Tom Kocan, Richie Cunningham, Bill Doherty, and Bob Leonti.

UNBELIEVABLE, is the only word that comes to mind when describing this past weekend.  Driving down, all sorts of thoughts were running through my mind.  Chief amongst them was that I was surrendering my boat, my baby, my 8-year fight to save her, to another group of people who seemed nice enough through email, but I had never met them in person before.

Would they do right by her?  I suspected they would, but there had been so many setbacks and disappointments in the past that I was reserving judgment until I met these guys and looked into their eyes.  The Indians say that the eyes are the "wells of the soul."  I went on board and met Harry Jaeger and Tom Robinson, looked into their eyes for the first time, and immediately felt comfortable that the Tam would be well cared for.  That is of course with we Tam veterans as an integral part of the team.

Saturday morning, I was all set to be serious and business-like and get to work.  Then I looked up and saw Richie Cunningham walking toward me with Bob Leonti and Tom Kocan, all from my old crew.  Richie threw his arms around me, gave me a hug and that did it.  We were all 19 again.  Memories flooded back through the years as if they happened yesterday.

Everywhere we went, we stopped and reminisced about old SAR cases, or even something as silly as when we used to line up from the dock, up the gangway through the mess deck, and two decks down to dry stores to bring the food on board.  I was teamed with Rich who was a DC and Eric who was a Marine Safety Officer.  In civilian life, I was an operating engineer, so there were three good pairs of eyes roving over every square inch of the Tam as we punchlisted all of her blemishes, leaking pipes, rust, and corrosion.

Every time I was feeling tired or sore, I just kept repeating to myself a refrain akin to Dorothy of Oz fame, "I'm nineteen again, I'm nineteen again."  Then I looked at our next obstacle.  We were to punchlist the ammo trunk and magazine.  Well, I had been there before, as a youngster on the Tam in 1968, I was the hot shell man for the gun crew and spent some time in the ammo trunk handling 33-pound fixed ammunition.  Fast forward 35 years, now, I looked at the almost 3-story descent and kept saying: "nineteen, nineteen, you can do it!"

Elsewhere, the MK’s and Electricians Mates were bringing her back to life again around us.  We hear the mains come on, cough, falter and start up again.  Each engine had a couple of problems here and there, but there was nothing like listening to that throaty rumble and understanding that she was waking up after a 9-year slumber.  Every time the MK’s started up an engine, I paused for a moment and just listened.  Her heart was pumping again.  That felt good for sure!

Relief swept over me because we had fought the fight for eight years to make the “Damn Tam” useful again.  When I first laid eyes on her, I was appalled at the apparent disrespect and neglect shown her.  The germ of an idea started in the Fall of 1994.  It is now a seedling.  But, there is something that needs to be said here:  I think we should all remember that while the Tamaroa Maritime Foundation may well be the savior, there were several folks who fought like hell to care for her, and make plans to use her, keeping her in the limelight for several years.  We had many failed attempts starting with a museum in Florida who wanted her, then said they were not ready.  Then there was an attempt to use her as a maritime school for underprivileged children.  That too fell through.

I wrote an Op-ed piece that was published in the New York Daily News on September 1, 2000.  Now the public was starting to take note that those who had been entrusted with the care of the Tamaroa were in fact ignoring her.  We were able to get a workparty together and pump out her bilges that had been filling through a leak in the shaft alley hatch.  We repaired it and were continuing the fight.  The next candidate was a state agency who wanted to use her for a green classroom.  Once more we could not get the written commitment we needed.  Now the Tam was an embarrassment to several governmental agencies and they did the most expedient thing.  They put her up for auction on the GSA website.

We tried to raise the funds to purchase her, but in the end a fellow from Alabama won the bid.  We decided it would be a good idea, regardless of how disappointed we were, to stay in contact with him—offering our help.  It paid off.  He invited a couple of interested parties to Baltimore to meet a gentleman interested in purchasing the Tam.  We veterans threw our support behind Tom Robinson and Harry Jaeger.  This past weekend—filled with memories and hard work—was the result.  We look forward to a successful conclusion with the Tam operating and moored in Virginia in the future.

Let’s not forget though, the crew of the John J. Harvey fireboat—who freely gave their time and effort to care for the Tam however possible while she languished in New York—as well as the Municipal Art Society of New York.  Without these folks' help, the Tam may well have been scrapped and lost forever.  I know there will always be a place in my heart for them!  And by the way, the Chief Engineer and Assistant Engineer of the Harvey—Tim Ivory and Jessica Dulong—were here this past weekend as volunteers.  They still can’t let her go!