South Mountain Restoration Center

The South Mountain Restoration Center began in 1901 with the construction of a single shack in the mountains of Mont Alto, Pennsylvania. Over the last one hundred years, the campus treated thousands of people for tuberculosis, mental illness and provided general care for the elderly. What began as a forestry camp, morphed into the White Pine Camp, the Mont Alto Sanatorium, the South Mountain Sanatorium, the Samuel G. Dixon State Hospital, the South Mountain Geriatric Center and finally, the South Mountain Restoration Center.

Mont Alto, PA: The Beginning

The town of Mont Alto, in Pennsylvania, began to support settlers in the 1760's, but it wasn't until the 1840's that the township expanded to include rolling mills, flouring mills, distilleries, a furnace and the first post office, which later served the center for a number of years. The Mont Alto Iron Works was established by Daniel and Samuel Hughes in the early 1800's and employed 500 local residents into the late 1800's. In 1872, Iron Works began paving a ten mile railroad as a means to transport coal to the iron furnace on the hill, the driving force behind the South Mountain and Mont Alto area.

In 1901, when Dr. Joseph Trimble Rothrock, the father of the forestry movement in Pennsylvania, took a group of locals to the mountains of Mont Alto to camp, one camper with asthma received great relief from the fresh mountain air, which led to the construction of a single mountain shack where he could seek solace. It's not likely Rothrock's intentions were to create a sanatorium, but the sanatorium developed from that single shack.
 

Dr. Joseph Trimble Rothrock

Dr. Joseph Rothrock was born in 1839. He attended public school for a few years, but due to poor health, he was taken out of school by his father and put to work on a local farm. He attended Harvard University until the Civil War broke out, when he was drafted. After being severely injured during battle, he was discharged and returned to Harvard. He graduated with a B.S. in Science and Botany, then moved on to finish Medical School at the University of Pennsylvania where he graduated in 1867.

Rothrock praciticed medicine throughout Pennsylvania for a number of years and in the late 1880's became President of the Pennsylvania Forestry Association. In 1904, he resigned due to poor health. One source claims that Dr. Rothrock also experienced "lung trouble" and suffered from tuberculosis, but in the early 1900's scientists were just beginning to learn the nature of such diseases.




The History of Tuberculosis

Tuberculosis in the nineteenth century was known as the "the white plague." Bovine tuberculosis, which was transfered to humans via cow's milk, would attack the bones, possibly leaving a patient crippled. Pulmonary tuberculosis, an airborne form, attacked the lungs and an infected person could spread the disease each time they coughed or spoke. At the time, the disease was difficult to treat since most patients would not see a doctor if they were experiencing symptoms (cough, lethargy, decline in health or pain in the chest) but most of the time, those who were infected wouldn't immediately exhibit any symptoms.

An infected patient experiencing the horrors of the disease would lose their appetite, cough severely, run a fever and have difficulty breathing. As the disease progressed towards the final stages, the body would waste away and the lung tissue would break up and be coughed up. The result was hollow faces with recessed eyes and shriveled bodies.

In 1882 Robert Kroch discovered the tubercle bacillus strain, which put a whole new spin on the treatment of the disease. After his discovery, the thought was that tuberculosis was preventable and curable. Most doctors treated patients by prescribing a change of location, fresh air, rest and excersise. This caused patients to be removed from their homes, where they could possibly infect others, and placed in a Sanatorium.


White Pine Camp: The Early Sanatorium (1901-1907)

Several additional shacks were built on the sanatorium campus over the next few years, due to private donations, and a few years later, Rothrock's camp received state funding. Construction began on an office building, water system and six cottages. Additionally, the funding helped furnish each cabin with beds, a kerosene lantern and woodstove.

In 1905, Rothrock started his own private sanatorium known as the Mountain Side Sanatorium, but only two short years later, he sold the property as he had no real intention to lead the fight against tuberculosis. At that time, the adjacent White Pine Camp housed 30 patients who paid one dollar per day for treatment, which was based on a balanced diet, fresh air and a careful balance of rest and excersise.


The Mont Alto Sanatorium (1907-1918)


"Dixon Cottages" at the Mont Alto Sanatorium.

Until now, the camp belonged to the Department of Forestry, but an act of legislature in 1907 allowed the transfer of the camp to the Department of Health. Additionally, $600,000 was appropriated to the camp, now known as the Mont Alto Sanatorium. This was the mark of a major effort to combat tuberculosis, as declared by Dr. Samuel G Dixon, Commissioner of Health.

