Hunt and Kill

by Theodore P. Savas

  Wagner’s resolution may have been initially introduced in 1950 to keep U-505 from being scrapped and to show the Navy Chicago meant business. At that time the U-505 committee and museum were not ready to bring the boat to Chicago. It would take several more years of detailed investigations and planning before the project was ready to move forward. When the committee and museum were finally ready to initiate the actual transfer of the boat, Alderman Wagner reintroduced the same resolution on March 11, 1953, setting forth for many of the new faces in Washington the reasons why the city should fight for possession of the boat. The resolution read as follows:

  “WHEREAS, U-505, a Nazi submarine prowling the Atlantic Ocean for Allied shipping, was boarded and captured by the United States Navy on June 4, 1944, marking the first time that the American Navy has boarded and captured an enemy ship of war on the high seas since 1815,”

  WHEREAS, Numerous Chicagoans participated in this action, including the Commander of the task group, the Commanding Officer of the first vessel to go alongside the submarine, as well as other officers and men of the task group; and

  WHEREAS, A proposal has been made, supported by many prominent Chicagoans, to bring U-505 to Chicago for permanent installation at the Museum of Science and Industry as an exhibit of outstanding public interest and as a memorial to the many heroic fighters of the United States Navy who have given their lives for their country; and

  WHEREAS, Submarine warfare constituted a major factor both in World War I and World War II and still remains a vital part of modern warfare; and

  WHEREAS, The installation of U-505 at the Museum of Science and Industry would permit many hundreds of thousands of persons to see it each year, thus drawing considerable attention to this phase of the war at sea and emphasizing the importance of maintaining a strong sea-going force for the protection of our country; therefore Be It Resolved, That the City Council of the City of Chicago do hereby make formal request of the Secretary of the Navy to present U-505 to the City of Chicago for the purpose of installing this vessel as a permanent exhibit; and be it further

  RESOLVED, That the City Council authorize the Mayor of the City of Chicago, if and when such request is granted, to appoint a committee of Chicago citizens to make whatever arrangements are necessary and to prepare plans for appropriate ceremonies attending its installation as one of Chicago’s permanent war exhibits.”14

  This time around the Alderman’s resolution was seconded by Ald Cullerton of the 38th Ward. Secretary of the Navy Francis Matthews responded a few weeks later with a letter to the City Council confirming receipt and outlining the costs involved in preparing U-505 for a tow to Chicago from its current berth at the Portsmouth Naval Yard in New Hampshire. Many years had passed since the original interest in U-505, but the logjam appeared to be breaking. What nobody associated with the project realized at the time were the problems about to arise because of the use of a few words in the resolution.15

  Gallery was delighted by the city’s renewed enthusiasm for bringing the boat to his hometown but knew if nothing happened soon, the Navy (which was growing impatient by the long delays) was going to scrap the boat because it needed the room occupied by U-505 at the Portsmouth yard. Gallery suggested $20,000 should be enough to bring the boat through the Great Lakes to Chicago, where “there is plenty of navy space here for its berthing.”16

  The Tribune Company offered the services of one of its newsprint carrying ships, which could tow U-505, and the Quebec and Ontario Transportation Company, which operated the Tribune’s fleet between Chicago and its Canadian paper mills, suggested a pair of possible routes: via St. Lawrence and the connecting seaway, or to Lake Erie at the end of the canal and then on to Chicago. These ideas triggered a lengthy discussion about the best route to Chicago vis-à-vis the costs involved, and reopened negotiations with the Navy to determine whether it would perform the task free as a goodwill gesture. Few if any of the major participants fully appreciated the difficulty or expense involved in preparing and moving more than 700 tons of submarine. Their primary focus was getting title to the boat and getting it to Chicago; once that was done they could argue who was going to place it where and for what purpose. The Tribune Company’s offer to keep U-505 at its own riverfront property removed that potential problem from the complex equation.17

