To perpetuate the memory of our shipmates who gave their lives while voluntarily serving in submarine warfare in the pursuit of their duties while serving their country. That their dedication, deeds and supreme sacrifice be a constant source of motivation toward greater accomplishments. To further promote and keep alive the spirit and unity that existed among submarine crewmen during World War II. To promote sociability general welfare and good fellowship among our members. To pledge loyalty and patriotism to the United States of America and it’s constitution.
1. Bowfin Pearl Harbor Base
Bowfin Meeting – We conducted our September meeting at Clean Sweep Bar, Lockwood Hall. The following members attended – Base Commander Paul Jurcsak, Vice Commander Tim Sparks, Secretary Brett Kulbis, Treasurer Carl Tatro, COB Gary Johnson, and members Dave Atkins, George Barlett, Hap Belisle, David Bilek, Rodney Boucher, Allen Clemons, David Danby, Dan Del Monte, Karl Dye, Ben McGowan, Crichton Roberts, Pat Suenaga, Wade Thode, and Joe Winzenried.
Welcomed Guests – Miya Bilek, Judy McGowan, Edie Clemons, Wes and William Thode.
Binnacle List – Please keep the all our members and their families in your good thoughts and prayers, especially Paul Ferguson, Chris Cunha, Pete Cueva, John Hatch and Charlie Womack.
Hauʻoli Lā Hānau! Bowfin Birthdays for the month ofSeptember.
2014 – Location for USS Growler plaque at Arizona Memorial identified. 2008 – Newsletter of Year 2008 (Class III 2nd Place) 2007 – Newsletter of the Year 2007 (Class III Runner-Up) 1988 – POW Medal Awarded to USSVI of WWII Hawaii Chapter member Herb Conser.
The first submarine fully integrated for mixed gender crews will join the Navy fleet next week during a commissioning ceremony in its namesake state of New Jersey.
The USS New Jersey (SSN 796) is the 23rd Virginia-class submarine, but it is the first of its kind — designed from the keel up with specific modifications for gender integration.
The White House is asking Congress for $1.95 billion to make up for a price gap for two submarines already funded as part of the congressional Fiscal Year 2024 budget, USNI News has learned. The request was included in a list of anomalies the White House asked Congress to support in the event the government is funded by a continuing resolution past the end of the fiscal year on Sept. 30.
The S-5 rescue was a miraculous story of great determination and resourcefulness by the crew.
S-5 sank when the forward torpedo room was accidentally flooded preventing a successful surfacing. In a desperate move all main ballast tanks were blown to bring the stern out of the water. The result was more than 60 degree down angle with the nose stuck in the mud; 17 feet of the stern extended out of the water.
The crew was literally walking on the bulkheads; the decks had become bulkheads. There were 34 men on board, crowded into the aft compartments. All kinds of problems were overcome, but they were still trapped with no electricity other than flashlights. The commanding officer, LCDR “Savvy” Cooke, crawled into the tiller room with two chiefs. After eight hours of exhausting effort, using a breast hand drill, they drilled a ¾ inch hole through the pressure hull.
Several more holes were drilled and connected with handsaws and chisels. The effort produced a hole of 1 ½ inches by 4 inches. It was large enough to push a stick with the captain’s shirt on it out of the hole. By then the main problem was putrid air and lack of fresh water. After a painful wait, SS Alanthus’s Captain Johnson was attracted by the odd sight. The ship’s captain approached this small Tower of Pisa in a rowboat.
Using the small opening the following conversation took place:
Johnson: “What ship is this?”
Cooke: “S-5. U.S. Navy”
Johnson: “Who is speaking?”
Cook: “LCDR Charles Cook, commanding.”
Johnson: “Where is your destination?”
Cook: “To Hell by Compass!”
Whereupon both laughed.
This plate was cut from the stern of the USS S-5 to provide egress for the crew from the damaged submarine. The plate reads:
“Removed from the United States Submarine S-5 to allow the crew of that vessel to escape after being imprisoned for 37 hours, the S-5 while engaged in diving exercises flooded a forward compartment and sank at 2:00 pm September 1, 1920 in 165ft of water. After repeated efforts, the crew managed to bring the stern of the vessel to the surface. The vessel was lying at an angle of 60 degrees with the bow resting on the bottom. The crew managed to cut a small hole in the hull and by an improvised signal attracted the attention of the passing steamer ALANTHUS. Later the Pan-American steamer GEORGE W. GOETHALS arrived on the scene. The chief engineer of that that vessel, assisted by the chief engineer of the ALANTHUS, worked with a ratchet drill and chisel, removed this plate at 3:00am September 3, 1920 and the crew of S-5 numbering 34 men were rescued.“
Lieutenant Commander James W. Coe was Commanding Officer of the USS Skipjack (SS 184) when he wrote his famous “Toilet Paper” letter to the Mare Island Supply Office.
