The story below comes from a guy I worked with at CTG in Alaska, Mike Shea. I am including it here because it is really a good story about the USS San Diego Memorial and how it is related to him – enjoy!
“if you wanted to get a picture of the USS Midway in its full Glory, you would stand on the dock with the Memorial to the San Diego right behind you. My father was the person who pushed the USS San Diego Memorial project through to completion.
He was the Secretary for the USS San Diego Memorial Association (I built their membership database, by the way, in MS Access). As the youngest person on the Memorial Association “Committee” (he was 84 when the Memorial was completed and unveiled), and a Harvard Business School Graduate and former US Navy Captain, he ran the show behind the scenes (well – he raised the funds by putting out a monthly news letter to Association Members and other newsletter membership readers … which I also helped with. He pretty well designed the memorial with the Artists, got the City’s buy in on the location for the memorial site, filled out all the mountains of paperwork required, obtained required “official” signatures, paid the Association Bills, oversaw the Memorial construction, and finally, planned the memorial unveiling, and the big wing-ding of a reunion party afterwards. I actually think that’s why he did the entire thing – for the big wing-ding reunion party - as he got to meet his fellow USS San Diego Comrades one last time; my Father passed on to his next big Project later that same year.
The USS San Diego was the 2nd most decorated US Navy Ship in WWII (The Aircraft Carrier USS Enterprise having 19 battle stars, the USS San Diego had 18).
The day of the Memorial Unveiling, my Father was finally going to get to see everything in place for the very first time; others on the committee had seen it earlier that morning and stated it was great, but something had always seemed to pop up over the past couple of days – keeping dad from getting by the memorial to see its final touches being put in place – though he had seen pictures from several of the committee members of different parts of it he wanted to check on – everything except the statue.
The Statue of a Sailor he had ordered for the center piece of the memorial – to represent all the sailors and officers of the ship - with the pink granite walls in the back of the memorial shaped like a ship’s bow cutting through the waves – hadn’t been finished until the day before [supposedly], and had just been installed the night before, and though he’d seen it during different stages, he’d never seen the final product close up and complete.
Months before, the artists had asked him if he wanted to pose for the statue – my Father had told them then he didn’t want anything to do with “posing” for the statue; he just needed it to look like a life size, battle weary sailor of WWII. His Rhode Island - Roman Catholic “modesty” just wouldn’t conceive of his likeness being used for a statue representing all the sailors of that ship; I can envision him raising his hands in front of his face and turning away from them, and saying “No thank you” when asked by the artists if he wanted to pose.
However, the Memorial Sailor - standing in the middle / back wall of the memorial, life size and made of bronze – was, unbeknownst to my Father, posed for … by him.
You see, my Mother – being the sly she-devil she was when she had the opportunity - had passed on to the artists a WWII picture of my Father, as the artists had called the house around the same time they had talked with my Father about posing – and were still looking for a likeness to use. And on that particular phone call, they had got a hold of my Mother – not my Father.
The day arrived, and everybody that was somebody in San Diego was there for the unveiling of the memorial at a big wing-ding of a ceremony (the big wing-ding of a party being later in the evening); the Mayor was there, along with (as I recall) a bunch of US Navy Brass, a former Governor, several of San Diego’s extremely wealthy types, a bunch of the original ship’s crew and family who were still able to make the ceremony … and a particular State Senator that went to Jail a short time later for embezzling money (Sen. Charles “Duke” Cunningham – the first US Navy Aviator “Ace” of the Vietnam War). Finally, my father stepped up to the podium to give a short introduction speech – the podium being just a short distance from the now unveiled statue - and Dad saw the statue for the first time in its full, finished glory.
People in the audience kept looking at the statue, and then my Father, and then the Statue, and then my Father.
My Dad stumbled through his Memorial Presentation Speech – the first speech I ever heard him stumble through (they were normally very clear, direct and to the point), and then after stepping off the podium, started staring at the statue while others gave their short speeches at the podium. For a while, I thought he was going to collapse, or have a stroke or something. All the while, my mother had a smile on her face from ear to ear; I don’t think I ever saw her smile that much in one day … ever.
When I finally looked at what Dad was staring at - there was “Dad” in Bronze staring back – posed as a battle weary sailor – clad in a seaman’s Battle Stations outfit of WWII, helmet in hand (my father being a former Navy Officer would have been dressed just a bit different) – but that was definitely the face of a much younger Ensign LE Shea.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone turn white, then red, then paint a smile across their red face while they shook hands for the rest of the day. The Memorial artists, who were at the Ceremony, told him where they got the likeness from a short time later - just as soon as my Father could break free from the forth coming congratulations and get over to artists who were standing at the edge of the memorial celebration’s crowd obviously very pleased with themselves. And once he figured out how it had happened, and that there wasn’t a thing he could do about it (I mean, it was his wife who passed the artist’s the photo to use – and they had obviously got it dead on right), he must have said “I had no idea” a thousand times that day when many, many celebrants asked if he knew before hand that the Statue was going to look so much like him.
And by the way – I, too, almost dropped my “drink” when I finally got to see the Statue up close … as I look a lot like my father did … and while I was standing in front of it with my mouth wide open, I could hear my mother quietly mentioning to my embarrassed father (who was behind me at the time) … “Calm down - It really looks a lot more like Mike than you, Len…”.”