  With local interest increasing Lohr offered up to $25,000 of museum funds to prepare the boat for exhibit at the institution once it arrived. Gallery and Mayor Kennelly agreed between them that the first step should be to get the Navy to transfer custody to the city before the mayor appointed a fundraising committee. Andrew Boemi, president of the Chicago chapter of the Navy League of the Unites States was instructed by the directors of that group to appoint a committee to join in the project to bring the boat to Chicago. The matter seemed to be moving smoothly along.18

  Unfortunately, the generosity of the Tribune Company would never be realized. J. W. Gulick, Chief of Marine Administration for the Treasury Department’s Bureau of Customs, informed the company of a little known clause in the Federal Code that made the tow they offered impossible. Section 36, Title 46 prohibited any vessel of foreign registry, except in case of distress, from towing one of American registry anywhere in the United States. The Tribune’s fleet was owned by the Quebec and Ontario Transportation Company, and was thus under Canadian registry. Dismayed by the news, many sought to skirt the law by relying on technicalities. Was not U-505 a foreign boat? Not as far as the Navy was concerned: “Inasmuch as it appears that U-505 is in all probability not a vessel of foreign registry…it seems the proposed movement is prohibited by this section.”19 U-505 became a US vessel in June 1944 when Kenneth Knowles had renamed it USS Nemo to keep the capture a secret until the war ended.20

  The disheartening information crushed the spirits of some while sparking others to greater effort. James H. Gately, president of the Chicago Park District Board, was not about to sit idly by and let some obscure law send U-505 to the bottom of the sea as a wreck. Although Gately recognized the law was the law, he proposed the city seek special dispensation or temporary relief from it in order to allow the tow. “If the maritime laws provisions can’t be waived, the whole Illinois delegation in Congress should get behind a special bill to permit the tow,” he said. “Chicago should have U-505. Certainly it is better to bring it here as an educational exhibit than for the Navy to junk it.”21

  The bad news also increased Mayor Kennelly’s determination to land the submarine. Knowing the official transfer request for U-505 would involve congressional support from both sides of aisle, letters were sent to Illinois Republican Senator Everett Dirksen and Democratic Senator Paul Douglas asking for their joint support. Their backing would help in the upcoming negotiations with the Federal government and the eventual plan by the city to try to have the Navy pay for as much of the project as possible.

  On March 30 Mayor Kennelly left for a visit to the White House for a conference with President Dwight Eisenhower and other city officials from around the country dealing with governmental functions and fiscal resources. The timing could not have been better for Chicago to press its case in Washington. Kennelly promised his constituents he would meet with government officials on the matter.22 It is unknown whether he mentioned the issue directly to the president (or if he even intended to), but the news that followed was promising.

  Two days later Kennelly met with John Floberg, the man who had noticed U-505 on the list of ships to be scrapped. During a discussion of the transfer Kennelly happily learned of Floberg’s enthusiastic support for the project—and the high cost of what his city hoped to undertake. The Navy expected the necessary repairs to get U-505 under tow at an eye-popping $175,000. Floberg sent a telegram several days later reaffirming his support and “co-operation in every practical way…. I earnestly hope that under your leadership and that of your committee this war trophy may be preserved in the naval district which furnished the Navy one-third of its personnel during World War II.”23 The a
mount of money was staggering, but Kennelly was pleased to learn no additional official obstacles had been thrown in the way. Indeed, the US Navy never really objected to the project to the point of refusing to cooperate, (though some individuals felt it was a bad idea or a Dan Gallery self-aggrandizement project) they simply had laws tying their hands about the costs incurred on such project.24

  On Friday April 3, 1953, a fundraising and organizational drive was kicked off, the former weakly and the latter with vigor. A 42-man committee (which would eventually grow to more than 70 members) of prominent Chicagoans was appointed by Dan Gallery, William M. Goodrich (recently retired from the Goodrich Electric Co.), and Mayor Kennelly. Goodrich sat as chairman. The influential group pledged every effort to bring the U-boat from New Hampshire to Illinois and deposit it safely for display at the Museum of Science and Industry. Other well-known members included honorary chairman Ralph Bard, a prominent Chicago attorney and former Undersecretary of the Navy, Arthur Godfrey, a popular television and radio comedian and a commander in the Naval Reserves, and Dan Gallery’s brother, Father John Gallery, priest of Chicago’s St. Cecilia’s Church.