USS SKIPJACK June 11, 1942
From: Commanding Officer To: Supply Officer, Navy Yard, Mare Island, California Via: Commander Submarines, Southwest Pacific Subject: Toilet Paper
Reference: (a) USS HOLLAND (5148) USS SKIPJACK req. 70-42 of 30 July 1941. (b) SO NYMI Canceled invoice No. 272836
Enclosure: (1) Copy of cancelled Invoice (2) Sample of material requested.
1. This vessel submitted a requisition for 150 rolls of toilet paper on July 30, 1941, to USS HOLLAND. The material was ordered by HOLLAND from the Supply Officer, Navy Yard, Mare Island, for delivery to USS SKIPJACK.
2. The Supply Officer, Navy Yard, Mare Island, on November 26, 1941, cancelled Mare Island Invoice No. 272836 with the stamped notation “Cancelled—cannot identify.” This cancelled invoice was received by SKIPJACK on June 10, 1942.
3. During the 11 3⁄4 months elapsing from the time of ordering the toilet paper and the present date, the SKIPJACK personnel, despite their best efforts to await delivery of subject material, have been unable to wait on numerous occasions, and the situation is now quite acute, especially during depth charge attack by the “back- stabbers.”
4. Enclosure (2) is a sample of the desired material provided for the information of the Supply Officer, Navy Yard, Mare Island. The Commanding Officer, USS SKIPJACK cannot help but wonder what is being used in Mare Island in place of this unidentifiable material, once well known to this command.
5. SKIPJACK personnel during this period have become accustomed to use of “ersatz,” i.e., the vast amount of incoming non-essential paper work, and in so doing feel that the wish of the Bureau of Ships for the reduction of paper work is being complied with, thus effectively killing two birds with one stone.
6. It is believed by this command that the stamped notation “cannot identify” was possible error, and that this is simply a case of shortage of strategic war material, the SKIPJACK probably being low on the priority list.
7. In order to cooperate in our war effort at a small local sacrifice, the SKIPJACK desires no further action be taken until the end of the current war, which has created a situation aptly described as “war is hell.”
J.W. Coe
Here is the rest of the story:
The letter was given to the Yeoman, telling him to type it up. Once typed and upon reflection, the Yeoman went looking for help in the form of the XO. The XO shared it with the OD and they proceeded to the CO’s cabin and asked if he really wanted it sent. His reply, “I wrote it, didn’t I?“
As a side note, twelve days later, on June 22, 1942 J.W. Coe was awarded the Navy Cross for his actions on the S-39.
The “toilet paper” letter reached Mare Island Supply Depot. A member of that office remembers that all officers in the Supply Department “had to stand at attention for three days because of that letter.” By then, the letter had been copied and was spreading throughout the fleet and even to the President’s son who was aboard the USS Wasp.
As the boat came in from her next patrol, Jim and crew saw toilet-paper streamers blowing from the lights along the pier and pyramids of toilet paper stacked seven feet high on the dock. Two men were carrying a long dowel with toilet paper rolls on it with yards of paper streaming behind them as a band played coming up after the roll holders. Band members wore toilet paper neckties in place of their Navy neckerchiefs. The wind-section had toilet paper pushed up inside their instruments and when they blew, white streamers unfurled from trumpets and horns.
As was the custom for returning boats to be greeted at the pier with cases of fresh fruit/veggies and ice cream, the Skipjack was first greeted thereafter with her own distinctive tribute-cartons and cartons of toilet paper.
This letter became famous in submarine history books and found its way to the movie (“Operation Petticoat”), and eventually coming to rest (copy) at the Navy Supply School at Pensacola, Florida. There, it still hangs on the wall under a banner that reads, “Don’t let this happen to you!” Even John Roosevelt ensured his father got a copy of the letter.
