by Robin Hutton
I have written my Sunday November Seventh column about Reckless as part of my annual observance of the Marine Corps Anniversary. I’d like very much to have Reckless appear on our stage November Seventh as General Devereaux will be in our audience that night. How much would it cost to send her east? In addition to transportation I will earmark an extra one thousand dollars for your fund for Marine families. Wire me.
Sincerely Ed Sullivan5
As details were being worked out for her appearance on Toast of the Town, Captain Shannon, master of the SS Pacific Transport, radioed the ship was caught in a typhoon. He determined the storm would delay their arrival until the evening of November 9, two days after the Sullivan broadcast, so she would not be making her television debut after all.
Feeling Low on the High Seas
For Reckless, the voyage across the Pacific must have brought back memories of the failed amphibious landing. Despite traveling topside for the fresh air, the high seas made her seasick and unable to eat; and she was nearly swept overboard. One of the huge waves washing across the bow knocked Reckless completely down, out of her stall, and almost into the raging ocean. By the time the crew scrambled to reach her, Reckless was sprawled across the deck, her front legs braced against the edge of the ship. The mates managed to steady the thoroughly drenched, frightened horse upright and back into her stall. Bales of hay were stacked around her to prevent any further near-disasters.
San Francisco, Open Your Golden Gate
In California, excitement mounted as preparations were made for the grand arrival. California’s interim governor, Goodwin J. Knight, issued a ceremonial proclamation welcoming her to the state. (The proclamation came on the same day Knight won a full term as California’s chief executive; he had been appointed to the office a year earlier after Governor Earl Warren resigned to become chief justice of the United States Supreme Court.)
Executive Department State of California
November 2, 1954
Californians are proud to join with our United States Marines in welcoming Sergeant Reckless home from Korea.
Fighting with our men of the First Division this greathearted little mare became the symbol of their spirit. During the bitter days, while carrying ammunition to the Reckless Rifles of the First, she was twice wounded. Yet, despite her bloodied flanks, she continued to plod the Korean hills. Such courage understandably won the respect of the men who know courage best. Therefore, I am proud California has been chosen as home for this heroic animal.
I know the years ahead will hold affection for her by those who fought beside her. But more important, as time goes on, this little mare with the blaze will mingle with Marines-yet-to-be and, in her inimitable way, instill in them the spirit of Semper Fidelis; life’s breath to the Eternal Corps.
Goodwin J. Knight
Governor of California6
Old Friends Gather and Reminisce
Eric Pedersen and Elmer Lively pulled into San Francisco with a trailer full of alfalfa, grain, and blankets; Kay Pedersen would fly in the following morning to join her husband and finally meet the “other woman” in his life. Monroe Coleman already had arrived from Utah with his bride. Joe Latham tried every trick in the Marine book in increasingly desperate attempts to get there—and failed. Latham was heartbroken, as were many others who knew how close he and Reckless had become.
On the night of November 8, 1954, the eve of her arrival, the wartime comrades and their families gathered at Colonel Geer’s home in San Francisco for drinks, to reminisce, and to arrange final touches for the reception. Out at sea, Reckless was inadvertently making extra last-minute work for them.
The Geer cocktail party was cut short by a call from Captain Shannon. The good news: Reckless’s appetite was back after her days of seasickness and almost being washed overboard. The bad news: Sergeant Reckless had devoured not only her beautiful parade blanket, but also all her chevrons and ribbons; only a few scraps remained.
Otherwise, she was just fine, thank you very much.
The men couldn’t believe it.
Again, Geer took charge. Reckless’s ship was set to arrive the following night, with a dockside press conference the next morning at 0900. He knew how important her appearance would be, especially with all those photographers on the dock, cameras poised. Geer and the gang needed a blanket, lettering, sergeant chevrons, and ribbons for her. And they needed them fast.
Before Pedersen could pick up Kay at the airport, Geer assigned him to swing by Olsen Nolte, a landmark saddlery in San Francisco, for a new, replacement blanket.
Coleman’s orders: find someone to sew on the lettering.
