I will never forget the time the USS SAINT PAUL went on a goodwill cruise to Portland, Oregon. It was during the famous Rose Festival. It was amazing how the roses would be in full bloom during the winter season. It was more amazing to see and be a part of the navigation done through the Willamette River. I thought it would really be impossible for the USS SAINT PAUL to navigate and much less, sail through a river. However, much to my amazement it did. More amazing was how all the crew was treated once we tied the ship to a tree in Portland. The pier was filled with people of all ages welcoming the ship and its crew to the city of Portland, Oregon. When got off the ship the people, especially the girls, wanted our autograph.
It was then that I knew how a movie star feels when surrounded by fans. My friend and I had not walked three blocks when we got a ride with two girls driving a brand new car. They treated us to fried chicken and french fries. They gave us a tour of their proud and beautiful city. After night fell on us they took us to what looked like a very dark park with not a single light. We had a picnic and ate the rest of the left-over-chicken. In the early morning when the sun started showing its rays of light my friend got up screaming. I woke up and next thing I know he is next to me asking me if I knew where we were. I looked around and found out we had spent the night in a cemetery. I will never forget Portland, Oregon; the girls that gave us a ride; the chicken and to say the least, the cemetery.
As a Lt. on December 7, 1941, he was the assistant gunnery officer on the USS West Virginia. On his own, he went to damage control central and prevented her from capsizing. She had seven torpedoes in her side just like the Oklahoma. Look at pictures of Pearl Harbor, and you see the West Virginia next to the Tennessee and it does not look like she sunk, but she did. I do not believe that any one on the St. Paul knew that Captain Ricketts was the one who had saved the West Virginia. I found out about it after my wife got me a series of Morrison’s naval history series. He would come to the wardroom and apologize to the officer’s of the deck for taking the Conn away from them. No captain needs to apologize to any OOD!
He was a gentleman. He knew that whatever happened, the St. Paul would be his last ship command. The way he first handled the ship to come along side to pass messenger mail was so much different. We were ahead of the ship to which we were to go alongside, so the normal procedure was to shear out of line, slow down until we were behind the ship to which we were to pass the mail, then speed up and come alongside, slowing down as we approached. This is NOT what Captain Rickets did! He ordered full speed and right rudder, which caused the EXEC and the Navigator to turn away, leaving only the OOD, JOD, and me the JOOD to watch. This caused the ship to move in a large circle slowing down as he approached the ship’s course ending up behind the ship to which we were to pass the mail, and proceeded from that position in the normal manner. This way he maintained a maximum amount of steerageway. When a friend of mine had the duty, and had permission to go ashore to pick up his wife and parents and was waiting for the officer’s motor boat, another Captain Ricketts anecdote occurred. He comes and asks Fred what he is doing. Fred explains that he has the duty and has permission to come ashore to get his family and is waiting for the officer’s motor boat to take them to the ship for dinner. Captain Ricketts says, “Why wait”, he then helps Fred’s mother and wife into the gig and tells Fred to get into the gig and then gets into the gig himself; the gig heads toward the ship. What happens next is what is interesting, as the captain, he should go up first and receive the honors, but no, Captain Ricketts helps the ladies on to the gangway and tells Fred to go up with his family and then he went up last. Captain Ricketts was an officer and a gentleman!
As 6th division officer, I had to take a man to Captain’s Mast. Captain Ricketts required that the division officer write a report on what you thought of the man and what you recommend for punishment. He read my recommendations, ‘read the man out’ saying how much he was disappointed in him, and how he had wasted “Mr. Lauterbach’s time.” He then told me to handle the matter. This way, I could hold the man’s liberty card, and no mark would show on his service record. Not right by UCMJ, but one of Captain Ricketts’ fortes was leadership in this fashion.
I by now was a qualified OOD, it was a mid-watch, the war was over, and we were steaming between Japan and Korea. Captain Ricketts is asleep in his sea cabin. We get a visual and radar contact with constant bearing and decreasing range. I notify Captain Ricketts. He tells me to notify him when it is at a certain range. I do so. He comes out of his sea cabin. It is obvious to him that it is a trawler with a net over the side with a light on to attract fish into the net and it will pass about 50 yards or so by our starboard side. He also believes that the crew is asleep. He then blows our ships whistle and says, “I understand that this is customary around here. Good night!” The bridge watch could hardly stand up they were laughing so hard.