USS Hawaii (SSN 776) and its U.S. and Australian crew pulled into Australia’s western naval base HMAS Stirling on Thursday August 22 for a maintenance period with submarine tender USS Emory S. Land (AS-39). It’s the first time a U.S. nuclear-powered submarine will undergo an overhaul on foreign soil.
On August 26, 2021, 13 U.S. military members part of Operation Allies Refuge, the mission to evacuate American citizens and Afghans who assisted the U.S. and its allies during their 20-year war in Afghanistan. Were killed near the Abbey Gate of the Hamid Karzai International Airport in Kabul, Afghanistan by a suicide bomber. The bomb was a vehicle born improvised explosive device, or a car bomb. The attack marked one of the deadliest days for American forces in the past decade of the 20-year war in Afghanistan — and took place just days ahead of the U.S.’s planned full withdrawal.
Marine Corps Lance Cpl. David Lee Espinoza, 20 – He was originally from Laredo, Texas, and he left behind a brother, mother, and his stepfather.
Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Dylan Merola, 20 – He achieved the rank of Lance Corporal and was from Ranch Cucamonga, California. Merola was only in Kabul for two weeks before he was killed and students back home at his old high school even wore red, white and blue in his honor. He texted his mother that he would not be able to call and talk to her while on his evacuation assignment. “He wrote…’I love you and I’ll talk to you soon,’ ” said mother Cheryl Merola.
Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Jared Schmitz, 20 – Schmitz was from St. Louis, Missouri, and had achieved the rank of Lance Corporal. He was even honored in a Facebook post by State Representative Nick Schroer. The State Representative has also made several other posts since Schmitz’s death.
Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Kareem Nikoui, 20 – He was originally stationed nearby at Camp Pendleton in California and he even sent his father a video of him talking with Afghan children and giving them candy at the airport. The video was sent the day before he was killed.
Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Rylee McCollum, 20 – McCollum was from Bondurant, Wyoming, and was on his first deployment. He had only just graduated from high school in 2019 and was recently married and only 3 weeks away from becoming a father. There is a Go Fund Me page set up to help raise money for his child’s education and it has raised well over it’s goal of $5,000, which is very impressive and will be worth the while for his family.
Marine Corps Cpl. Hunter Lopez, 22 – He was from California and wanted to be like his parents after his deployment. He planned on becoming a sheriff’s deputy once he returned home, to follow in his parents’ footsteps. The family would like all donations made to the Riverside County Deputy Sheriff Relief Foundationin honor of Lopez.
Marine Corps Cpl. Humberto Sanchez, 22 – He was a Corporal from Logansport, Indiana. Sanchez was only out of high school for 4 years when he was killed and had the Indiana State Representative Jim Baird posted and identified him, Indiana Senator posted on Twitter, and the Logansport Mayor post on Facebook indirectly about Sanchez.
Navy Hospital Corpsman Maxton Soviak, 22 – Soviak was a Navy Medic working with the marines in Afghanistan, since the Marines do not have their own medical field. He is from Berlin Heights, Ohio, and there is a Go Fund Me page started by a family friend as a memorial fund for Soviak.
Marine Corps Sgt. Nicole Gee, 23 – She was a Sergeant who originates from Roseville, California, and was a maintenance technician with 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit. Gee posted an Instagram pic the week before she was killed talking about how much she loves her job and Sgt. Mallory Harrison, who was her roommate and friend from Camp Lejeune posted a painfully heartbreaking post about Gee on Facebook. While Gee was deployed, Harrison was asked to look after her car and couldn’t let the image of the car go when she stated, “Her car is still there & she’s gone forever.”
U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Ryan Knauss, 23 – Knauss was from Knoxville, Tennessee, and has been the first Army soldier to be identified from the attack. He had just completed Psychology Operation Training and hoped to move to Washington, DC, when he came back from his deployment. He left behind his Stepmother, Grandfather, and his wife, who he loved to help with her garden.
Marine Corps Cpl. Daegan Page, 23 – He was from Omaha, Nebraska, and was the 2nd Regiment of 1st Marine Regiment (aka “The Professionals”) at Camp Pendleton in Southern California. Page planned to go to trade school after his deployment. He left behind his parents, step-parents, grandparents, four siblings, and his girlfriend.
Marine Corps Sgt. Johanny Rosario Pichardo, 25 – She was a Sergeant who was from Lawrence, Massachusetts, and was a member of the U.S. Marine Corps Female Engagement Team. Rosario Pichardo was also part of the Naval Amphibious Force, Task Force 51/5th Marine Expeditionary Brigade and was on the ground aiding in the evacuation that took place. At this time, her family wants privacy and want their loved one to be honored as the hero she was.