Lively would track down a pair of sergeant’s chevrons. And Geer would handle the ribbons.7
November 9, 1954—the Frantic Rush to Get Things Right
Creed Haberlin of Olsen Nolte Saddle Shop produced a blanket correct in both color and size and donated a fine leather halter, hoof pick, currycomb, and brush. When Pedersen took out his wallet, Haberlin refused to take the lieutenant’s money. “It’s a present,” he told the former platoon leader. “If I went home tonight and told my kids I’d charged you for anything for Reckless, they’d chase me out of the house.”8
Something similar happened at Emerson Manufacturing Company, where the manager, Arthur McLorg, stopped cold all routine production of flags and banners and immediately put all hands to work on cutting and blocking the letters for Reckless’s blanket. It read: “Sgt. Reckless: 1st MAR. DIV.”
B. Pasquale & Company, the historic military outfitters founded in San Francisco in 1854, created two bars of ribbons in record time—each measuring eighteen inches long by an inch-and-a-half wide.
With all the elements—blanket, lettering, ribbons, and chevrons—collected, Kay Pedersen managed to finish sewing the chevrons and ribbons onto the blanket just as the call came in that the ship was about to dock.
The twelve-day voyage home was over. Reckless had arrived.
That night, Pedersen, Coleman, and Lively met Reckless aboard the ship. Eighteen months had passed since Reckless and Eric Pedersen had said their goodbyes half a world away. But when she spotted him, on the hatch and at night, and he returned the gaze, it was evident neither time nor distance had loosened their special bond.
Reckless strained against the stall cross bar, trying to reach out to him as Pedersen, along with Coleman and Lively, excitedly welcomed her. When the trio reached her, the little war horse buried her face in Pedersen’s hands. She was safe. She had to spend one last night on board, but maybe on some level she understood she had arrived at a new home with her old friends.
November 10, 1954—Off to Meet Her Public
At dawn, Reckless’s friends were back aboard, readying her for the media. With a thorough brushing and rubdown, her coat gleamed. Reckless’s hooves were cleaned and polished, and that trademark blaze and three white stockings brightened by a refreshing shampoo. Naturally, Reckless loved the attention, and when they were done, she looked absolutely beautiful.
Lieutenant Arthur Newell, a veterinarian with the 6th Army stationed at the Presidio, arrived early with the bottles and needles necessary for her blood tests. But he had to wait for Inspector Eddy of the Department of Agriculture before he could go to work.
When Eddy and a second inspector showed up, Newell expressed concern that Reckless could hurt herself if she reared when he stuck her with the needle. “Go ahead,” Pedersen deadpanned, “she won’t even nod.”9
So Newell took off his barracks cap, placed it on a fender, and gave Reckless several sharp taps on the neck to numb it. Reckless didn’t flinch; she was too busy finishing off a carrot.
He inserted the needle, and blood filled the vial. Reckless noticed the barracks cap, reached over, and snatched it between her teeth. But thanks to Lively’s quick hands, it was only slightly mangled.
Ready for My Close-Up, Mr. DeMille
The time had come for Reckless to meet the press. The ship was so jammed with reporters an
d photographers that one veteran newsman observed wryly, “She has more cameras and reporters to meet her than Vice President Nixon had a week ago when he came to town.”10
The San Francisco Examiner reported, “Not since the days when troopships were coming back from the Korean War had the waterfront seen such a welcome as that given the fighting veteran at Pier 7 yesterday.”11
Reckless was in her glory. For more than an hour, she “posed with various Marines, she ate carrots, she walked into and out of her stall a dozen times while flash bulbs popped and cameramen shouted for different poses.
Reckless’s very first press conference. Leatherneck Magazine
Pedersen secures Reckless into her stall for the trip ashore. Command Museum, Marine Corps Recruit Depot, San Diego
Reckless and Pedersen are lowered down to the San Francisco dock. Camp Pendleton Archives
Pedersen leads Reckless out onto American soil. Command Museum, Marine Corps Recruit Depot, San Diego
“Then she became bored and let Pedersen know it.”12
It was time to go.