Again, while I was OOD and we were steaming after gunnery exercises of off San Clement at 10 Kts, Captain Ricketts ordered consecutively Standard, Full, and Flank speeds, at which the engineering watch called on the phone asking, “What was going on?” I replied, “The captain has the conn” Later Captain Ricketts ordered back full emergency! Again, the engineering watch called and got the same response from me. Captain Ricketts said that he wanted the engineers to respond immediately to engine orders when they are given. Captain Ricketts was selected for Rear Admiral while on the St. Paul and was not in the promotion zone. He later became COMSIXTHFLT and died Vice Chief of Naval Operations from what I understand. Again, he was an officer and a gentleman!
My father enlisted in the Navy at the age of 21 years old. His passion for what the Navy and the world had to offer was endless. The stories that my father told us was that he enjoyed traveling (Hawaii, Japan, Taiwan & Philippines), cooking in the kitchen and having fun with his buddies. He had a position as -Masters of Arms and Crewman.
I just wished that he could of seen what the world had to offer him of the past and memories of his cruise ship.
We are very proud of you Dad and your accomplishments.
– Elizabeth Lopez
Erasmo Ortiz Tovar BM3
Erasmo Tovar-Top Right
Erasmo Tovar – Middle
y father, Eddie C. Cadena was from Saspamco, Texas. He served aboard the USS SAINT PAUL in Bravo Division in 1953-1956 with the Korean War Service. He was under the area command of the Commandant Eleventh Naval District. He was awarded the Korean and China Service Medals.
He met my Mom when he was stationed in Long Beach, California at what was then called “The Pike.” My father loved to travel and especially the Navy.
My most happy moments were when he took us to see the ships in the harbor. In particular, it was a special moment when he took us to the open house the USS SAINT PAUL had when it was in Long Beach, California during the 1960’s.
My father was very proud of the USS SAINT PAUL CA-73. I hope someone recognizes my dad and will share some stories or photos.
Eddie C. Cadena
I will never forget the first time we had liberty call in Yokosuka, Japan. My friend Leo and I went ashore to check the place out.
After spending some time in the Cabaret Black Rose and had a couple of cool ones we started getting hungry and decided to get something to eat. Suddenly, we remember we were in another country faraway from our hometowns. There was no way we were going to be able to order “Tacos,” “Enchiladas,” much less “Chile Rellenos” with beans. Leo said not to worry, he knew how and what to order. Once we found a restaurant, we thought we liked, we went in and sat down. A Japanese waiter quickly presented us with a menu. I for one did not know what to do with it. Everything was in Japanese. I asked my friend Leo what he was going to order. I figured he knew because he kept on looking at the menu like as if he was reading it. Soon a Japanese waiter showed up, Leo told him to get us some Saki, and he pointed to some plate on the menu. I sat there and took in the scenery.
The waiter at once brought us the Saki and he placed it delicately on our table.
Being Hispanics, for some reason we decided to treat the Saki like as if it was a shot of “Tequila.” We gulped the Saki in one “wham” and asked the waiter for some lemon wedges. The waiter noticing what we had done, and with his eyes growing as big as the eyes on the fish heads, he had brought us, stared at us straight in our eyes. The waiter said something about the Saki, with his eyes popping out of their sockets, and by expression and sign language, we gathered that Saki was not supposed to be treated that way. I was not paying too much attention to his rebukes since, I was surprised and shocked to see a plate in front of me filled with fish heads, with huge popping eyes on white rice. Needless to say, our first dinner in Japan was white rice.
Before leaving the Cabaret Black Rose, my friend Leo got the scare of his life. We had been relaxing and drinking an ice, cold, beer in a can. After a while, when we were about ready to leave, Leo crushed the empty can of beer like they do in Topeka, Kansas to show their strength and machismo. I guess. Suddenly, a Japanese man, of short stature, got off the bar stool where he had been seating. He approached my friend Leo in an angry and almost criminal way and started yelling at the top of his lungs in Japanese at Leo.
Both Leo and I sat frozen on our bar stool not knowing what was going on, and much less why the Japanese man was so upset at Leo.
The bartender came over and started calming the Japanese man. After an eternity, the angry and with murder in his eyes Japanese man left the bar. It was then the bartender told us in broken English the man had gotten upset because Leo crushed the beer can, as they do in Topeka, Kansas. He went on to explain that in Japan the tin from the cans are a livelihood to the Japanese people. They made a living making little cars and all kinds of trinkets from the tin cans. In short, Leo was destroying their economy. After all that had happened to us on our first outing in Japan, Leo and I decided to be enlightened with the Japanese culture before we went on liberty again.
