Hunt and Kill

by Theodore P. Savas

  If Chicago officials hoped this news would end the debate, they were disappointed. The Chicago Herald American reported the five-man inspection team had signed off on the move despite caution and pessimism from other naval officials. Captain F. X. Forest reminded the team it would be risky to tow the aging submarine across 1,340 miles of open sea to Quebec and another 1,390 miles to Chicago without first inspecting the boat in dry-dock and preparing her for the journey. Captain R. E. Cronin, commander of the Portsmouth yard, speculated a towing company might not want the job at all—presumably because of the poor condition of the boat. The inspection team, however, dismissed these concerns as too pessimistic.

  Other newspaper articles focused on the intricacies found aboard the boat and how well its mechanical features would be received at the Museum of Science and Industry. “There were many wonders to behold. There were the wheels, cogs, lever, gauges, and what not. There were the intricate devices through which this U-boat operated on the high seas…Why, youngsters will have a field day with all these things!” exclaimed Cornelius J. Hagan, U-505 committee member and co-owner of Indian Hill Stone Company. “Even daddies will be craning their necks to get close looks at machinery and torpedo control equipment.” For Harry S. Cuttermore, another U-505 committee member and a civil engineer, “This submarine has appeal for patriotism because it vividly displays that it took courage by our men in uniform to bring it back in one piece.”34

  As enthusiasm coursed through Chicago the issues of where the boat would end up and how it would be displayed began to be more fully explored. On April 27, a headline in the Chicago American announced, “Inspiration: Museum Plans U-505 Shrine.” Until now it was not exactly clear where or how the boat would be displayed. The museum had offered to spend $25,000 to provide a proper setting and demonstrate to the Navy that everyone was serious about the idea, but the issue had not yet been officially settled. Few, however, doubted that if the boat came to Chicago the museum would indeed be its future home. Its plans included a 200-seat theater to show film of the dramatic capture, after which visitors would walk through covered walkways into and out of the boat. Exhibit galleries before and after the boat tour would display various war trophies. It had already been decided that should the boat end up at the science museum, holes would be cut into the side so visitors would not have to negotiate the difficult hatches. It would also be heated, and artificial lighting would be provided. Those issues were still open to debate, but the reason for exhibiting the boat was clear: “Such an exhibit would be an excellent inspiration because U-505 represents a triumph of American forces in a war.” Now in the midst of an arms race with the USSR and with a successful global war behind the country, the earlier intent to refuse to “glorify war” by exhibiting a military machine seems to have fallen by the wayside.35

  The committee wasted no time moving its plans along. By April 29 the Chicago Park District Board unanimously agreed to issue any permits necessary to bring the boat ashore and haul it across park land to the museum. This was another important step the committee used to cement commitment from the Navy. Vice Admiral R. F. Good, logistics officer for the Chief of Naval Operations, reiterated again the Navy fully intended to transfer title to U-505 to Chicago as long as all preparations had been duly performed. Another hurdle had been cleared.36

  The Detroit Free Press, meanwhile, watching the event unfold from afar, published an article wondering aloud why the people of Chicago would invest civic pride and dollars in an old rusty German wreck. “For reasons best known to itself,” began the editorial, “Chicago wants the now obsolete old wreck for its Museum of Science and Industry…. Every city is entitled to its own enthusiasms. New York, for instance, is in a twitter over the unveiling of a new marble statute of Aphrodite which rivals in beauty the Venus of Milo at the Louvre…. Her beauty remains timeless, and unlike a rusty old war relic she will never become obsolete.” The observation smacked of sour grapes, at least to the Chicago Daily News, which shot back, “It is interesting to note that the Free Press is unable to point to any activity in Detroit, either patriotic or aesthetic to match the proceedings in Chicago and New York.” The barbs sank to lower levels when the Chicago paper began discussing Detroit’s sub-par professional sports teams, namely the “toothless Tigers” who had finished in lowly 8th place the previous year. Even at this early date Chicagoans had an emotional investment in the “obsolete old wreck,” which they would soon see as a measure of civic accomplishment and patriotism.

  The details were moving forward when suddenly the U-505 committee experienced a change in leadership. Painted in some accounts as a shake-up, many had reported simply that Goodrich had decided to withdraw his leadership due to health reasons. It did appear that a new approach was desired. “Torpedo,” announced one newspaper article. “A fuse has been lit which threatens to sink efforts to bring the captured Nazi submarine, U-505, to Chicago. The explosion may result in the resignation…of William Goodrich…and may singe the epaulets of Rear Admiral Daniel V. Gallery.” It was becoming clear the Navy, restricted by law in what it could do financially, was not going to pay for any of the services required to get U-505 into shape. The course the committee had been following, however, was all about getting someone else to foot the bill instead of digging in to aggressively raise the necessary funds. It was time for a change in direction and leadership. Goodrich, the retired industrialist who had been heading up Mayor Kennelly’s U-505 committee, was replaced by two men—in recognition of just how difficult it would be to raise the needed cash. The co-chairmen were Carl Stockholm, owner of Stockholm Cleaners, and Robert Crown, Vice President of Material Services Corporation.37