The lieutenant led Reckless into an unloading stall, and the two were winched over the ship’s side and lowered to the dock.
Pedersen opened the stall gate and led her onto American soil—and into a whole new life. Sergeant Reckless had arrived in a style and fanfare befitting a great heroine.
Newspaper headlines across the country reflected the triumphant atmosphere at the docks that day. “Heroine’s Welcome Given as Mare Marine Arrives” trumpeted Southern California’s Long Beach Press Telegram.
In Massachusetts, the Springfield Union proclaimed, “Horse Marine Has Landed: Sgt Reckless, Little Sorrel Mare, Reaches West Coast; Real Heroine of Korean War.”
The local Oakland Tribune seemed to get the story slightly backward: “Heroic ‘Sgt Reckless’ is Greeted in Korean Return.”
Splashed across the nationwide newspaper coverage were pictures of Reckless being petted by a “beaming” Andy Geer, Eric Pedersen, Monroe Coleman, and Elmer Lively.
Pedersen was widely quoted on how he came to acquire her and about the last-minute scramble to replace the blanket and ribbons she’d munched on during the ocean voyage. The governor’s welcoming proclamation was read for the press, followed by an electric morning of interviews, photos, and celebration.
Pedersen and Geer dress Reckless in her replacement blanket. Nancy Latham Parkin
On dock, Maj. Gen. Evans O. Ames presents Reckless with a new set of ribbons. Nancy Latham Parkin
In a bit of serendipity, Reckless touched “hoof” in the United States the same day President Dwight Eisenhower was dedicating the Iwo Jima Memorial—for which Reckless helped raise donations—in Washington, D.C. The San Diego Union ran a photo from the ceremony of Vice President Richard Nixon standing with the mothers of two of the Marines who had lost their lives after hoisting the flag on Iwo Jima. It appeared right next to the coverage of Sergeant Reckless’s arrival.
An Immaculate Reception
From the docks, Reckless and her entourage headed straight to an afternoon reception in her honor at the Marines’ Memorial Club arranged by Major General Evans O. Ames.
The Marines’ Memorial Club and Hotel, a landmark in San Francisco’s Union Square since 1946, was created as the nation’s first “Living Memorial.” The entire building pays tribute to “those who have gone before; and to provide a service to those who carry on.” Each floor has a different theme, and walls are adorned with historical and heart-tugging memorabilia, “to honor the memory and commemorate the valor of the members of our armed forces who were killed, lost or died in military service for their country.”13
The November 1954 Anniversary Issue of Crossroads of the Corps, the Marines’ Memorial Association magazine, devoted its cover to Technical Sergeant Joe Latham and Reckless, “the winsome equine lass that had her coming out party on the rugged terrain of Korea and who makes her formal stateside debut at the Marines’ Club.” The feature story previewed how Reckless “will make an unprecedented appearance as the honored guest . . . and be given due recognition”14 at her stateside “coming out” party—the annual Marine Corps Birthday Dinner and Dance, celebrating both the Corps’ 179th anniversary and the eighth birthday of the Marines’ Club. Reservations for the event reportedly were “in extremely heavy demand,” as it promised to include a memorable salute to America’s most unlikely war heroine.
The press went wild when Reckless, clip-clopping onto the club’s historic theater stage, was greeted by at least fifty cheering Marines. (It is not clear whether Reckless took the freight elevator to the second floor or waltzed through the lobby and up the stairs to the auditorium.) When calm returned, she was toasted again and again—with Coca-Cola.
Poor Reckless. She was a decorated war heroine and belle of the ball, yet she had to consider her pristine public image. So when a photographer suggested that, in print, the caramel-colored soft drink could be mistaken for alcohol, Reckless obliged and also drank a glass of milk.
When the reception was over, the stage lights were dimmed and Reckless had time to rest, since there was still a big night ahead. So as she had done often in her friends’ tents, Reckless quietly lay down and went to sleep.
You Can Have Your Cake and Eat It Too
After the brief respite, it was time to get the party started. Some skeptics in the crowd doubted a horse would ever willingly board an elevator. But they didn’t know Reckless, who strode into the freight elevator, adjusted her stance to fit more comfortably, then rode confidently to the tenth floor’s banquet dinner in the main dining room.