  After Illinois Senator Dirksen held a series of discussions with U-505 committee leaders he made it known he planned to introduce a bill mandating the Navy to perform the necessary repairs on U-505. Gallery had also been intimately involved in these conversations and had encouraged the angle of getting the Navy to pay. Gallery felt that though Federal law stated that the recipient of a stricken vessel assume all costs he felt that the Navy was interpreting the clause too literally. Gallery had in fact disagreed on the high cost estimate of refurbishing the U-505 for transfer and encouraged Senator Dirksen to try and “persuade the bureaucrats that their estimates…were a little on the high side and that it would be good training for the navy to tow it to Chicago for us.” For this behind-the-scenes coaching Gallery received a stern warning, but short of what would have been his second reprimand.25

  In trying to flex the committee’s considerable political clout, Goodrich made it clear to the Secretary of the Navy he believed that branch of the service should recondition the boat for towing to Chicago—or at the least assume a large portion of the costs involved: “The Navy should recondition the boat because it was the first enemy vessel captured on the high seas by our navy since the War of 1812.” Goodrich also cited precedent in support of the argument. The Navy, he claimed, had delivered the battleship USS Texas to its namesake state in 1948 for use as a war memorial. Texas was the first surplus ship to become a memorial under a new regulation. However the battleship was transferred under arrangements similar to those that would eventually be worked out for U-505: the state provided $250, 000 to establish the berthing arrangements and provide all annual costs for maintenance and operation. It has not been determined whether the Navy absorbed the costs for preparing the ship for tow.26

  Thinking that Goodrich was making a valid point regarding having the Navy pay, the local media enthusiastically agreed. “All Chicagoans should join in this venture,” the Chicago Herald-American proudly proclaimed in April 1953. “This trophy of war should be brought here because of its historic nature…and because it will add immeasurably to the attendance at the museum.”27 An editorial a few days later continued in this vein, adding, “The people of Chicago, now and in the future, would find interest and excitement in seeing and studying this member of the under seas fleet with which the Nazis made such grim and effective war.”28

  Who would pay for what, however, continued to be a major sticking point. Goodrich declared, “I do not think the committee or the city should be obliged to spend this money to put the vessel in towable condition. That should be done by the Navy. We will not engage in any fundraising campaign until we see what the Navy will do. Then we’ll know how much money we will have to raise.”29 While this was a fiscally responsible (and perhaps the only appropriate) position to take in the early days of the project, it would prove impossible in practice.

  Even without Navy financial backing the optimistic committee members eventually moved forward on virtually all fronts. That April plans were set in motion for a big public welcome of the submarine, which they assumed would arrive just four months later in August. (The month was right but the year was not: the boat would not arrive until August of 1954.) A planning dinner for the 42 committee members was held at the Chicago Athletic Club to discuss the project and assign tasks to the members. The spectacular film of the capture of U-505 was shown to a delighted group—the first of many public depicting as a way to excite the membership and build enthusiasm for the project. Supposedly, captured German film showing U-505 in action was also shown, but this claim is doubtful as no such footage is known to exist. The screening of stock footage went hand-in-hand with press reports inflating U-505’s wartime record. One report claimed U-505 sank 160,000 tons of shipping, when in fact the total was less than 1/3 that amount at 46,962 tons. The press would continue reporting incorrect figures in the months ahead, but as the date of the boat’s arrival in Chicago approached, facts relating to its service edged closer to reality.30

  After the film was shown the committee broke into an executive committee and subcommittees. One of the latter was tasked with visiting Illinois congressmen and traveling to Washington for negotiations with the Navy. Another was ordered to study the costs of the move and restoration and installation of the boat at the museum. Still a third group, headed by Fred Byington, business manager of the Chicago Tribune, was ordered to head for New York City to talk with various companies about the price of towing the submarine to Chicago. Later another committee was formed to produce the welcome and dedication ceremonies.