In the first five years, the patient consensus grew from 30 to nearly 1,000. Due to the quickly growing population, a total of fifty-six "Dixon Cottages" were built to aid in the treatment of tuberculosis. The corners of the twenty six foot square cabins were aligned to the compass to allow an equal amount of light into each of the four rooms.

South Mountain Sanatorium (1918-1956)

In 1920, a second infirmary was built and eventually became the sanatorium's first children's hospital, otherwise known as a preventorium. In these days, children were extremely susceptible to tuberculosis and were sent to the preventorium for a few reasons. Some were malnourished and underweight, while some had actually been exposed to the disease. By sending these children to South Mountain, it was believed the full development of the disease would be prevented.

Shortly after the hospital opened, a tuberculosis training school for nurses opened on the campus. A nurse received training for two years and would spend time within various parts of the sanatorium as part of the program. Most of the nurses who worked at the sanatorium were recovered patients who were less uncomfortable handling those infecte with the disease. 

Construction on the campus continued into the 1930's. A new wing was added to the preventorium, containing rooms for crippled children, classrooms and an auditorium. The preventorium and Nurse Homes closed in 1940 and were demolished shortly thereafter. Between 1938 and 1940, construction began on Units 1, 2 and 3 as well as a Nurse's Home and dining hall that still stand today. Unit 1 housed the most critical patients and contained operating suites, offices, kitchen, dining room, morgue and autopsy room, two movie theatres, an auditorium and bedside headsets for the patients.

The new four story Unit 2, Children's Preventorium, was designed by Morton Keast of Philadelphia and built by John McShain Inc. The central pavillion contained two wings, two indoor pools designed for tuberculosis patients, a library, four classrooms, excersise rooms, singe patient rooms, wards, an auditorium, lounges and a complete single family home for rehabilitation. 

Exterior of fourth floor single-family rehabilitation house.

Living room of rehabilitation house.

Boys and girls remained separate at all times in the sanatorium. The first floor of the preventorium was designed as a boys floor, with nurse's stations, while the second floor housed the girls. A typical day for a child at South Mountain would have started at 7:00am when they woke and received breakfast and then played indoors until 10:00am. Afterwards, they would drink milk from the wagon, have lunch and rest in bed for several hours. No talking or movement was allowed during this time. At 3:00pm, they would again line up for milk and shortly after, they would sit down for supper. Games were played inside the wards until 7:00pm and at that point, the children listened to the radio for an hour before 'lights out' at 8:00pm.

The lobby of Unit 2.

The children admitted to the South Mountain preventorium who had not yet developed tuberculosis depended on good air, rest, moderate excersise and good food, which was thought to be six raw eggs and three quarts of milk per day. The patients also underwent a number of treatments and procedures, including heliotherapy. This process would help build up their resistance to sunlight by exposing them to it gradually. If a patient had a more advanced disease, they might undergo surgery to help treat scar tissue build up in the lungs to make breathing easier. It was also common for Pneumothorax to be performed, a procedure which involved injecting air into the area around the lungs to help the lung collapse. A treatments such as this was not available to all patients, especially those with lung scar tissue. 


In 1945, the treatment of tuberculosis changed when a new, effective antibiotic was discovered. Streptomycin was an antibiotic given via injection, but it was highly toxic, had a number of side effects and a few of the strains actually became resistant to the medicine. In 1952, isonazid proved to be even more effective, less toxic and a patient immediately became noninfectious. In the upcoming years, patients admitted to sanatoriums were now released in a matter of months or even treated in general hospitals.

Samuel G. Dixon State Hospital (1956-1968)

Though the campus was again renamed, not much changed at the facility. Adult patients continued to be regulated just like the children in Unit 2. Patients in Unit 1 were ranked on a scale of four Roman numerals, determining their health status. The Class I patients were forced to remain flat in bed for the solid twenty four hours a day, only sitting up for meals. Class II patients were bedridden and confined to a wheelchair when moving among the facility and they would bathe with the assistance of a doctor or nurse. Class III patients were "restricted" but engaged in a number of activities as permitted by their doctor. They were able to walk to treatment rooms and restrooms and would have solarium visiting rights to watch television. They also participated in church services and walked to the dining hall for one meal every day. Class IV patients experienced the most freedom. They were able to participate in all activities: making their bed, attending movies and religious services as well as spending all meals in the dining hall.