Marine Corps Staff Sgt. Darin Taylor Hoover Jr., 31 – Hoover was from Midvale, Utah, and was a Staff Sergeant in the Marine Corps. He played football in high school and loved what he did in the marines and spent most of his life fighting for the country. The Utah Governor ordered that flags at all state facilities and public grounds be at half-staff through sunset on Monday, August 30, 2021, in honor of Taylor’s memory along with all the other soldiers that have been killed.
An American submarine tender recently arrived in Western Australia, where sailors are training to service U.S. and British nuclear-powered fast-attack boats under a mutual defense pact.
The USS Emory S. Land, a Guam-based tender crewed by American and Australian sailors, pulled into naval base HMAS Stirling, near Perth, on Aug. 16, the Navy announced in a news release that day.
The crew will perform maintenance on a U.S. nuclear-powered submarine over several weeks, the release said, without naming the boat.
Aboard the USS Tiru (SS 416), September 1967; This Northern Run started off like most diesel submarine Cold War patrols did. We were told not to tell anyone we were leaving our home port of Pearl Harbor for parts unknown, then we painted over our hull number, took aboard umpteen tons worth of food, topped off our fuel oil tanks, and were issued foul weather gear topside in front of God and everybody. So much for secrecy. I had no ‘need to know’ where this here ‘there’ we were headed to was. I still don’t know what we did or where we went. We were told that if anyone should question us, we were on an ‘oceanographic survey mission’. I’m happy to report no one ever asked.
All I knew was that when we raised the top of our snorkel mast just above the surface in order to run the diesel engines, the arctic air we sucked in was so damned cold we wore foul weather jackets and hats in the normally sweltering Engine Rooms. I would stand in a corner to stay away from the frigid blast traveling between the air induction piping and the engine intakes. The occasional slug of ice cold salt water coming in with the air needed to be avoided also. My favorite spot had an electrical switchboard that I leaned back against so that at least my butt was warm.
One day a large hulking Engineman named Lurch (he looked and acted like the butler Lurch on the Addams Family TV show) strolled up to the Control Room after he got off watch to shoot the shit and warm up a bit. The Chief Of The Watch spots him and says “Hey Lurch, go wake up Chief Mac. Tell him he’s late relieving me.”
Lurch, a man of few words and no visible emotions, comes back in a couple of minutes and reports “He can’t wake up. He’s dead”.
The Diving Officer, Torpedoman Chief ‘Spooks’ Merrill (it was his second tour of duty aboard Tiru), jumps in and says “That can’t be!” Lurch calmly looks him in the eye and replies softly, “I worked at a mortuary before I joined the Navy. I know what dead people look like.” No one believes him so a seaman is sent to wake Chief Mac. He can’t rouse him either. “Get the Corpsman!”
‘Doc’ Brandt (a bespectacled First Class pill pusher who was also the night cook and ship’s baker) agrees with Lurch’s prognosis, Chief Mac is dead. The reason for his sudden demise was unknown.
Captain Shilling, who had steered Tiru through many major problems, orders that his body be placed in the freezer. The Chief Of The Boat drafts four volunteers to help Doc load him into a body bag. They carry him out of the Goat Locker in the Forward Battery, through the Control Room, and into the After Battery Compartment. The freezer is located under the mess decks. They lower him down the ladder and lay him out between the salisbury steaks and the boneless pork chops.
You should have heard the bitching and moaning, “Chief Mac is going to contaminate the ice cream” and similar complaints. Hell, Chief Mac was sealed up in his black body bag better than those cardboard boxes of beef, pork, and chickens stored in the freezer! The Captain finally relented and had the Mark 37 torpedo removed from number two torpedo tube. Four new ‘volunteers’ removed him from the freezer, carried him out of the After Battery through Control, through the Forward Battery Compartment, and into the Forward Torpedo Room. They loaded him into #2 tube and closed the inner door. He was already frozen and the sea water surrounding the outside of the tube was 28 degrees. He would keep in there.
