A number of key Sealab participants died years before I began my research, but family members kindly responded to my inquiries and contributed important details, and often documentation, to bolster the recollections of friends and shipmates. In that regard I am especially grateful to Mary Lou Cannon for speaking openly with me about a heartbreaking time. Lois Birkner Workman, married fifty-five years to Dr. Robert Workman when he died in 1998, filled me in on her husband’s life and times, as only a wife could, and offered insight into his mien. Sherry Anderson, the eldest of Lester “Andy” Anderson’s five daughters, and Rose Anderson, Lester’s wife of nearly fifty years when he died in 1999, were equally helpful, as were the two sons of Robert Sheats, Phil and Carl Sheats, and also Phil’s wife, Bonnie.
Captain George Bond died nearly twenty years before work on this book began. But in his stead I found gracious hosts in George Bond Jr. and his wife, Barbara, who had just built a new home in western North Carolina, not far from Bat Cave, and George Jr. introduced me to the hamlet that was so much a part of his father’s life. There, in October 2003, I was able to meet and interview some old-time friends and family members, including Ellen Moorehead, née Barrino, the late Dr. Bond’s sister-in-law, and Ellen’s daughter, Lynn, who lived for a time during her formative years with the Bond family. William A. Burch, a former Bat Cave postmaster, took the time to drive the bumpy back road to Bond’s old cabin retreat and share stories about his good friend Dr. Bond.
The Bonds insisted on putting me up in their new guest room while I spent several days sifting through a fantastic array of old files, papers, clippings, and photographs stored in their basement. Theirs was one of a number of private collections in which I found documentation I probably never would have found anywhere else, and which proved critical to pinning down numerous facts about Dr. Bond and about Sealab.
By the time I visited the Bonds I had learned that official records pertaining to Sealab were spotty at best. This I determined with the assistance of David Osborne, an intrepid Library of Congress researcher who took it upon himself to scour government collections for records related to the Sealab program. It became clear that instead of visiting neatly catalogued archives, I would have to rely more on happenstance and a kind of door-to-door research to get my hands on materials stowed away in places like the Bonds’ basement. But Osborne did succeed in retrieving hundreds of publicly available pages that would prove critical to documenting the tragedy of Sealab III and the subsequent investigation. His fruitful efforts were above and beyond the call, and I thank him.
Other librarians became essential allies, too, in my hunt for documentation. Bonnie Davis, at the Navy Experimental Diving Unit, promptly responded to my sporadic requests, usually for arcane, half-century-old Navy reports. Beth Kilmarx, who handles the Link Collections at Binghamton University of the State University of New York, made my days spent digging through the library holdings pleasant and productive. With the help of Anne Magill and Merrie Monteagudo, librarians and keepers of the San Diego Union-Tribune archives, I was able to rifle through a rough draft of history, mostly about Sealab II, that had been published in the rival newspapers of the time, the San Diego Union and the Evening Tribune. Douglas Hough at the Man in the Sea Museum in Panama City Beach answered some early questions. The Scripps Institution of Oceanography Library in La Jolla, California, and the Submarine Force Library and Museum in Groton, Connecticut, were both worthwhile destinations for obtaining additional background material. I was able to view the pertinent televised record at the wonderful Museum of Television and Radio, now the Paley Center for Media, at both the Beverly Hills and New York City locations.
Over the course of researching this book, I came to rely on the friendly staff of Pelletier Library at Allegheny College, notably Cynthia Burton and Linda Ernst, whose seemingly magical search powers made even the most obscure old diving books and articles appear. Others at the liberal arts college in Meadville, Pennsylvania—where I filled in as a journalism instructor for a couple of years—would share their knowledge with me, including Professor Glenn Holland, in the Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies, who took the time to help me better appreciate George Bond’s biblical references. Lee Coates, associate professor of neuroscience and biology, offered guidance as I got up to speed on physiology and the mechanics of respiration. The expertise I seemed to need most often came from computing services guru Phil Reinhart, who talked me through more than a few technical difficulties. When it came time to digitize the old photographs I had collected for publication, I got first-class lessons from Dennis O’Laughlin, a gifted and indefatigable teacher of commercial art at the Crawford County Career and Technical Center in Meadville.