Patients in Unit 2 were free to sit on the lawn behind the unit, weather permitting, and even got the opportunity to visit Unit 1 on movie nights. These patients required a minimum of 4 hours rest per day, but were free to move about the campus as long as they checked in with their ward during designated times.

Patients in all of the units in the sanatorium followed strict rules. Their wardrobe consisted of pajamas and bathrobes. The men were required to shave once every two days, to avoid the collection of germs inside their facial hair.  Smoking was permitted only with doctor's permission.

The healthier patients in the outer units were given two weeks out of the sanatorium, but never during the holidays, as that was flu outbreak time. Educational courses were given to children between the ages of six and eighteen, but adults wanting to finish their high school diploma could also take these classes. Parents were allowed to visit their children in the Preventorium every other Saturday.

In 1961, the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania still ran four tuberculosis hospitals including the Samuel G. Dixon State Hospital, but by 1963, the other three had closed. This signified a positive improvement in the treatment of the disease.

 
South Mountain Geriatric Center (1965-1968)

The state mental system in Pennsylvania by the 1900's was reaching a critical point. On average, the state hospitals were above capacity and approximately one-third of the mental patients were over the age of sixty-five. Most of these geriatric patients, when discharged, moved into the mental hospitals, but the mental hospitals did not provide adequate care for their medical and nursing needs. In turn, this caused the waiting list for patients needing serious mental care to increase rapidly. In 1964, the state approved the measures needed to establish geriatric facilities to care for these patients. Besides the South Mountain Geriatric Center, only one other geriatric hospital was founded in Pennsylvania.







At South Mountain, the new residents of the Geriatric Center, who transferred from Torrance State Hospital, lived on the first second and third floors of Unit 2, the old Children's Preventorium. Within the first two years, over 575 patients were admitted to the Geriatric Facility. On average, the patients were placed in a room with five beds. Wards were not locked, so procedures were taken to prevent patients from wandering and becoming confused.

The Samuel G. Dixon Hospital continued to operate within the other buildings on the campus. Unit 2 remained solely designated as the Geriatric Facility, but tuberculosis patients slowly began moving to the other hospitals in Pittsburg and Philadelphia. In 1972, the whole campus was devoted to Geriatrics, despite a long battle to re-open the tuberculosis hospital.

Third floor salon in Unit 2.


A typical patient room. This one contained 3 beds. 


South Mountain Restoration Center (1968-Present)

In 1968, the Office of Aging lowered the age limit required for admittance into a Geriatric Facility from sixty-five to twenty-one. At the time, the center's policy stated that in order to be admitted to South Mountain, the patient must currently reside in a state mental hospital or state school for mental retardation, preferably over the age of sixty-five, and require medical care, but not institutional care for psychosis or tuberculosis. The patient must not have a drug or alcohol addition or be a danger to themselves or others. Admission priority went to those who had a greater possibility of re-entering the community after rehabilitation.

However, daily life for the patients at the facility did not always revolve around rehabilitation. An area known as "Mohler Den," which resembled a social club, was set up in Unit 2 as a place where patients could socialize and play cards.

In the early 1970's, the patient count reached about 1,100, but less than a decade later, it dropped to 800. The reduction in patients caused the gradual closing of a number of buildings on the campus. In October 1985, Unit 2 closed due to a deteriorating roof.

Today, VisionQuest, a facility for troubled youth still operates where the first preventorium once stood. The South Mountain Restoration Center also continues to provide medital, nursing and rehabilitative care as well as placement services for those leaving the facility. The Center also prides itself on creating a high level of functionining for those patients unable to return to society.

"For my friend Rita -- I guess I looked like this 26 years ago in 1944. The camera never lies. Youthfully yours, Bud"

Sources:

• Yelinek, Kathryn. The History of South Mountain Restoration Center 1901-2001. Commonwealth of Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission, 2001.
• South Mountain (Mt Alto Sanitorium). Clyde A. Laughlin. York College of Pennsylvania. <http://goose.ycp.edu/~ttaylor/laughlin/south_mountain.htm>

Klotz Silk Throwing Mill

HISTORY

In the early 1900's, local town banker, Duncan Sloan caught word that a major company with a string of mills was searching for a new location. Mr. Sloan emphasized that the surplus rail and cheap labor in the town, not to mention the access to rail and steady employment, would contribute to the mill's success. Five weeks after this meeting, the ball was rolling and plans were underway. The city and mill company began searching for funding, as the total cost of constructing and outfitting the mill was $100,000. In August, 1905, construction began and the Klotz Mill opened 2 years later, in 1907.