The past year had been hard on the Tiru and her crew. We spent three days aground on a reef in Australia, and sailed to Brisbane for emergency repairs after two Aussie ships towed us off the rocks. Unable to submerge, we headed to Yokosuka Japan for an extended dry docking that replaced 3/4 of our keel. We had to pull into some obscure port in Korea for more repairs, had a diesel engine run away (until it broke), visited most of the dry docks in the western Pacific, and made a couple of Vietnam patrols and a Northern Run. We hit some great liberty ports too! Our scheduled six month deployment had turned into a nine month submarine saga. By the time we got back to Pearl Harbor 100 percent of the crew was qualified in submarines. It seemed as if we had barely gotten back home when we were tasked with this patrol. All these tribulations forged very strong bonds amongst the crew. We experienced chaos. We experienced joy. Chief Mac had been through all of this with us. I believe most of the crew walked up to the Torpedo Room individually to pay their respects to the man in number two torpedo tube. I know I did.
While all this underwater drama was unfolding, we headed for a spot in the open ocean where no one could easily surveil us and broke radio silence to ask for instructions. Pacific Submarine Force (SubPac) replied in a few hours with a message that probably went something along the lines of “Proceed undetected to Nome Alaska where a Naval aircraft will rendezvous. Do not divulge to officials in Nome the name of your submarine.”
We dropped anchor in Nome Harbor and our Executive Officer, LCDR. Meaux, rode the pilot boat to shore. He had an old, worn, leather jacket that had several ship’s patches sewn on it, but ours had not yet been added. He wore that to keep ‘em guessing.
Nome Airstrip
His mission was to secure a boat to transfer Chief Mac to shore, then arrange to get him moved to the Nome airstrip where a plane from Adak Naval Station was due to land. Plus manpower would be needed for the heavy lifting ashore. The Mayor of Nome and three City Councilmen said they would do it in exchange for a tour of the boat.
These burly bearded guys looked like gold miners with their plaid flannel shirts and insulated boots, not politicians. They stopped in the After Battery to chat with us for a few minutes. We went up on deck to get some eyeball liberty. Nome is a desolate looking place, a small town with big mountains and no trees. That Jack London book I read said they had saloons, but we never got the opportunity to carouse in them. We saw Chief Mac off with his escorts aboard a 16 foot outboard motorboat, and when they departed for shore we departed for that who knows where place again. It was back to work for us, the ocean wasn’t going to survey itself.
Chief Quartermaster Davis was due to be transferred so the Captain assigned him to escort Chief Mac on his travels. Davis reported back later that they flew to Anchorage in a P2V Neptune (an anti-submarine warfare plane, ironically) to do an autopsy. The Air Force Base Hospital staff was reluctant, so Davis put the Doctor In Charge on the phone with SubPac. Someone with a lot of horsepower convinced him it was in his best interests to comply. It turned out that a cerebral hemorrhage had caused his death. After a stop in Seattle to attire Chief Mac in a new dress blue uniform, he and Davis were flown to Arlington National Cemetary where his family was gathered for the burial. Chief Davis presided over the ceremony.
Chapter 2. PASS THE PEAS, PLEASE!
And there we were, again!
To make up for the time lost on that little side excursion to Nome our patrol was extended. The cooks hadn’t planned for this circumstance. We still had dehydrated and frozen food, plus flour and coffee, but we ran out of canned food. (For you non bubbleheads, the last of the fresh food was gone six weeks ago). A mess cook was sent to the After Torpedo Room to see if they had missed any provisions stored there. He laid down on his belly in the bilges with a battle lantern, peering into the dark recesses. The light reflected off of something shiny stuck under number ten torpedo tube. He slithered over and pulled it out. It was a can of green peas.
Number 10 cans.
Rumor of his discovery spread like wildfire. The only things we had to look forward to while on patrol to were watching movies and eating, and the movies weren’t very recent (think Rory Calhoun westerns). Canned green anything, yum, that was the next best thing to fresh veggies. A #10 can only holds 3 quarts which would have to be shared by 85 submariners.
We didn’t have space for a surface ship style buffet line, so we always ate family style in three shifts. Mess cooks would put food on the tables and we would take as much as we wanted of each dish. This method worked well and I still wear the belly fat to prove it. These green peas would be in high demand, so the mess cooks were instructed to personally put two tablespoons on each of our plates. I am sure the cook added bacon or dehydrated onion or something to give the peas more volume. There were no leftovers.
When the message arrived that we had surveyed the whole damn ocean and could head south, we gathered on the mess decks and were served a celebratory concoction made with Gilly (180 proof alcohol used in the torpedos, mixed with bug juice similar to kool aid but nastier). Each of our three watch sections would receive their share of this high end hooch after being relieved from duty, as we were not allowed to drink and dive.
