In Drydock at Southhampton

Michelson made an unexpected visit to dry dock at Southhampton in 1962

At about the time of its movement from Bergen to Belfast, USNS Michelson made an unexpected visit to dry dock in the late summer or early fall of 1962 to fix a problem with the hull and/or sonar domes. Roger Oldes, detachment photographer at that time, was likely the one who took the artfully composed photo. Our 455 foot converted Victory hull is dwarfed in the immensity of the dock, intended for  the great Cunard and White Star Line passenger ships.

On the right is a photo of the first RMS Queen Elizabeth  (1939-68) taken in the same dry dock, date unknown. Too long for the Panama Canal at 1031 feet, the Queen left plenty of room in the dock for removal of drive shafts and four propellors.

Top photo furnished by Marty Rombach.



In Belfast: Paying with Pounds

In Belfast when buying dinner, a round of drinks or souvenirs we had to learn to navigate the British pound. Nobody could ever have invented the old UK currency system. It must have evolved that way. Until 1971 when they moved to a decimal system (1£ = 100p) overnight, people payed in pounds, shillings and pence, with some quirky variations.
 
One Shilling Coin
The old units of currency were abbreviated as: 
  • £  (pound), officially pound sterling
  •  /  (shilling)
  • d  (pence, inexplicably)
  • gn  (guinea)
  • -   meant no pennies

For example:
  • One pound (1£) was composed of twenty shillings (20/-). 
  • One shilling (1/-) was equal to twelve pence (12d).
  • All this made a pound equal to 240 pence.
  • One pence (or penny) was two ½ pence (pronounced HAY-p'nee) or four farthings.

Simple, huh? Something priced at two shillings and six pence (2/6d) was called two and six. That's easy to understand. Then the quirky stuff. Two pence (2d) was known as tuppence. Three pence (3 d) was thrupence or a thrupenny bit. Two shillings (2/-) was a florin. Sixpence (6d) was a tanner. One shilling (1/) was a bob. While two and six (2/6d)  was also known as half a crown, there was no such coin or note as a crown. A pound was, and still is, known as a quid.

Expensive stuff was frequently priced in guineas, also not a unit of currency. One guinea was defined as one pound plus one shilling (1£ 1/-) or 21/-. So, a refrigerator with a 200 guinea price tag was really going to cost 210 pounds (210£). Prices in guineas made expensive items look 10% cheaper.

For those who found all this incomprehensible the best way to deal with it was to pay with the largest note available and pocket the change. By the time I became accustomed to using British money the ship left Belfast for good. 

Today the British pound is evenly and happily divided into 100 (new) pence. Gone with the old system are most of the quirky names. The guinea, shilling and (old) penny (d) are no more, but new terms and pound slang will probably arise in time. For example 20p is often pronounced twenty pee.

In today's UK decimal currency the one shilling coin is still legal tender, the equivalent of five (new) pence (5p), or one twentieth of a pound. Sometimes the 2 shilling coin turns up, now worth 10p. Most people in UK have no knowledge of how their their old currency functioned.

Belfast: Michelson Sailors Ashore

Belfast City Hall
This seaport city was the sole port of call for Michelson from fall 1962 through summer of '63. It was a happy place for most of the crew. Principal watering holes were the unlikely named Thompson's Honolulu Bar and a night club called The Embassy. Other spots were the lounge at the Royal Avenue Hotel and The Queen's Lounge in the Queen's Arcade building. For really late night libations the British Legion allowed us in the bar if we bought drinks for the old military pensioners.

While in port dry cleaners and tailors came aboard.  I went to the dentist and got new eyeglasses, appointments arranged by the ship's local agent. Also went to the cinema and theater. Our chief petty officer and I attended a meeting of the local ham radio club. A visit to a Belfast bookstore yielded most of the novels of Thomas Hardy. These were excellent reading during down time while underway. Hardy's descriptions of his native Dorset, which he called Wessex, are amazing.

Belfast was quiet at that time, before "the troubles" erupted in ethnic/religious strife. Besides the then ubiquitous Wimpy's burger places there were good restaurants in and around Belfast. I learned to drink bordeaux wine, which the British call claret, with dinner. Learned that you need to specify scotch or irish when you order whisky. One of the field engineer guys was French. He always asked for Dubonnet, which was popular at that time. Now, you can't even find it in Paris. 

One vendor came aboard peddling duty free booze. He got a lot of orders. The stuff, mostly Canadian Club whisky, was delivered directly to Michelson's number four hold.

When a member of the ship's MSTS crew was admitted to the Royal Victoria hospital some of us paid him a visit. This place was huge, definitely victorian and run by the National Health Service (NHS). I don't remember why he was in there but the poor guy was lost in a sea of beds "on the ward". 

Some of us rented a car and drove north along the coast through County Antrim. We got to see the Giants' Causeway and Londonderry (a/k/a Derry). Will report elsewhere on excursions to Scotland and the Irish Republic.