In the first few years, raw silk was imported from Japan and China, then spun into thread at the mill.

The throwing process consisted of twisting and winding silk into yarn. Workers were responsible for removing full spools, replacing them with empty ones, tying "silk knots" in broken thread, steaming, dying and stretching the silk. Once the silk thread was spun on the bobbins, quills or cones, it was shipped from the plant.

Mill operators were mostly women and in the beginning they belonged to the United Mine Workers Union, a direct effect of their spouses belonging to the same Union. Eventually the representation shifted and the laborers became members of the United Textile Workers of America.

Klotz Silk Mill Employees, 1948.

Union rules and regulations in the early 1900's were very different than they are today. Monthly dues were fifteen cents and children as young as fourteen and fifteen worked at the mill and received checks.

 

When the Great Depression began, the mill, as with all other companies in the Unites States, suffered greatly. During the first few months of 1941, employment varied between 70 and 80 people, down from 200 in previous years. By December of that same year, only 5 people were on the mill payroll. A few short months later, in March, employment suddenly increased dramatically; a sign that the nation was at war.

During World War II, the supply of raw silk decreased due to the conflicts with Japan, which caused the mill to change focus and begin producing thread for military parachutes and rayon. Employment was up, production was high and the mill was flourishing. Unfortunately, once the war was over, it was evident production and employment was declining. Competition with larger companies began to take a toll on the small mill. Employment dropped to 100 and a labor dispute was causing uproar within the company.

Mill workers requested a pay raise to compete with nearby textile workers, causing mill superintendent to visit the company's headquarters. The request to raise the price of products, to help increase labor wages, was denied and a vote to strike was passed. When the workers began to strike in June 1957, the mill subsequently closed its doors. Only a very small staff of 4 continued to work at the mill for a number of years after production ceased.

The mill's closing had a big impact on the community. The small thriving town, once home to an Opera House, two newspapers, a glass factory and mine, was seeing the closing of the mill shortly after the mine ceased production, causing an economy collapse and decrease in population.


RECENT PHOTOS

"Worn" - Inside the worker lockers.

"Curtled" - Inside worker lockers.

"Army"

"Attention To Detail"

"Remnants"

"ADD"

"Standing Room Only"

"Aligned"

"These Bobbins Are Dirty"

"No Men Allowed"

"Falsified"

"Office Space"

"Collection Agency"

"Man Alive"

THE FUTURE OF THE MILL

To date, the mill has remained virtually untouched since it closed in 1957. Labor sheets, original silk labels from Japan, equipment and old documents still remain inside the mill. While its future remains uncertain, various plans are in the works to turn the site into a museum. Unfortunately the same remote location preventing vandals and thieves from destroying the place is also hindering the marketability of a historical site.

Please contact Tom: baygrowitz @ yahoo.com for more information. 

U.S.S. Holland AS-32 Submarine Tender

"Ghost Ships" - © Amy Heiden

The whipping wind chilled my ears and fingertips as I walked towards the National Defense Reserve Fleet Headquarters. The sun began to burn through the fog, revealing the silhouettes of the stoic ships in the distance. I walked down the dock and boarded the N.D.R.F. boat. As we embarked on the calm bay, the boat passed the colossal yet tranquil ships. As the details emerged from the shadows, I began to explore their history in my mind. Intrigued by their past, I began to imagine how they appeared during their time of operation. I envisioned men stationed at the guns; troops being transferred to and from war; submarines docked alongside the tenders while the weapons were restocked and the Captain sitting on the bridge guiding the ship. It was hard to fathom the thought of standing on the decks of these incredibly historic ships that once served to protect our country.

