Tom Kocan, Richie Cunningham, Bill Doherty and Bob Leonti

Wow, is the only word that comes to mind when describing this past weekend. Traveling south, all sorts of thoughts were coursing through my mind. Chief amongst them was that I was surrendering my boat, my baby, my eight-year fight to save her, to another group of people who seemed nice enough through email, but I really did not know them.

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 judgement until I met these guys and looked in their eyes. I'm told certain Indian tribes say that the eyes are the wells to the soul. I went on board and met Harry Jaeger and Tom Robinson, looked in 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. As I was ruminating about what the day would bring, I looked up and saw Richie Cunningham walking toward me with Bob Leonti and Tom Kocan, all from my old crew [see above photo]. Richie threw his arms around me, gave me a hug and that did it. We were all 19 again. Thirty-five years instantly evaporated. Memories flooded back through the years as if they happened yesterday.

Everywhere we went we stopped and reminisced about old SAR cases. 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. We formed this human chain to bring the food on board; everyone trying to stash a bit of their favorite food as it was bumped along from person to person. We talked about some of the Tam's characters like Mad Dog Jones, our 3rd Class Cook, who could sing the Motown sound as well as any of the artists.

Reality checks were constant this past weekend. We still had a job to do despite the tendency to reminisce and daydream. 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 punch listed all of her blemishes, leaking pipes, rust and corrosion.

Every time I was feeling tired or sore, I just kept repeating to my self, "I'm nineteen again, I'm nineteen again. …. Then I looked at our next obstacle. We were to punch list 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.

Nineteen years old! What an important year of my life! I was entrusted with the responsibility of manning the helm, steering this ancient behemoth of a tug through all kinds of weather, fair and foul. I was a member of Repair Party 2 and the gun crew as well, at a later date. Taken together these things equated to a heightened sense of responsibility, teamwork and camaraderie that I had never experienced before. Stepping on her decks with my former crew mates was a time machine in itself. I didn't need H.G. Wells to help me out in the least.

Almost everything that happened brought back memories of those days. Especially as we drew near the engine room. The MK's and Electricians Mates were attempting to bring her back to life. We heard the mains light up, 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 nine year sleep. Every time the MK's started up an engine, I paused for a moment and just listened. What a feeling!

Let me say that again, What a feeling! Relief swept over me because we had fought a fight for 8 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 when she lay by the Intrepid. 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 saviour, there were several folks who fought like hell to care for her, and make plans to use her, keeping her in the limelight for a 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.

As these events began to unfold, 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 work party together and pump out her bilge's 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 web site.

We tried to raise the funds to purchase her, but in the end Lloyd Stewart won the bid. We decided it would be a good idea, regardless of how disappointed we were to stay in contact with Lloyd offering our help. Well folks it paid off. Lloyd invited a couple of interested parties to Baltimore to meet a gentleman interested in purchasing the Tam. We veteran's 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 Richmond, not too many months hence.

Let's not forget though, the crew of the fireboat John, J. Harvey who freely gave their time and effort to caring for the Tam however possible in New York as well as Municipal Art Society of New York. Without these folk's 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 Harvey were here this past weekend as volunteers. They still can't let her go!