Who needs cake when there are carnations? Reckless eats the centerpieces. USMC History Division, Quantico, VA
Escorted off the elevator by Pedersen and Lively, the little mare strode into the banquet hall of four hundred Marines and their dates to thunderous applause as, “flash bulbs popped like mortar shells along the Main Line of Resistance.”15 Keynote speaker Andy Geer regaled his audience with “the story of Reckless’ transition from a racing pony to a traditional Marine Corps hero.”16
While being introduced to the crowd, Reckless “spied a two-foot-high anniversary cake and before Pedersen or Lively could restrain her, she was up to her nostrils in it. She sighed gustily. This was the best food she had since the peanut butter sandwiches in Korea. When the cake was gone, Mrs. Veda Ames, wife of Major General Evans O. Ames, USMC, leaned far over the table and served Reckless ice cream from her hand.”17
But for the famished filly, these were mere appetizers. During the speeches, Reckless started in on the rose and carnation centerpieces. By the time the last speaker was finished, so were the flowers.
When the General Deferred to the Sergeant
Around 10:00 p.m., Reckless made her second appearance of the evening. Again she ambled onto the elevator and was whisked to the eleventh floor’s Crystal Ballroom for the birthday dance and official cake-cutting ceremony. (Someone had had the foresight to order more than one cake.)
The traditional cake-cutting ceremony symbolizes the annual renewal by every Marine of commitment to the Corps and its pledge to seek peace and freedom worldwide. The Mameluke sword used in the ceremony, according to the Corps’ official website, “gets its name from the cross hilt and ivory grip design, similar to swords used for centuries by Ottoman warriors.” The Marine Corps’ ceremonial use of the Mameluke sword can be traced back to 1805 and Marine Lieutenant Presley O’Bannon’s leadership in successfully retaking Derna, Tripoli. Marine lore claims Tripoli prince Hamet Karamanli showed his gratitude by presenting his own Mameluke sword to O’Bannon.18 The historic battle is celebrated in “The Marines’ Hymn” with the line “to the shores of Tripoli.” A version of the Mameluke sword remains part of the Marine dress uniform.
Camp Pendleton Archives; Bottom: Corbis
Kay Pedersen feeds Reckless the first piece of birthday cake as guest of honor.
Traditionally, the first slice of cake is presented to the g
uest of honor; the second goes to the oldest Marine in the room, signifying “the honor and respect accorded to experience and seniority.”19 This Marine then passes that second slice to the youngest Marine present, a gesture representing the hand-off of Corps’ history and traditions from one generation to the next.
Major General Henry D. Linscott did the honors of cutting the first piece. But it was Reckless who received the symbolic slice, heartily slurping it up from the outstretched hand of Kay Pedersen.
The moment was captured for posterity in the December 1954 Crossroads of the Corps beneath the headline, “‘Reckless’ Hit of Birthday Celebration.”20
November 11, 1954—Last Hurrahs
The next day, Reckless took her victory tour to the San Francisco Cow Palace. “She put on one of her greatest performances . . . the rocking horse strut, the whirling run, the charge at Pedersen as though to run him down, the stiff-legged bucking action.”21
Later that day, Colonel Geer took her to the exclusive, men-only Bohemian Club, where the sergeant had the distinction of being the first female ever to enter the Cartoon Room. “That sort of thing wasn’t done,” noted Geer’s nephew, James Taggart, “but Andy Geer was such a rollicking huge guy, he could do whatever he wanted.”22
Mingling freely through the crowded room of all-male members, Reckless shared drinks and hammed it up for photographers. When the bartender presented Reckless her first drink, Kay Pedersen noted the barkeep’s wry observation: “That’s the first time I’ve ever served a drink to a four-legged lady.”23
It was her last hurrah—the moment had come for final goodbyes to friends, old and new. Pedersen loaded her into the trailer and, with Lively in the passenger seat, started the long drive to Camp Pendleton.
It was time to go home.