The Olympia Admiral Dewey's.flagship ar rhe 8a{{le ofManila Bay in rhe Spanish-American l#irof 1898, steams into acrion in awe-inspiring fashion. She is a forceful expression ofrhe new indusrrial America, and ofrhe iron and coal rechnology rhar is replacing rhe old ways of wood and canvas at sea . The United States came crashing into world power status and awareness in rhis brief struggle. Olympia is a unique survivor of her era and is moored todays at Penn's Landing in Philadelphia.
Carl says he has redesigned the skyline so many times, he should have been on the city's planning comm ission.
New Directions Now, it is 1964 and everything happens at once. Philadelphia Electric gave up its advertising just as we married. Shipping lines came upon hard times and cut their commissions. It was time to pursue other things in the wings and find new projects. One that proved most rewarding in futures and satisfaction was the United States Naval Institute, which needed art for the covers of its publication , Proceedings. Carl, from his studio and home in Queens Village, New York , had already started with USNI covers, when he had time to spare. In our studio apartment on 36th Street in Manhattan, after we married, he pursued work with the USNI to supply more covers for the Proceedings and help create their print program . He eventually produced 20 paintings on naval topics. Many were made into prinis and at this date nearly 50,000 of his USNI prints are in someone's home or office. The readers of the Proceedings proved an enthusiastic audience and soon requests came in for private commissions-chiefly from those who wished to commemorate an experience in World War II. Since the individual's scene was etched in his memory, all details had to be accurate, even to-say-how the radar was placed on that particular ship in 1943. Because gear on ships changed quickly during war years, Carl had to play detective on details, with the invaluable help of the USNI photo library. Pleasant experiences resulted from our association with the US Naval Institute. We had no honeymoon , since Carl had to meet a January deadline with his painting of the USS Thresher, doomed SEA HISTORY, SPRING 1984
nuclear submarine, so we considered our trips to Annapolis for consultation as sentimental journeys. We had the luck to stay in Carvel Hall before it was torn down and enjoyed the friendship of the personnel at the Institute. An offshoot of painting the several famous battleships, now retired as memorials, was pleasure trips to attend the awarding of the paintings by the Institute to the memorial ships and their busy commissions dedicated to keeping them alive for the public. I remember a luncheon aboard the USS Alabama, in Mobile, when the Mayor gave us both keys to the city and to me, a kiss on the cheek for the photographers. We journeyed to Fall River for installing the USS Massachusetts painting, also at a luncheon and to Philadelphia for a party to unveil the painting of Admiral Dewey's USS Olympia. On these earlier journeys , we are glad we took the train . The glorious ones Carl and I remembered separately were about at the end of their run . Here I thought marrying a marine artist would at least warrant a cruise (these came later) for a honey moon. Instead we took the last run of the Panama Limited to New Orleans, satisfy ing Carl's hobby as a train buff. The trip to New Orleans was not without its purpose. As a new venture, Carl had the des ire to paint " how we get our seafood," prompted a bit by the sight of oyster skipjacks in Chesapeake Bay. Along the Gulf Coast , he covered shrimping with on-the-spot sketching from Galveston to Mobile. We also made several junkets to Key West , stay ing on the " working side' ~ of the key to sketch shrimp and turtle boats and the ever-changing sky. He only was taken by the local fi shing boats and when heavy, " ugly" commerc ial ships came into use, he abandoned this seafood project. In the '60s the Reader's Digest was commiss ioning original art 19