With respect to the technical, physiological, and even historical side of diving, I found a marvelous teacher in Peter Bennett, whose roots in the world of diving truly run deep. He is professor emeritus of anesthesiology, a longtime director of the F. G. Hall Hyperbaric Center at Duke University Medical Center, founder and first president of the Divers Alert Network, author of innumerable scientific papers, and coeditor with fellow researcher David Elliott of The Physiology and Medicine of Diving, a definitive textbook since Bennett and Elliott edited the first edition in 1969. Dr. Bennett cheerfully gave me more than a few outstanding crash courses, and his wealth and breadth of experience, including his familiarity with many key figures in the field of diving research, made him an exceptionally valuable resource. He was also among those who reviewed drafts of my manuscript to weed out mistakes and factually dubious material.
Where diving history was concerned, or almost any question about diving, I could count on Leslie Leaney to point me in the right direction. It was Leaney, after all, who first told me I should enlist the assistance of Bob Barth if I wanted to write anything meaningful about Sealab. Leaney’s long-standing interest in diving led him to become a cofounder of the Historical Diving Society, and then founder of Historical Diver magazine, a highly informative publication recently renamed The Journal of Diving History, which Leaney has served as publisher, editor, writer, and enthusiastic researcher. Leslie’s wife, Jill, is herself a great resource, as are other knowledgeable HDS members who came to my aid, like Kent “Rocky” Rockwell. Leslie Leaney was also among those who read and commented on my manuscript. Others from whom I sought comments were Bob Barth, Walt Mazzone, Richard Blackburn, and Robert Bornmann, whose names will be familiar from the Sealab story and from these acknowledgments. A couple of other important manuscript reviewers merit some introduction, although both are well known among their Sealab peers. Don Risk, a former Navy diver who later worked in the offshore oil industry, was involved throughout the program and personally knew many of the participants. James Vorosmarti, in addition to having been a designated medical officer during Sealab III, is an avid researcher of diving history. All of these readers’ comments were invaluable in achieving the greatest possible degree of fairness and accuracy. Any remaining deficiencies in the text are nobody’s fault but mine.
Much has been written about the legendary Jacques-Yves Cousteau, much of it written or edited by Cousteau himself. To get some further perspective on the documentary record, both written and cinematic, I set off for France in late 2004 to meet with some key members of the Cousteau team, men who began working with JYC early on, even before the Calypso first set sail in the early 1950s, and who were with him for years to come. Jean Alinat, a former French naval officer, diver, and longtime leader on the Cousteau team, could not have been more kind and candid when interviewed at his home in Nice, from where he commuted for years to nearby Monaco and his office at the Oceanographic Museum. When my French faltered, he summoned his latent English. I had much the same experience with another Cousteau associate, André Laban, with whom I was able to meet several times during the thirty-first annual Underwater Film Festival in the little seaside city of Juan-les-Pins, west of Nice. Laban, a gentle and creative soul whose clean-shaven head has long been a trademark, is, like so many o
thers I met, a story in himself. Like the Sealab reunions, the film festival gave me an opportunity to meet and compare notes with a cross section of divers from all over, including Jean-Michel Cousteau, whom I had previously interviewed by phone about his father’s work.
In Marseille, at the world headquarters of Comex, I got a warm welcome from Henri Delauze and an educational introduction to the company’s Hyperbaric Centre from scientists Bernard Gardette and Claude Gortan. Nicolas Boichot, then Delauze’s chief assistant and a specialist in underwater archaeology, took care of business in the most efficient way. Delauze himself, an active septuagenarian who exuded a palpable joie de vivre, took time from a busy schedule for several interviews, responded to follow-up questions by e-mail, and provided important documentary materials. Through Delauze I was able to meet Claude Wesly, also of Marseille. A former oceanaut on Conshelf One and Two, Wesly later worked with Delauze and Comex. He shared mementos and memories from his years working with his good friend and mentor, Captain Cousteau, and offered personal insights into Cousteau and Delauze, having known and admired both men. Thanks, too, to former Cousteau associate Dominique Sumian, for helping me make my initial French connections.