"Old and New" - © Amy Heiden

We docked at the ‘K Row’ and ascended the steep accommodation ladder of the first ship. Once aboard U.S.S. Comet, I noticed her pristine state - after all, she had been recently decommissioned. As I crossed the gangways between the ships, I noticed that each one sat in a different state of decay. The ships near the middle of the row, U.S.N.S. General Edwin D. Patrick and U.S.N.S. General John Pope, were incredibly rusted and worn. Grass that once rooted in the cracks of the tattered deck had turned brown. Metal chairs coated in rust sat with broken legs and ripped cushions, leaving the stuffing exposed. Layers of paint had peeled off the lifeboats and railings in such a way that flakes had collected in piles around the edges of the deck. I couldn’t help but equate these ships to humans in different stages of life. Some were teenagers, young, fresh and ready to take on the world, while others were elderly, weathered, tired and at the end of their lives.

My thoughts were abduptly interrupted when our group stopped near a hatch. We were going below deck of U.S.S. Holland (AS-32), a former submarine tender.

*          *          *
 

Rota, Spain - Courtesy of Bob TrippU.S.S. Holland (AS-32) was the second Hunley class submarine tender and the third Holland named in honor of John P. Holland, who built the first submarine commissioned by the Navy in 1900. Admiral Lawrence R. Daspit commissioned U.S.S. Holland on September 7, 1963 in Charleston, South Carolina.

Built a Fleet Ballistic Missile Submarine Tender, her mission was to service submarines, replenish their supply of food, fuel and weapons, as well as to repair or replace parts. She also acted as a place for the crew to rest before battle. Her first major mission, from 1964-1966, was across the Atlantic Ocean in Rota, Spain where she took over for U.S.S. Proteus, restocking missiles and supplies to the Polaris Submarines.

Sub Battery - Courtesy of ussbatfish.comIn 1968, she received her first overhaul, which was completed in January of 1969. She then returned to Rota, Spain, where she was stationed until 1972.

 After a few modifications in the United States, U.S.S. Holland set sail from Charleston, South Carolina (known as Site Four) to Holly Loch, Scotland. This time, there were a few new crew members, including Jose Garcia, who shared with me the ship’s unpublished history, the crew’s stories.

Jose Garcia was a crane operator/deck force/weapons handler on U.S.S. Holland from 1975-1977. A typical day for Jose and the crew started at 0800 with a deck call, where they would be read the ‘Time of the Day’ and receive the day’s assignments.

Though many of the crews’ tasks were strenuous, dangerous and mundane, it paid off to complete the work well and in a timely manner so they remained in good standing with the officer. If they were lucky, they would be assigned a more desirable position, like Jose’s favorite job, crane operator. Other crew duties included preventative maintenance tasks, such as painting the deck. But there were also higher priority duties, including transferring missiles and supplies to the submarines as well as changing their batteries, which was no easy task. Each battery weighed just over 1,600 pounds and had to be stored in acid proof tanks, to prevent damage if a leak occurred. Daily maintenance was required to prevent dangers, such as the effects of batteries coming into contact with salt water.

During Jose’s time aboard U.S.S. Holland, it wasn’t uncommon to see a few submarines docked alongside the ship, especially in the evenings.

“They were always there,” Jose explained. “There wasn’t a day we didn’t have one. One would come in and one would leave and some of them would come in smashed up like they ran into someone. One came in with a sail yanked; they came across an underwater cable. Another one had a front smashed in. There were speculations and rumors, but nobody would know for sure.”

Holy Loch, Scotland - Courtesy USS Holland AS-32 on FacebookMost of these accidents went unpublicized, even those that happened aboard the ship. According to Jose, there were many incidents, including a few fires and nuclear spills. There were no fatalities, but there was always the potential for a large tragedy, especially when dealing with missiles.

The Poseidon missiles weighed 64,000 pounds, had a range of 2,860 miles and a speed of 8,000 miles per hour; each one had the ability to carry 14 independently targetable warheads. The missiles were restocked on-board U.S.S. Holland by the supply ships when they docked alongside to replenish the stock of food and weapons approximately once a month. Jose explained why the crew enjoyed this experience.

“I mean, it was fun. When the ships came alongside, sometimes we’d hide stuff and we’d barter and trade with another department; we mostly traded food.”

Downtime was a privilege for the ship’s crew. When they finished their tasks for the day, they would hang out with their friends in various parts of the ship. “We called it ‘skate loafin,’ off at a friend’s shop until someone was looking for you.”  

While they were relaxing, the crew often participated in less than acceptable activities, during which they were forced to be cautious in order to avoid getting caught while "secretly making moonshine in the engine room," or “smoking hash like crazy” in the Aft Engine room. 

