow of one of the Union’s iron-hulled monitors, USS Tecumseh, suddenly heaved up out of the water. It turned on its starboard side like a wounded whale. The stern rose high in the air with Tecumseh’s exposed propeller still revolving before the ship suddenly sank out of sight with 90 men still on board.

Realizing that a torpedo had sunk Tecumseh and fearful of striking another, the commander of the Brooklyn ordered the engines stopped. Farragut watched as confusion spread across the Union fleet as it began to pile up directly in the firing line of Fort Morgan’s pounding guns.

Sensing impending disaster, the admiral took control to rally his confused charges and ordered Hartford and its consort to pass through the minefield to get to the front of the line. Although not prone to swearing, Farragut supposedly exhorted, “Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!” Nervous sailors heard the bobbing torpedoes banging and scraping Hartford’s hull as well as the primers snapping on the mines. Fortunately for Farragut’s men, the torpedoes were either faulty or corroded by salt water and failed to ignite.

Hartford safely led the Union flotilla through the mines and out of range of Fort Morgan’s guns. All that remained was the badly outnumbered Confederate force. Although he faced overwhelming odds, Buchanan ordered his flagship, the 200-foot-long ironclad CSS Tennessee, to charge Hartford. The two vessels passed so closely to each other that a sailor on board Hartford threw a spittoon at the enemy while a rebel leaned out of a gun port and stabbed a Union sailor with a bayonet. Farragut’s forces pounded Tennessee until it could no longer fight. The crippled iron monster raised a white flag in surrender.

The Union had seized control of Mobile Bay and sealed it off from blockade runners. Fort Gaines surrendered three days later followed by Fort Morgan on August 23. The city of Mobile itself remained too fortified to capture, and it did not surrender until April 12, 1865, three days after Appomattox.

Undaunted

Claire ended her summer by tackling Splashtown's Texas Freefall - "five stories of heart pounding, side by side free falling action!"

No one else in the group was brave enough.

Behold - the few, the proud, the Claire:

On the Beach

Our days in Gulf Shores were spent on the beach and in the water. Here are some of the rare times the girls were still enough for pictures.

FYI - our house is on the right.

The surf was much calmer this day.

Not a sea creature, just an Emma sighting.

One day after dinner we dressed them up for a more formal informal beach shot.

Summer Vacation

Mother's Day

One Hundred Years - A Tribute to My Father

One hundred years ago today, on February 4, 1915, William Henry “Bill” Chestnut was born (with his twin brother John) in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. 

William and Alvera Chestnut
(April 1986)

Bill and John were the youngest children of James and Margaret Chestnut.

James and Margaret Chestnut

My father was a patient, humble man with a wonderful sense of humor and dry wit. The joys of his life included his family, church, golf, baseball, and Cowboy’s football. Dad had a special fondness for railroads, one that he undoubtedly received from this father. Granddad worked for the Pennsylvania Railroad for 47 years, retiring in 1928.

Dad liked to play card games, especially Hearts. I fondly recall the family Hearts games on Friday nights. It didn't matter who played – Dad always won, with us kids and Mom trailing badly. It seemed Dad was the only one who could keep count of what was played. If one us ever got close to winning, Dad would "shoot the moon", dashing our feeble hopes.

On this one hundredth anniversary of Dad’s birth, a brief history of Dad’s life:

Childhood

Being of Irish descent (Dad’s grandfather emigrated from Northern Ireland in 1851), Dad knew how to tell a story. Here’s one from his childhood about a trip with his twin brother:

“Dad would use his free [railroad] pass to take we twins on one-day excursions to various places on the line. On one such trip to Atlantic City, Dad got thirsty and left we five-year-olds on the beach unattended to visit a nearby bar. He told us to play in the sand and not move from the spot. But we young’ns got restless and went our separate ways when Dad didn't return after a while. I remember winding up in some family’s bathtub because I had pooped my pants. They cleaned me and put me in clean clothes, then took me to the police station where my brother John and my exasperated father were waiting. That story was a laugh-getter at family gatherings for a long time.”

The Twins - John, left, and Dad (date unknown)

A story about baseball and his older brother, James:

"Jim was fifteen years old when his twin brothers were born so we always looked up to him as Big Brother. Jim left home for a job in Buffalo around 1924 so we kids didn't see much of him except for short visits home on occasion. At those times he entertained us in various ways. One time he took us to our first major league ball game to see Philadelphia versus Detroit and I was thrilled then to observe the great Ty Cobb perform in his final big league season." This would be in 1928.