The journalists with whom I’ve worked over the years, many of them still friends, and most still working as journalists, have been my teachers, mentors, and continuing sources of inspiration. There are too many former colleagues to mention, but they know who they are, especially those with whom I worked at the Santa Barbara News-Press, where I was a staff writer for most of the 1990s, when the paper was still owned by the New York Times Co. It was a job, and a place, that afforded greater opportunities than I could have imagined. It was in Santa Barbara, too, that the seed of the idea for this book was planted. I owe thanks to a number of editors, including Allen Parsons and Melinda Johnson, whose years at the paper overlapped with most of mine, and whose enthusiasm for my reporting and writing helped put me on the road to tackling a book-length work of nonfiction. Special thanks, too, to R. B. Brenner, whose time as an editor at the paper in the mid-1990s was relatively brief, but long enough for him to become a friend and a great influence on me and my development as a journalist. Jeff Gordinier, yet another News-Press alum, has remained a friend and journalistic Yoda ever since our paths crossed in the paper’s lifestyle section in the early 1990s. Melissa Grace became a colleague all over again by volunteering to spend some of her rare off-hours at the New York Public Library to aid in my frantic search for a ridiculously elusive article.
Scott Waxman, my agent, immediately embraced my idea for a book about Sealab, took me under his capable wing, and showed me how to make my book proposal fly. Fly it did, into the experienced hands of my editor at Simon & Schuster, Bob Bender, a true veteran of the publishing business, responsible for an extraordinary body of nonfiction work. I was thrilled that someone of his stature saw promise in the Sealab story, and I was grateful that he and the good people at Simon & Schuster, including Bob’s assistant, Johanna Li, were willing to take a chance on a first-time author.
Friends and family, of course, make all things possible, and a complete who’s who would be impossible. Lucky me. But it took a village to get this book written and a highly abridged list of the villagers must include Rick, Carol, David, and Ellie Holmgren, who often provided a second home to my daughter, among other friendly deeds. My son has had a second home in his public school music programs thanks to an energetic cast of teachers, namely Jill Manning, Irene Kipp, Sandra Corbett, Mary Peters, Duane Banks, and Scott Cresley. Many thanks to villagers Dan Crozier, Roberta Levine, and their kids, Lucy and David, for all the gourmet meals and generous helpings of laughter. Roberta, a wise wordsmith and straight shooter, also read my manuscript and gave me the benefit of her keen literary eye.
And where would I be without my mother, Abby Hellwarth, queen of the village, who’s always been an incomparable bastion of love and moral support. My father, Robert Hellwarth, along with my stepmother, Theresia DeVroom, and half-brother, Will, make a formidable cheering section, and I have long relied on my sister, Margaret, and my brother, Tom, for the best in sibling wisdom—which only improved when my sister-in-law, Fiona, joined the family. To Steve and Beverley Dorfman, in-laws extraordinaire, consummate supporters of my family, and voracious readers of nonfiction to boot—including drafts of my manuscript—I say a heartfelt thank you.
To my wife, Jennifer, I owe thanks that run deeper than any dive chronicled in this book. She, more than anyone, has had to endure the prolonged and unpredictable adventure that writing this book became, all while pursuing her own career as a teacher and scholar, and all while we both rode the roller coaster of parenthood. Our amazing kids, Sutter and Camryn, who were in elementary school when this project began, are both easily old enough now to read this book. In between the many lines, I hope they can begin to understand why their dad spent all those hours holed up in his basement office. But they should remember, too, that my greatest fringe benefit was working from home, where I could readily watch (and hear!) the two of them grow up. We’ve been able to share many moments, mundane and magnificent, and that’s been a priceless story in itself.