Crew - Courtesy of USS Holland AS-32 on FacebookDespite the fact that the crew enjoyed moments of laughter aboard the ship, moments of hardship did occur. Being confined to such tight ship quarters caused tempers to flare, which occasionally presented issues between crewmembers.
       
Jose explains, “Somebody dirtied their rack and the guy went and told the first class petty officer, chief. They wanted to know who did it and nobody said nothing. They grabbed the whole first class division and took us by the anchor cranes. They locked us in there. It was against the law. They weren’t going to let us out until someone said they did it. There was this guy, a total redneck, who would mock me, call me names like “Wetback,” and I would ignore him. My other Chicano friends asked why I didn’t stand up for myself. The guy was pretty big; I’m not stupid. They jumped him and broke his cheekbone, one of his ribs and his nose. They did it [when they were locked up] in there. I watched in horror. They opened the hatch and saw what happened and told them [everyone] not to say anything about it. They transferred him back to the states.”  

If the crew were on duty while the ship was in port, they would remain aboard the ship and spend the night in a bunk. However, at the end of many days a handful of crew members, including Jose, were given liberty, a chance to rest their ‘sea legs.’ In Jose’s case, he was able to return to his own apartment in Scotland.

Rota, Spain - Courtesy of www.ussholland.org

In 1977, Jose left the Navy, but U.S.S. Holland remained stationed in Scotland for a few years, where she received five consecutive Battle Efficiency “E” Awards, an award based on “overall readiness of the command to carry out its assigned wartime tasks and is based on a year-long evaluation.” In 1978, U.S.S. Holland was awarded a Battenberg Cup, honored as the only Submarine Tender, to date, to receive this award. She returned to Site Four in 1983, where she spent the next eight years performing retrofit repairs and services. She made history in 1989, when she performed the “first open-ocean mooring of a Ballistic Missile Submarine.”

In early 1992, U.S.S. Holland underwent a conversion overhaul, outfitting her for the necessities to support Fast Attack Submarines. Later that same year, in July, U.S.S. Holland assumed full duties in Guam. Unlike many years prior, her last four years in service were spent at sea. She was decommissioned on April 13, 1996 in Apra Harbor, Guam, after which, she was transported to Washington for two years, where she was stripped down and checked for contaminants. In May of 2000, she was sent to the National Defense Reserve Fleet in Suisun Bay, California.

*          *          *

When the hatch opened, I was overwhelmed by the stench of oil, steel and stale air -- an obvious sign that U.S.S. Holland had rarely been exposed to fresh air since her arrival at Suisun Bay nine years prior.

As we descended down a ladder, I reached up to turn on my headlamp, only to discover that we were immersed inside the mess, surrounded by plastic blue tables and yellow seats. Our flashlights blinded our eyes as the beams reflected off the metal cabinets covering the walls. Across the room, I noticed an old soda fountain, complete with drink labels that appeared to have been typed by a typewriter.

We continued our journey down the long, dark passageway, passing the Battle Dressing Station and the Post Office before we wound up in the Aft Machine Shop. During U.S.S. Holland’s operation, crews would work diligently inside this machine shop to fabricate broken or damaged parts for the submarines or the even U.S.S. Holland itself. 

My flashlight beam lit up various large pieces of machinery as I scoured the room for things to investigate. I continued to browse the dark corners of the machine shop, enamored by what I was discovering; a valve shop door covered with a painted cartoon of a dog, drawers that had been labeled by hand, symbols inlayed into the floor and desks full of papers and documents dating back to the early 1980’s.

"Valve Shop" - © Amy Heiden

I cautiously approached the equipment, careful not to slip on the oil-slick floor. With the exception of the oily floor and a thick layer of dust covering everything in sight, the shop was in impeccable condition, as was the machinery. In fact, I was told with a little grease, oil and the replacement of a few parts, most of these grinders, lathes and saws could run again.

"Corrosives" - © Amy Heiden

Towards the end of the day, after dismantling some machinery, our team leader, Tom, gave us a tour of the ship. We descended a few decks and stopped at an enormous hatch, adorned with the letters “WTD” (watertight door). We received a stern warning not to enter the space after the hatch was opened. After breaking the watertight seal, I was again overwhelmed by a new set of fumes, stronger and more pungent than before. Stale, rusty, dry air was billowing out of the open hatch as Tom grabbed his light and shone it fifty feet down, straight to the ship’s hull. We then understood Tom’s warning.