  Two more significant hurdles to acquiring title to the boat were cleared that June. Navy Secretary Robert B. Anderson notified the speaker of the House of Representatives and the President of the Senate of his intention to award U-505 to Chicago for display at the Museum of Science and Industry. Illinois Senator Everett Dirksen, in turn, notified Chicago Mayor Kennelly of the good news. There was only one stipulation: if another community filed a claim within 60 days of the notification to Congress, the legislators would have to decide which city would get the boat. The second stumbling block knocked aside was an agreement between the Museum of Science and Industry and the Navy. The museum had to agree formally to accept custody of the submarine and be responsible for its upkeep—without any expense to the Federal government. Museum Director Lohr, as previously noted, quickly committed $25,000 to install the boat as an indication of the museum’s commitment. With the momentum now fully on its side the committee dispatched another team to Portsmouth over the 1953 Fourth of July weekend to prepare a final engineering report to confirm projected budget estimates in advance of a formal fundraising announcement.39

  It was Thursday, July 9,1953, when the fund drive was officially announced. This time Lenox Lohr informed everyone that having U-505 in Chicago would serve a two-fold purpose: the city would get a permanent war memorial and realize the wishes of museum founder Julius Rosenwald. The goal for the fund drive was set high at $225,000—$40,000 of which was needed immediately to ready U-505 for the 2, 730-mile tow to Chicago. And it was a good thing, because some of the boat’s problems were more serious than originally believed, and would require more than the early estimate of $100,000. The committee, already emotionally invested in the idea of owning U-505, recommended moving ahead with its plans.40 The additional $125,000 was earmarked for the tow to Chicago, further repairs and restoration, and placing the boat alongside the museum. The grassroots nature of the fundraising was illustrated by the plea to extend the drive to local school children. “The exhibition will be educational, and the kids will love to have a part in bringing this historic relic to Chicago,” explained P. F. Brautigan, the Illinois commander of the American Legion.41 Pledge cards were sent out to hundreds of Chicagoans. Area residents were invited to participate by sending their donations directly to the museum “in care of the U-505 fund.” Some committee membe
rs primed the pump by contributing $10,000 on the first official day of the fundraising effort.

  The first fundraising meeting was with the Rotary Club of Chicago. Some 350 members were on hand at the Morrison Hotel to hear Admiral Gallery tell his story of the capture of U-505. He also discussed the benefits gained from the capture of U-505, such as a better understanding of German acoustic torpedoes and the acquisition of code books and “code machines.” Gallery, of course, was unable to speak directly about the Enigma machine or matters of intelligence in anything but a very general manner. “With them,” he explained, “we sat in on the German frequencies and read their messages for the rest of the war.” That generalized explanation was easy to grasp. The deeper truth—of how the British had broken into the Enigma code much earlier and how we had been reading German messages for much of the war—was still top secret and would not be revealed to the world for another twenty years. Ironically, even Gallery probably never realized the full extent of the naval intelligence efforts against the U-boats. Occasionally his overstated claims caused him some embarrassment. British hackles were raised, for example, by his description of the extent of the American contribution to reading German code. Gallery and Lohr, however, were merely barkers at a circus intent on raising funds to preserve a submarine, and were not trying to carve in stone some historical truth to slight our British allies. If the case had to be overstated a tad, so be it. At this stage, the preservation of the boat was more important.

  The mayor’s committee played the local media well and knew how to use it to advantage. Having the Tribune as an official backer on the project certainly helped the cause as well. Press releases and stories appeared regularly throughout the campaign to let the locals know the status of the growing fund. Readers knew when the project was succeeding or faltering, and read with interest the many changes in direction as the project unfolded. The important concept to be grasped was that a grass roots effort was required for the project to succeed, so it was important local citizens felt they had a stake in its success. Interest flourished when articles began discussing the sailors who had pulled off the capture. The search was on for Chicago veterans who had participated in the event and the museum was trying to track down the boarding party from USS Pillsbury. Stories of the dramatic capture mesmerized the citizenry and served to energize everyone. As might be expected, one of the most popular fundraising tools was the spectacular film of U-505’s capture. Utilizing actual combat footage of the event, the Navy created two different films about U-505 and a third was produced by the museum using both Navy films. The first, clumsily titled “And Now It Can Be Told,” was screened to war production plants and assorted patriotic groups to instill patriotism. The second film, “Away Boarders,” was a variation of that film. The third movie, “The Story of U-505,” would eventually find a place in the museum’s U-505 theater to inform visitors about the event before they boarded the submarine. The first two films used much of the same combat footage but were edited differently. Footage recreating certain events was added to all three movies to fill in gaps that were not caught on camera in June 1944. These scenes included staged reenactments of Gallery watching events unfold, the boarding party whaleboat being lowered and ordered away, and similar actions. At least two versions of each film exist in the Museum of Science and Industry archives. They offer an interesting study in the subtle art of film production, editing, and war propaganda. Primary differences include variations of music, narration, and edits depending on the intended audience. On the fundraising trail Gallery often appeared as a star attraction to introduce the film and take questions afterward from potential donors. Later he would pique the interest of audiences by announcing some of the footage had never been seen by anyone outside of naval personnel.42