Many thanks and my greatest appreciation to Peter A. Pizzi (4th Division, 1961-1964) who let me borrow the 1962 Cruise Book. The 1962 Cruise Book is now shown in the web site. Many thanks also, and my greatest appreciation as well to Stephen R. Dall (Mike Division, 1968-1969) for letting me borrow the 1966, 1967, 1968 and 1969 Cruise Books, which are now displayed on the web site. I am very thankful to Mrs. Joan Irwin, wife of the late Commander Kay Irwin, who loaned me the 1960 Cruise Book.
That Cruise Book may also be seen in this web site. Many thanks and appreciation to Robert L. Stutz (Echo Division, 1955-1960) for lending me the 1956-57, 1958 and 1959 Cruise Books. I thank Tom Barbero (Mike Division 1967-1970) for making it possible to show the 1970 Cruise Book on the web site. The 1945, 1951, 1952, 1953 and 1954 Cruise Books are courtesy of The USS SAINT PAUL ASSOCIATION Archives.
Photo Sets Needed: I am interested in photos of the Decommissioning (1971) of the Ship photos. Also photos of the Portland, Oregon Goodwill visit. It will be greatly appreciate it if you let me know if you know of someone that might be willing to lend the above-mentioned photos. It will be appreciated if you give them my email address mario_chavez@msn.com or my cell phone number, (915) 491-7353.
Thank you very much. Past Webmaster, Mario Cesar Chavez
“Now hear this, Liberty Call, Liberty Call! Liberty commences at 1600 for sections 2 & 3…”
This was the most welcome sound to come over the 1MC.
Tim Jones
It was January 1969, San Diego, California. I’ve just been paid, $45.50 in cash. It’s Friday night and I have the weekend off. I’ve just spent my first week on the ship in the bilge, in Main Control, chipping paint. The recruiter never told me about this. What’s a sailor to do? Since this $45.50 has to last 15 days, I head to the Mess Deck and fill up on some of that good old Navy chow. Cup of Joe, Mystery Meat, Reconstituted Milk, Powdered Eggs and Bug Juice! Ah, the memories.
Now I have my belly full, I hit the rain locker for a shower, and get into my standard issue wool dress blues. Two red stripes and one military service ribbon. Those old salts in their gabardines sure look good. I think I’ll get a set of those when we get to Hong Kong and maybe a tattoo as well. I gather my forty-five bucks, my Liberty Card and head topside to catch the water taxi to the beach for a night of walking up and down Broadway. That’s all there was to do. No money, no car, 18 years old, and not old enough to bar hop either; Just walk up and down Broadway. And man was that weird.
Everyone wanted a piece of you. The Jewelry salesman, for one, would try to sell you a diamond ring for your girlfriend back home. And you know she’s in the backseat of your best friends 1956 Olds Rocket 88, steaming up the windows at the drive-in movie. To add to all this, the tattoo parlors, the transvestites, persons of unsavory character, the Holy Rollers, and the Buddhists tried to get a piece of you as well. To add insult to injury, the street preacher in the Square would tell me they were ready to save my soul. I felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz on arriving in this strange world. “This isn’t Kansas, Toto!”
After miles and miles of Broadway, my newfound friend, F.A. Booth and I are getting hungry. Booth was from Flushing, NY. I later realized he wasn’t as blown away by all this strange stuff as I was, being a farm boy, and Baptist preacher’s kid from out-in-the-boonies, Michigan. F.A. Booth saw some kind of opportunity in all this, but that’s another story. We are now being approached by a couple of good-looking girls wanting to take us to a potluck lunch at their church. So, with nothing better to do, we hop in a van with them and head off to their church.
When we arrive at the church, either the potluck is over or there never was one in the first place. The smell of food was nowhere to be found, only the smell of overworked underarm pits and cheap perfume. Before we know it, we get ushered in to our seats, those hard, cold, steel folding chairs. F.A. Booth is sitting next to a gas-fired space heater. Being respectful, we remove our white hats. Booth set his on the space heater.
The preacher gets up and starts preaching. It gets hot and heavy. Folks are raising their hands in the air and before long they’re speaking in tongues. Now I grew up in a Baptist church, but I had never experienced anything like this. Booth and I are doing everything we can to keep from busting a gut. The preacher sees this and he starts preaching straight at us. After a while, we just had to get out of there. My friend Booth gathers his white hat off the space heater, and it is scorched brown from the heat. It looks more like a burned taco than a hat. Him and I look at each other in amazement and silently think it’s a sign from the Lord! Anyway, we head out of that godforsaken place before my friend’s white hat was thoroughly cooked.