1934

Dad’s first job after high school was with the Garlock Packing Company as a clerk-typist. Garlock sold sealing products used in steam plants, railroad locomotives, and water pumps. At the time of his Golden Anniversary with the company, Dad reminisced:

“January 1934 is a long time ago so I just vaguely remember reporting for my first job at Garlock's downtown Philadelphia sales office. It was the period of the 1930’s Depression when jobs were scarce and I had been a year out of high school without any job prospects. My break came when a bridge club friend of my sister mentioned that her husband needed a replacement clerk-typist at Garlock’s office and suggested I apply. I was hired for a salary of $15 per week and have been with Garlock-affiliated companies ever since, but not at the same salary, fortunately.”

Dad, left, with his co-workers outside the Garlock Sales Office in Philadelphia shortly after he was hired as a clerk-typist.

1938

“After four years at the inside sales office, an opportunity came for a little upward mobility when the manager at Garlock’s newly organized leather product operation in the Philadelphia area needed a young assistant. I accepted the job and so launched a career in the industrial leather business.”

1954

This is Dad’s story of how he met Mom, which is probably more factual than him telling us children that Mom threw a net over him, clubbed him on the head, and dragged him to the altar:

“My lucky day happened in December 1954 when at daily Mass I spotted an attractive young woman a couple of pews ahead of me. In succeeding days, I saw her at the church several times. One morning after Mass, I caught up with her on her way home and spoke to her. She told me her name, Vera Hinz, and when I left her at her apartment door I determined to get to know her better. That was the start of the happiest time of my life.”

1956

Mom and Dad were married on January 28, 1956 in Mom’s hometown of Olean, New York, at Saint Mary of the Angels church.

Saint Mary of the Angels, Olean, New York

Mom and Dad after the Wedding

L-R: Aunt Fran, Uncle John, Mom, Dad

Dad and Mom

Dad and Mom

1967

Dad's company transferred him to Longview, Texas. So Mom and Dad loaded up us four kids into our brand new blue Ford station wagon for the trip south. It looked something like this, but I remember it as a darker shade of blue.

I think Dad went down first to find a house. This is the one he found. And it must have been a good one as that was the only one we lived in.

The house in Longview (2011)

Dad was active in our parish, St. Anthony. He was the number one lector, which means we were able to go to all the top Masses at Christmas and Easter and the other special occasions.

St. Anthony Church (2011)

1984

Dad celebrated his Golden Anniversary with Garlock (and Stemco). At the time, Dad was Manager of Leather Products. He demonstrated “an unsurpassed expertise in leather products” and served two terms as President of the National Industrial Leather Association.

1985

At Dad’s retirement, Stemco announced “Bill Chestnut Day” on February 28 to honor him for his 51 years with the company.

Company management summed up his career this way:

“Like the leather products you manage, you have proven yourself to be lasting, durable, stable, and have become a leader in your field. Thank you, Bill, for your perseverance in a tough field. We are a better, more prosperous company because of you.”

1994

After Mom passed away, Dad wrote in a letter to a relative about how he was getting along:

“I arrange for a round of golf two or three times a week. Drive the car around the area to see what’s going on. Get to daily Mass. Visit the library frequently as a way to spend my time pleasantly. I don’t intend to become a couch potato. My outlook is upbeat and, as much as I miss Vera, I am reconciled to that part of my life being over and accept what I cannot change. I avoid melancholy thoughts and despondency but keep a cheerful, forward looking attitude for the future.”

1998

From Dad's niece, Carol Perpiglia, about Dad's performance at our wedding:

"We wanted you two to know especially that our last thoughts of Uncle Will will always be the happy days during your wedding. Whenever we think of him, we'll remember his beaming face as he toasted the bride and groom and embraced Cathy's dad after the toast was finished. It was a lovely gesture by a truly wonderful and classy human being."

Dad making the toast at our wedding

Dad, Cathy, Chris

2000

By 2000, Dad had slowed down somewhat. In another letter, he explains:

“During the day I read the newspapers or magazines and sometimes a book. I must confess that an old guy like me can’t read steadily without dozing off. As a result, my mornings or afternoons include a nap for an hour or so. I don’t usually watch the TV during daylight hours except on weekends but I enjoy a good movie in the evenings.

I don’t play golf any more. The walking is too tiring even if I were to use a cart. I do enjoy getting outdoors in the afternoons to buy groceries or visit the local mall or other shops. A favorite outlet is to visit the library where I can spend several hours browsing to my heart’s content.”

2001

Dad passed away on February 3, 2001, and was buried at Rosewood Park, next to Mom.