"Vertigo" - © Amy Heiden

There was no access to the hull from there, so we sealed the hatch and continued down a few more ladders until we were standing at the bottom of the giant alien landscape we had looked down into moments before.

It was evident this part of the ship was a modification, but at the time, we were unclear about its purpose. On the other hand, we were certain the strategically placed numbered squares covering the walls were evidence of the testing done before she was transferred to Suisun Bay.  

"Cubed" - © Amy Heiden

I later discovered, after my conversations with Jose Garcia, that this was modification was known as the ‘Nuclear Facilities’ and was completed in Bremerton, Washington between 1968-1969 after the ship left the shipyard in Charleston, South Carolina. This gaping space lies in between the two cargo cranes, spanning from the hull of the ship to the 02 level. The tender would collect the contaminated water from the submarines she was tendering and recycle it here in this large space. The metal configuration at the bottom of this space would have supported a deck, however, during the radiation testing process, it’s likely contamination was found, causing it to be removed.

Standing inside this vast metal jail, it was impossible not to feel small. The encompassing bulkhead was overwhelming as I glanced up towards the watertight door we had opened moments before. Once all conversations between the crew stopped, I heard water lapping against a surface. It wasn’t until that moment, that I realized I was actually standing on the hull of the ship. As I looked around in an attempt to discover other intriguing elements of the space, I noticed a small hole that had been cut in the bulkhead adjacent to this space. I crawled through it anxious of what I was about to discover.

"Metal Maze" - © Amy Heiden

I entered a similar space where steel had been removed. This particular find was intriguing because as I was standing there, I felt myself lean with the curve of the ship’s hull. Though I was unable to find any research in regards to why the steel had been cut out of a large portion of the hull in this section, it’s suggested that contaminants were found, which led to a requirement that the steel to be removed.

Once we emerged from the hull, we continued upward towards the main deck to find access down to the magazine. A few minutes later we found ourselves standing inside the Poseidon magazine storage.

"Magazine" - © Amy Heiden

U.S.S. Holland was outfitted with two different types of missiles, the Polaris and the Poseidon. In the 1960's, she received a modification removing the Polaris missile magazine, replacing it with a prefabricated, 250-ton Poseidon Magazine. She had sixteen main deck hatches allowing access to the magazine storage, which I had passed earlier in the day. One of the twin 30-ton cranes located above the hatches would pull the missiles from the magazine storage to the main deck for transfer to the submarines. U.S.S. Holland supported Poseidon missiles until she was decommissioned.

"Magazine Hatches" - © Amy Heiden

At 1545 we started our ascent. Once I saw the beam of light in the passageway, I knew we only had one more ladder before we hit the main deck. At 1600, we boarded the Headquarters boat once again. While the sun was setting, we took the ten-minute boat ride back to the pier. As I got in my car to drive home, I recalled how I once wondered what could be discovered if I had the opportunity to explore these ships. It was incomprehensible to imagine that I had just been there and the whole drive home my mind continued to swirl with memories from the visceral experience.

"Kansas City" - © Amy Heiden

In recent years, the ships of the Mothball Fleet have caused a fair amount of controversy. Environmentalists want the ships cleaned and hauled out of the bay in order to prevent more toxins from entering the waters. However, this is not a simple feat. It will cost millions of dollars to clean each ship of bay marine life and tow the ship to Texas for scrapping. For now, U.S.S. Holland and the other “ghost ships,” lie patiently awaiting their fate, but in the very near future, many of these ships may be leaving Suisun Bay. In the last few months, five ships have been removed from the fleet, a direct effect of the Government deeming the removal an environmental priority. It's only a matter of time before these ships are gone forever.

(For more photos of the Mothball Fleet, visit the gallery on my website or check out my Flickr set.)

Sources:

• Guttery, Randy & Sherry. “Tendertale USS Holland AS 32”
  <http://tendertale.com/> Dec 2009 - January 2010

• Garcia, Jose. “USS Holland AS-32 Association”
  <www.ussholland.org/>. Dec 2009.

• Wikipedia. “UGM-73 Poseidon”
  <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UGM-73_Poseidon>

• Garcia, Jose. Telephone Interview. 6 July 2009.