Chapter 3. WE GET CRABS!
And then we weren’t there.
We reported our food situation to SubPac and were instructed to pull into Adak Naval Station and take on a weeks worth of vittles to sustain us during our return voyage to Pearl. And, oh, by the way and more importantly, Commander Submarine Force Pacific Admiral Maurer is hosting a big shindig and needs about a ton of crabs which just happen to be stored at Adak. Could you please transport them for him?
Adak, Alaska
Adak is an austere 28 mile long island in the Aleutian Chain, ideally situated for Navy patrol planes to keep an eye out for bad guys. The Tiru tied up to a pier and we loaded stores, sampling various fresh fruits as they were passed hand to hand aboard and stowed below. Not ones to disappoint an Admiral (especially one with two Silver Stars and the Navy Cross), we manhandled cases of crabs down the After Battery hatch and stashed them in our nearly empty freezer.
Admiral Maurer was to do a walk thru as we transited the Pearl Harbor channel, and the boat needed to be thoroughly cleaned. Everything in the Engine Rooms was covered with ‘snorkel dust’, a combination of diesel fuel, lubricating oil, and hydraulic oil bound together with dried salt and carbon from the engine exhaust. Our Chief Engineman, Eugene Gaito (a short New York Italian with a white beard and twinkling eyes, who made all 9 war patrols on USS Bowfin), told me and a couple of other snipes to go to the Adak Commissary and buy cleaning gear. First we went to Chief Of The Boat Christofferson (another WWII Submarine Veteran who had so many medals he had a port list when in his dress uniform) to get some cash from the slush fund, but he turned us down so we had to use our precious beer money for soap and such. We bought the then new ’409’ cleaner which worked so well I still use it to this day.
We got liberty on this port call. The only places to drink on Adak Island were the Officers Club, Chiefs Club, and Enlisted Mens Club. So off we went to mingle with the airdales and other sailors that called this secluded base home. When the EM Club closed, most of us stumbled back to the boat. But the Torpedomen had other ideas.They went to explore “Adak Forest”, which consisted of a traffic circle with the only three trees growing on the island. And a single totem pole.
Early the next morning the Adak Base Police were aboard wanting to know where their totem pole was. As we were the only ship in port we were the prime suspect. This totem pole was no virgin, having been stolen several times before. We heard she made it to Pearl Harbor once, and had to be flown home. They found her resting peacefully in the still torpedoless #2 torpedo tube. They got their totem pole back and we got underway.
Chapter 4. PEARL
And then we headed home.
We ate well on our southward voyage, boiled crab with canned green peas, and fresh salads, and omelets made from real eggs, not the dehydrated powdered crap we had been eating. The Engine Rooms warmed up enough to stand watch sweating and shirtless again. We could cruise on the surface and hang out on the bridge breathing fresh air and enjoy looking at the ocean without the use of a periscope. Life was good.
ComSubPac Admiral Maurer did his walk through, and we transferred his crabs after we tied up at the Submarine Base.The married men went home to catch up on their TV watching, so they said. Us single guys went to the barracks and took a shower, splashed on a quart and a half of Old Spice to mask the diesel submarine smell located deep in our pores, traded our filthy dungarees for spiffy civvies, and headed for our usual haunts in Honolulu.
Our first stop was The Dolphin Club on Beretania Street to check in with Big Mary and the girls. We toasted Chief Mac there, and walked to the Pantheon Bar on Nuuanu Avenue and toasted Chief Mac again. There were probably a few other fine drinking establishments that we patronized before arriving at the Rialto Lounge on Hotel Street. This had been Chief Mac’s favorite hangout. Besides the obligatory jukebox, the Rialto had a bowling machine and a shuffleboard that gave us squids something to spend our money on while drinking. It may be just my imagination, but I can still picture Chief Mac sitting on a stool with his back against the Rialto’s bar, smiling at our gin mill antics with the neon beer signs reflecting off of his bald head. We intrepid sailors of the USS Tiru raised our bottles of Primo and Oly and Lucky Lager and said “Here’s to Electrician’s Mate Senior Chief Edward McKeon. Fair Winds And Following Seas, Shipmate.”
Rialto Lounge Hotel St. / Pantheon Bar Nuuanu Ave.
Bowfin Pearl Harbor Base 