I don’t recall if the girls who enticed us to such a painful experience gave us a ride back downtown, or if we hitch hiked. But we did get back to the ship, and Booth got reprimanded for his scorched white hat. I don’t know whatever happened to the girls, but we took the bait and didn’t get the promised potluck lunch, a blessing, or a date.
Well, so much for my first weekend Liberty Call from the USS Saint Paul CA-73, and San Diego, California; to boot.
On March 21, 1969 the “Fighting Saint” was off for the Western Pacific, saying farewell to her homeport of San Diego for a seven-month cruise to the Far East. En route to Subic Bay, the ship stopped in Pearl Harbor for three days, where key crewmembers were briefed by the staff of Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet. On April 6 when SAINT PAUL passed near the island of Iwo Jima, the ship’s Marine Detachment honored the 4,300 Marines who were killed while taking this strategic island from the Japanese during World War II.
On April 10 the ship arrived in Subic Bay for a scheduled 10-day re-gunning period. But, on April 15, after North Korean jets shot down an unarmed Navy EC-121 reconnaissance plane off the coast of Korea, the USS Saint Paul received orders for emergency sortie. The ship was underway at first light the next morning for the Sea of Japan to join Task Force 71, the largest naval force assembled since the Korean Conflict.
I just remember being afraid. I had been introduced to the city of San Diego and all its outlandishness at the time. We were now cruising on our way to Viet Nam. The hours were long and the work was hard. The engine room was 135 degrees. There was no air-conditioning on the ship, at least not on any space I had access to, including our sleeping quarters. Mike division was located over the aft engine room and under the number three turret of the eight-inch turrets. We slept on canvas bunks lashed to an aluminum frame. When the gun turrets fired their salvos, it would almost bounce everyone up on our bunks like being on a trampoline. We ate, slept, dreamed and lived with heat rash. I was beginning to think if the Viet Cong didn’t kill us the wartime situation aboard the ship would. I thought I would never see my family again. I was weak as I was still recovering from mononucleosis that nearly killed me right before going to boot camp.
When we received the emergency order to leave Subic at first light for the coast of Korea, all the deck plates had been removed from the engine room. We had pulled up all the steel deck plates and were going to replace them with aluminum. The ship got emergency orders to get underway and we worked 36 hours strait while underway replacing the deck plates. When we finally finished the job, I was so tired I rested my sore and tired body down on a 135-degree diamond plate deck plate and fell asleep. I remember waking up with diamonds burned into my skin on my back. I was sure I was going to die. The worst thing about it was the diamonds weren’t real.
As soon as we got to the gun line off the coast of Viet Nam, I was sent to Mess Cook duty. Now this turned out to be a good gig. No watch to stand, the best chow, and not nearly as hot as the engine room. I spent most of my time in the Spud Locker, putting potatoes into a potato-peeling machine. It was here I made a new friend, Henry Wayne McKinney (Mac), from Mesquite, TX. He had brought his music with him and I was introduced to Country Music, the traditional style. It was great listening to that music. We became best of friends.
After 30 days of mess cooking, I was sent back to the engine room. I volunteered for more mess cooking, but no dice. “Back to the engine hole snipe!”
We finished the cruise and went back to San Diego in October. I miraculously, lived through it. I was no longer a BOOT. I was a salty dog. Life had to be better from then on.
Houstonian Escaped In Ship Explosion Seamen Tony Esquivel of Houston was on the cruiser St. Paul when an 8-inch gun turrent(sic) explosion killed 30 of his shipmates on April 21. But death was very close for Esquivel… only a moment or two away. Now that the censors have lifted the cloud of secrecy his story can be told. And he told it in a letter to his brother, E. M. Esquivel of 7331 Ave. K.
“Our division was just lucky I guess,” the 23-year-old sailor wrote. “We had just gotten out of there. It was just a matter of minutes.” Seaman Esquivel didn’t say where he was at the time of the blast which occurred while the battle-scarred cruiser was shelling the Korean coast; but he continued: “I was worried at first because I couldn’t find my buddy, Arthur. At the same time he was worried about me. I was really glad to see him out of danger. Will Never Forget “It was pretty bad, believe me; something that I will never forget. I have seen dead men before, but nothing like what happened here. These guys were burned to death.” Seaman Esquivel said no one knows how the explosion occurred because, “none of them lived to tell the story.” The sailor attended Edison Junior High School. He enlisted in 1948.