NOTES
All personal interviews were conducted by the author. Tape-recorded interviews are so noted, as is the location of an interview, when held face-to-face rather than by telephone. For virtually every interview the author has extensive notes, whether they were transcribed from tapes, taken during the interview, or written up shortly afterward. After a first full citation, interviews are cited by the subject’s last name and the date of the interview only; in a few instances a first name or initial is needed to distinguish people with the same last name. When information was available from a documentary source, such as a book, magazine, journal, or an official document, that source is often the one cited, even if the same information was obtained through interviews. This was done to direct the interested reader or researcher to the most readily accessible source. Written records, when available, and occasionally audio or visual records, provided valuable corroboration for information obtained from interviews, and often included additional details—and vice versa, making memory a two-way street. But interviews formed the bedrock of this story, whether specifically cited or not. In this regard, the author was fortunate to have been able to attend four reunions of Sealab personnel and others close to the program as part of the research for this book. Two of those reunions were held in San Diego, Calif., March 14–17, 2002, and May 9–11, 2004. Another two were held in Panama City, Fla., March 6–9, 2003, and March 10–12, 2005. Several dozen people typically attended each gathering, thereby making many interviews possible, both on the spot and, in many cases, later, in more formal, one-on-one interviews. Equally important was the opportunity to listen to old friends and shipmates talk and reminisce.
CHAPTER 1: A DEEP ESCAPE
Page
1 submarine Archerfish prepared to release: Cmdr. George F. Bond as told to Max Gunther, “We Conquered the Deep 300,” True The Man’s Magazine, November 1960, p. 48; Cyril Tuckfield, telephone interview, Aug. 21, 2002, and in Preston, Conn., Sept. 11, 2002.
1 George Bond was forty-three: Based on numerous interviews with family, including Bond’s older son, George Bond Jr., close friends, and associates; Bond’s edited journals, published as Papa Topside: The Sealab Chronicles of Capt. George F. Bond, USN, Helen A. Siiteri, ed. (Annapolis, Md.: Naval Institute Press, 1993); unpublished letters and journals; U.S. Navy personnel files, photographs, audio and video recordings. These sources and others are cited below as they pertain to specific information in the text.
1 resonant baritone: Cmdr. George F. Bond of the Naval Medical Research Laboratory, New London, Conn., tape recording, keynote speech at the Alpha Omega Alpha initiation ceremonies, Huyck Auditorium, Albany Medical College, Albany, N.Y., April 23, 1959 (in author’s possession).
2 primitive at best: Carl LaVO, Back from the Deep: The Strange Story of the Sister Subs Squalus and Sculpin (Ann
apolis, Md.: Naval Institute Press, 1994), p. 31.
2 three submarines sank: A. J. Hill, Under Pressure: The Final Voyage of the Submarine S-Five (New York: Free Press, 2002), pp. 61, 206.
2 escape trunks: Sir Robert H. Davis, Deep Diving and Submarine Operations: A Manual for Deep Sea Divers and Compressed Air Workers, 9th ed. (Cwmbran, Gwent: Siebe, Gorman, 1995), pp. 257, 650; Tuckfield, interviews, Aug. 21, 2002, and Sept. 11, 2002; Submarine Escape, Navy-produced training film (video copy in author’s possession).
2 McCann Rescue Chamber: Davis, Deep Diving and Submarine Operations, pp. 655, 670; Peter Maas, The Terrible Hours: The Man Behind the Greatest Submarine Rescue in History (New York: HarperCollins, 1999), p. 63.
2 Several methods evolved to enable: George F. Bond, Robert D. Workman, and Walter F. Mazzone, “Deep Submarine Escape,” U.S. Naval Medical Research Laboratory Report, no. 346, Dec. 30, 1960, p. 1.
2 Boyle’s law: U.S. Navy Diving Manual, Part I, Department of the Navy, July 1963, p. 18.
2 The gravest danger: U.S. Navy Diving Manual, Part III, p. 11; Bond, recorded keynote speech at Albany Medical College.
3 escape training tank: Cultural Resource Group, Louis Berger & Associates, “Historic Structure Documentation for Submarine Escape Training Tank, Naval Submarine Base, New London, Groton, Connecticut,” prepared for Northern Division Naval Facilities Engineering Command, Philadelphia, Pa., March 1988 (held in the collection of the U.S. Navy Submarine Force Library and Museum, Groton, Conn.); Submarine Escape.
3 Esther Williams: Tuckfield, interviews.
3 rite of passage: Cultural Resource Group, “Historic Structure Documentation for Submarine Escape Training Tank,” p. 1.
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