  The cost of towing the boat was not the only major concern facing the committee. A revealing article in the Chicago American dated April 22, 1953, pointed out U-505’s advanced state of decay and that some in the Navy questioned whether it was even feasible to tow U-505 to Chicago—regardless of the cost:

  Had the city taken action when the boat was first offered to Chicago as a war memorial in 1948, the cost would have been much less. In fairly good condition then and with all its original equipment aboard, the vessel is now a stripped and neglected rusted hulk. Navy officials [hesitate] to move U-505 too far or to experiment with her diving tanks because of the possibility of it sinking or capsizing…. U-505 could make the trip all right, but it is a mightily dangerous tow. A towline…might rip the bow off the sub. Hatches of U-505 are padlocked and the gangway raised to prevent unauthorized persons from boarding the craft, now considered by Navy men as a bad risk. Below, the musty engine room, crews’ quarters, control room and the rest are encrusted with salt and rust. The big diesel engines are still there, but it would cost thousands of dollars to put them in working order again.

  The damning article did not stop there:

  Most of the equipment has been cannibalized and sent to France. The German-made periscopes are missing. Several of the ballast tanks contain water but the Navy has no plans for draining them. One of the tanks was tapped a year ago, a naval officer recalled and it immediately began to fill with water. The bottom had rusted. The sub might have sunk right there at the dock if we hadn’t immediately plugged the tap. U-505 was last in dry-dock in 1947, but at that time the bottom was not painted. The Navy Department has thus far refused to allot any money for the upkeep of the vessel. There are no plans at present to dry-dock her and Navy men fear such an operation might result in her destruction. In addition to taking six times the effort to dry-dock U-505 than for any other submarine, they point out, the keel might give way during the operation. That would mean the U-boat would be cut up on the spot for scrap.31

  So, could U-505 be towed to Chicago—or not? Despite these problems, some of which had been sensationalized, the Navy spokesperson conceded the boat would probably withstand the difficult journey. But the spokesman did not speak for the inspection team tasked with deciding that question, and whether U-505 would make it to Chicago as a war memo
rial or be sunk rested largely with what the team traveling to Portsmouth (which included five committee members) discovered during its evaluation.32 The blunt frankness exhibited in the Chicago American article may have been because the paper had no real stake in whether the boat ended up in Chicago or on the seabed. A rebuttal published in the Chicago Tribune two days later refuted some of these claims and offered a less dire portrait of the boat’s deteriorating condition.

  At the time it was impossible to know which paper was hitting closer to the truth. The Chicago Tribune, an enthusiastic supporter of bringing the boat to the city, had and would continue to have a tendency to gloss over some of the more negative aspects of the endeavor throughout the life of the project. This time, though, it was right on the money: the boat was in better shape than reported and had passed the inspection. The estimated price of $200,000 to restore the boat was almost certainly “too high”; the exterior was rusting after eight years of exposure to the corroding sea air, but the inspectors found the interior was still in “very good condition.”

  According to the Tribune, “Reports of the extent to which U-505 had been dismantled turned out to be exaggerated. The interior is largely intact, most of its equipment is still in place and that it may be possible to round up the missing items.” Some missing interior parts had been sent to the Naval Research Laboratory and were reportedly still there. The inspection team found U-505 lying low and stern down in the water, with a slight list to starboard. Admittedly it was a sorry sight from the outside. Red with rust, the outer hull was deeply pitted with parts completely holed, most noticeably at the stern. A shipyard official claimed the exterior repairs would be hard because the Germans engineered their submarines for only two years of service and used steel ingredients that made welding difficult. Officials estimated repairs would run about $21,000, with another $25,000 to tow the boat to Chicago and another $30,000 to get it into shape for exhibit. The pressure hull was ¾” steel, and because of this the Navy believed it would stand the strain of towing and rough weather.33 The observation by the shipyard official questioning the suitablility for welding was off the mark. The Germans cut corners in some respects because of the large number of boats required to fight the tonnage war and steadily increasing rate of losses (which is why few boats lasted longer than two years), but their steel was outstanding and the boats were welded as well as any boats afloat.