  Donors were also impressed by the willingness of the committee members to forego any reimbursements for costs they incurred while traveling or working on the project. Every dime donated for U-505 would go directly to getting the boat to the museum.43 As a further incentive, donor recognition levels were established; $500, for example, would get your name on a plaque that would eventually be hung inside the exhibit. When Milwaukee began making noise about landing U-505, Chicagoans took it personally and worked harder to raise money. Donations soared.44

  Gallery, meanwhile, continued beating the drum for Chicago and the museum. He was closely wrapped up in the entire affair and so took it personally when anyone questioned why so much money should be spent to preserve a German submarine. In August the admiral penned a lengthy and thoughtful editorial for the Chicago Daily News. “Why collect funds to bring an old German submarine here and install it at the Museum of Science and Industry?” began the Gallery piece. “Admittedly, the U-boat will not improve the comfort and convenience of life in Chicago, nor will it affect taxes one way or the other. In a material sense, it will be of no practical value. But it will have an emotional and historic impact that will be of great and continuing benefit to the community.” With a patriotic flare, Gallery explained how these benefits would come to pass:

  U-505 will serve a dual purpose, commemorating those who have given their lives to maintain our control of the seas, and reminding future generations that this country owes its present greatness to sea power, and even in the atomic age must control the seas to stay alive.

  It will do this with a unique symbol of victory at sea—the only German submarine ever boarded and captured, and the first enemy warship so captured by our Navy since 1815.

  The Middle West has hundred of memorials commemorating land battles of the Civil, Spanish, and World wars. But there is none recalling the two great battles of the Atlantic in which German U-boats almost drove our ships off the sea. U-505 will be a fitting memorial to the 75, 000 Americans who lost their lives at sea in those battles….

  The principal gainers from this project will be the youngsters. Over 4,000 schools from 39 states send classes to the museum each year, and 200,000 school children visited there last year…. This will not be the usual inert, dust-covered, museum exhibit. It will be a dynamic, living one, recapturing for those who see it the heroic mood of the afternoon when our boys made naval history by boarding U-505.

  In this day and age, too many of us judge every question on the basis of, “What is there in it for me?” There is nothing much in this project for any one individual—no professional fund raisers are being employed in it. But there’s a great deal for the community and the future. When a country becomes so absorbed in the present it forgets its heroic past, then its future is in danger.45

  Gallery’s powerful editorial satisfied many but did not fully silence critics. A February 2, 1954, rebuttal to the patriotic theme espoused by Gallery and others appeared in the Chicago Sun Times. “I don’t agree…that acquiring the submarine U-505 for a permanent exhibit in Chicago will serve to ‘instill in the hearts and minds of our young people a knowledge of the sacrifices necessary to make a country great,’” retorted Louis Schoichet. “Let’s face it. The submarine would be nothing more than a mechanical curiosity. If we want to do homage to navy heroes, let’s record their deeds in literature for posterity, and use the funds necessary to bring the sub here for a worthy charity or a foundation in memory of these heroes.”46 An editorial over the signature “Ex-Sailor” echoed much the same sentiment two days later: “Yes, 2.5 million, mostly children, will see the ‘intricate machinery’ [of U-505] which is now completely outmoded by our own new atomic submarine. The money…used for this useless project would be of much more benefit if donated to veterans’ hospitals”47

  As one might imagine, the word “Nazi” could whip up a firestorm in any conversation; using it in conjunction with the boat sparked anger at the idea of preserving one of Hitler’s “wolf” boats. The “Nazi” submarine, some said, was “evil” and no amount of money should be used to memorialize such a thing. “If you have a poll on the Nazi submarine matter, put me in the ‘no’ column,” barked one resident. “Some day it, too, will probabl
y end up a neglected piece of rust.”48 Others, echoing the pre-World War II beliefs of the museum, decried using the U-boat as a memorial. Who, they collectively inquired, wanted a lasting reminder of the terrible nature of war?

  Objections about the boat and its potential meaning were relatively small in number and the donation drive continued without interruption. The steady stream of smaller donations was occasionally punctuated with heftier sums: an anonymous $5,000 donation and a $1,000 check from the Chicago-based Hilton hotel chain. Approximately $25,000 was raised during just the first month. Heady predictions were offered that within another four weeks the $40,000 needed to lift U-505 into dry-dock would be in hand. The early results were impressive but time was running short. The committee’s goal was to move U-505 into dry-dock in Portsmouth, complete the needed repairs (estimated at four weeks), and get the boat underway to Chicago before the fall storms hit the Atlantic Ocean. The initial fundraising success was indeed promising, but the window to accomplish so much so soon was closing rapidly.