Belfast: Titanic Shipyard

"This is where they built the Titanic". Belfast has made a  tourist attraction out of the shipyard where the poorly designed and/or ineptly operated liner was born. Back in the early 1960s the Harland & Wolff shipyard had clearly seen better days. Empty were the gigantic slipways where the big ship and its sisters Olympic and Britannic were built. The yard always seemed dark, gray and sort of dismal even in the daytime. Not much shipbuilding going on. Men wearing neckties and tweed jackets shoveled coal. 

The port and shipyard at Belfast. Michelson made port calls here from autumn 1962 through the late spring of 1963. Harland & Wolffe shipyard is being turned into an RMS Titanic tourist attraction.
 
During a January '63 in port period Michelson was at one of the shipyard piers. At breakfast somebody announced that an ocean liner had appeared overnight and was tied up across the pier. Sure enough, it was Canberra, of the P&O Lines (Peninsular & Oriental Steam Navigation Company). This was a huge, beautiful, white, modern looking vessel. While it had steam turbine power plant, it was propelled electrically as are most ships today.

P&O Lines SS Canberra, built in the Titanic's shipyard at Belfast.

Built for the UK to Australia route, Canberra went into service in 1961, hauling British emigrants for a reported fare of 10£ each. After an electrical fire near Malta, Canberra off loaded its passengers and steamed under its own power to Belfast  and the shipyard where it was built. After four months of repairs Canberra went back into service on the emigrant route.



Belfast: Smithfield Market & Granny

One day while Michelson was in port I decided to go antique shopping at Belfast's Smithfield Market. Not far from the city center, this was a big flea market housing multiple vendors of well, junk. On a serendipitous urge, I bought a large, noisy brass bell with a wood handle and a souvenir coffee mug commemorating the 1935 silver jubilee of King George V.  


A sense of cosmic nuttiness overcame me when I saw an oval framed photo of an elderly woman. "That's a beautiful old Victorian frame" said the shopkeeper. Indeed it was. On a whim I bought that too.

My bell was king of grungy, encrusted with grime and that green stuff that tarnishes brass. The ship's chief electrician let me use his electric wire brush and buffing wheel.  That got the gunk off. Some hours later, with the help of some brass polish, the old bell looked pretty good. 

Granny
The picture attracted more attention. I wanted to hang it in my stateroom but was concerned that others might not find it appropriate. Some people had no sense of humor. One of the navy guys told me "you could say it's your grandmother ... nobody could make you take it down". Sure enough, he opened up the frame and inscribed my photo "To Johnny with love from Granny" in a shaky looking hand. From then on the woman in the old Victorian frame was "Granny".

Having little wall space in my stateroom, I hung it on a wall (a/k/a bulkhead) in the survey control center where I worked. Until I left the ship Granny swayed back and forth as the ship rolled. Granny observed all activities and she was on watch 24 hours a day. Nobody told me to take Granny's picture down. 

After all these years I still have the bell and George V coffee cup, but I left Granny aboard the good ship Michelson.



In Belfast: Mothers Day

Michelson was in port at Belfast one Sunday in late March of 1963. Some of the navy guys decided that it would be nice to phone home to their moms for Mothers Day. Altogether they went to the post office, which was the place to make calls if you had no phone. On any other day this expedition might have been a stop on the way to a pub, but bars were closed on Sundays. They discovered that, upon reaching their moms, that this was not mothers day at all. It seems that what they were told was correct, Sunday March 24, 1963 was Mothers Day in the UK, the fourth Sunday of lent. However, in the USA it is not observed until the second Sunday of May.

All their moms said something like "thanks for calling anyway", "nice to hear your voice" and "what a nice gesture; you are very thoughtful". Oh well.



Michelson Leaves Belfast

In the early summer of 1963 Michelson left Northern Ireland for good.

Despite the cultural affinity and emotional ties that some of the crew had in Belfast others looked forward to the Med's warm, sunny skies. Our two sister ships were there already, Bowditch operating out of Piraeus, Dutton out of Barcelona.

Several of the navy people had been in Barcelona before while serving on other ships. They knew the watering holes, night clubs and restaurants. The second mate's relief would be there as he and his wife were going on vacation. Oceanographers planned flying to Majorca. The navy executive officer (XO) lectured us on how to behave and what to expect, reading out of the State Department's guide to Spain.

Hoping to have a bit of spare time on the voyage, I bought some more books and, on a whim, a kite. Why not try to fly a kite behind the ship? Yes, the idle mind is the devil's workshop. 

Steaming through the Strait of Gibraltar we had a headwind, from the east. Time to break out the kite! Launching it was easy. At the stern, I relaxed on the OC Hoist watching the kite dance in the wind. From "The Rock" a signal light flashed "AA AA AA" in morse, the international signal for "unknown station identify yourself". Perhaps an old victory ship with a kite flying aft attracted somebody's attention or one of Gibraltar's barbary apes was learning morse code. Michelson did not respond to the light signal, my kite crashed into the sea and we continued on our way.