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VOL. 1 NO. 184 HOUSTON, TEXAS, FRIDAY, APRIL 25, 1952 U. S. CRUISER BLAST! 30 DIE Turret Explodes Off Korea TOKYO. Saturday, April 26, –(UP)—An explosion in the forward turret of the U.S. heavy cruiser St. Paul killed 30 men Monday while the ship was firing on Communist targets in Korea, the Navy announced today. The explosion was not caused by enemy action. It was the heaviest casualty suffered by any U. S. ship in the Korean war. The previous high casualty list was 26, suffered when the destroyer Walke hit a mine near Wonsan June 12, 1951. Details were lacking. A Navy spokesman in Tokyo said a powder bag may have caused the fire, leading to a heavy explosion inside the turret. The explosion may have flashed down inside the turret’s armor to kill the men in the upper ammunition handling room. Every man within the vicinity of the explosion was killed, the Navy said. There were no wounded. (In Washington the Navy said notification of next of kin had been delayed slightly because of the Western Union strike. Notifications were sent by special delivery air mail instead of the customary telegram.) The St. Paul retired from the action only long enough to put the dead aboard the American hospital ship Haven, which steamed north from Pusan to the scene of the accident, just off Komo, a North Korean coastal town about halfway between the front battle lines and Wosan on the Sea of Japan. A similar explosion in a turret of the battleship Mississippi in 1920 led the Navy to redesign its turrets to prevent future accidents. Rear Adm. Earl E. Stone, commander of Cruiser Division One, who uses the St. Paul as his flagship, ordered an immediate investigation of the accident. The St. Paul’s commander, Capt. Roy A. Gano, Falls Church, VA. kept his ship in position and continued action against the Communists. The St. Paul is a 17,400-ton ship of the Baltimore class and is a veteran of World War II. Instead of being put into mothballs as were most of the heavier U.S. ships she continued on active duty on the China station. She is now on her second tour of duty in Korean waters, having arrived back from the States on Nov. 21, 1951. Her wartime complement is 1700 officers and men.
When the heavy cruiser St. Paul slid into Inchon harbor the night of Sept. 15 the coast line and shore emplacements had already tasted the lethal power of its guns.
From dawn until late morning of Sept. 15, St. Paul, its sister ship the Rochester and the big Mo had pounded Inchon prior to the landing. Arthur Rodriguez
Then the invasion was pulled off and in several days the St. Paul was read to sail again.
But now when the St. Paul pushes into Inchon, past the little Island of Fusshi-To, it gets a royal noisy reception from 45 homeless orphaned waifs, one man and two women on the Island.
The ship’s crew is one, great big, adopted God-father to the children—and the kids are the unofficial wards of the ship’s crew.
One of the crew is 20-year-old Arthur Rodriguez, son of Mr. And Mrs. Ygnacio Rodriguez, of 17065 Elysian, and his account of the finding of the children was contained in a letter to Mrs. Felix Morales, wife of the owner of the Morales Funeral Home.
“On the island are 45 children,” wrote dark-haired Rodriquez. “They are taken care of by a man and two women, and we found them when we went over to fix a lighthouse.
“The kids range in age from 3 to 11 and they were all cold, hungry and sick.
“When the crew found out about it, they all chipped in something for the kids—like soap, blankets, candy and some clothing. We could not give them too much in the way of clothes, because ours were too big.
“But the doctor came over, too, and soon the kids that were sick were feeling better. We even made little canvas shoes for them, and we brought our tools over and fixed up a place with an old pot-bellied stove we found.
“Now they’re warm and feeling better, but they still need more things.”
Then young Rodriguez asked for help.
“It really hurts to see those little kids,” he wrote. “and we all hoped none of our kids would ever be like that. That’s why I’m asking you for help.”
“Can you do anything to help these kids? Anything you could send them they would appreciate. We help them as much as we can, but they need more.”
Young Rodriguez may get more help than he bargained for—and his appeal may bloom into a full-fledged, unofficial relief program.
Mrs. Morales is fixing up a basket and is getting her friends to pitch in.
Arthur’s parents are pitching in, getting things together and marking them care of the Port Director, Inchon, Korea.
Arthur’s three sisters, Irene and Dora Gonzales, who married brothers, and Maggie, are helping and getting friends to help, too.
No wonder the St. Paul gets a cheer when it passes Fusshi-To in Inchon Harbor.
– By Thomas Martin
USS Saint Paul AssociationAdministrative OfficesPO Box 929Greenville, OH 45331
info@usssaintpaulca73.org(937)459-4444
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