Aboard the United States Monitor Monterey
Yangtze River, China
November 1901
Despite the late evening hour, Lieutenant William Sims continued to write by the dim light in his cabin. His ship, the monitor Monterey, had left Shanghai earlier that day to begin a slow patrol up the river. He never tired of his writing ritual, and when his watches ended, he would frequently be found putting his thoughts to paper. His thoughts always involved the navy. For Sims, the navy was his life. A bachelor in his early forties, he had no outside interests and considered himself married to the service. Tall, handsome, and articulate, his brilliance was somewhat contradicted by his middle-of-the-class graduation standing in the United States Naval Academy, Class of 1880.
Considering his junior officer status, Sims was both pleased and flattered that he had a growing reputation and a fairly large following in navy circles. He was representative of the new breed of naval officers; those who sought true reform and improvement in many facets of the navy. The young reformers found themselves opposed by the inertia of the establishment — the old school senior officers who tended to stifle innovative thought and seemed to be content to grow old in their admirals’ uniforms. Despite these obstacles, Sims had become the voice of the younger generation. This status resulted largely from the frequent airing of his ideas and impressions in the form of lengthy letters not only to the Navy Department, but to many of his colleagues as well. He had returned to sea duty only the year before after having served as naval attaché in Paris, Madrid, and St. Petersburg for a three-year period. During that tenure, he had ample time to write and send a voluminous amount of reports on a myriad of topics. These reports were widely read, and he had developed a cult following of officers who looked forward to reading the latest report of Sims’ impressions. Among those who had been impressed by his reports was the Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Theodore Roosevelt, who took the time to send an occasional short letter to the observant naval attaché. After three years in Europe, Sims received orders to the battleship Kentucky in Gibraltar and sailed to the Far East, where he joined the Monterey on China Station.
It was not in Sims’ personality to remain an underground icon. He freely acknowledged that he was an extremely opinionated officer and was especially passionate about two issues: naval gunfire marksmanship (or rather, the lack thereof) and battleship design. His main fear was that he might be destined to remain only an idea man who was a prolific letter writer; one who, in the end, would not make a difference in his beloved navy. In September 1901, an event occurred that was to change the lives of many people, including the life of Lieutenant William Sims. An assassin’s bullet took the life of President William McKinley, and on September 19, Vice President Theodore Roosevelt was sworn in as president of the United States. Roosevelt, an avid naval historian and former assistant secretary of the navy, was also a reformer and innovative thinker. When Sims learned that Roosevelt had taken office, he realized that it was time to gamble, and he was ready to roll the dice.
As he finished the lengthy letter that evening, he knew he would be violating naval protocol. He was about to correspond directly with the president of the United States. Doing so was unheard of. All such letters had to be vetted through the chain of command and, ultimately, through the Navy Department before they would even be sent to the White House. Once there, the odds of penetrating the White House bureaucracy were indeed slim. It was highly unlikely that Roosevelt would ever see the original letter. However, Sims felt that he had a kindred spirit in Roosevelt, and, if he read the man correctly, the letter just might bypass the White House bureaucracy and make it to the president personally. If Roosevelt did receive the letter, Sims was confident that the president would give a fair hearing to his ideas. The issue that Sims wrote about that particular November evening was the horrendous state of affairs in naval gunfire, and his ideas on how to remedy the problem.
Although he was in Europe during the Spanish-American War, Sims had become extremely knowledgeable about all facets of the war. He had studied the gunnery results extensively and was mortified, although not surprised, by the results. He had been disgusted to read that in the battle of Manila Bay, Admiral Dewey’s ships had fired about six thousand projectiles and recorded fewer than 150 hits on target. The Battle of Santiago produced even worse results. He had recently read the results of a special target practice by the North Atlantic Squadron during which all five ships managed to hit their target a total of only two times! These dismal results seemed to be the standard for the United States Navy and for many of the world’s other naval forces as well. The old guard was content to live with this reality. William Sims was not, and he had an answer.
During his time in Far East, he had befriended Captain Sir Percy Scott, commanding officer of HMS Terrible. Scott himself was a known naval innovator and a rebel like Sims. Scott had heard about his writing exploits and felt an instant kinship for the young American officer. “You know, Lieutenant Sims, to our respective navies, we are both royal pains in the arse!” Scott had expounded over dinner in the Terrible’s wardroom. The effect of several brandies made that comment outrageously funny to both of the officers, as well as the other British officers dining with them. It was at that dinner that Scott got the idea to have Sims go out to sea with them. “Why not see a demonstration of real gunnery instead of the rot that passes for it in the British and American navies?” offered the enthusiastic commanding officer. Sims eagerly accepted the offer after receiving permission from his own commanding officer.
At sea the next week, Sims watched the Terrible demonstrate its skill at naval gunnery. The results astounded him. Round after round was delivered right on target with deadly accuracy. Scott had shown Sims that this accuracy resulted from a system that he had developed called “continuous-aim firing.” Sims realized that he now had the answer he had been seeking. He became determined to introduce this innovative idea to the United States Navy. Scott taught him all facets of the new technique. Sims knew that the old guard would oppose any such innovations, but he had the support of a very influential officer, Rear Admiral George Remey, Commander in Chief of the Asiatic Fleet. Remey had liked Sims’ ideas and promised a strong endorsement of his letter. Sims also believed that if he could just get the letter to President Roosevelt that he, too, would support his ideas on gunfire.
Sims finished his lengthy letter and folded it neatly. He would arrange to have it delivered to Rear Admiral Remey as soon as possible for his endorsement. He stretched, yawned, and then thought to himself, I have the watch from 0400 to 0800, and it is nearly midnight. I had better get some sleep. He undressed to his underwear and climbed into his rack. In his mind, he replayed the sight of round after round hitting its intended target. It proved to be better than counting sheep. He fell asleep in minutes.
* * *
On an unseasonably warm January afternoon, Lieutenant William Sims stood on the bridge of the Monterey. He was assigned as officer of the deck for the 1200-1600 watch as they began to make the first approach to Shanghai. As he looked out over the forward turret that housed two of the Monterey’s twelve-inch guns, he could see the sun first beginning to set as his watch drew to a close. He reflected on his tour aboard the Monterey. Surprisingly, he had enjoyed it tremendously, much more that he had expected. The four-thousand-ton ship actually handled quite well, although speed was a definite problem. The ship could only make six, perhaps seven knots at best.
Sims had become very well respected among the other eighteen officers and 136 enlisted crew of the Monterey. Best of all, he had ample time for his writing.
His watch relief, Lieutenant Junior Grade Ellis Hansen, had just reported to the bridge for their turnover. After relaying all of the relevant data, they saluted each other and Hansen crisply barked, “I’ve got the conn.” Returning the salute, Sims replied, “I stand relieved.” As Sims began to walk out of the bridge house, Hansen called after him, “Mr. Sims, I almost forgot. The skipper wants to see you in his cabin as soon as you come off watch.”
“Any idea what it’s about?” asked Sims.
“I really don’t know, sir. I was just told to give you the message.”
“Very well then,” Sims replied as he exited the bridge and headed for the captain’s cabin. After knocking on the door, the captain ordered him to enter. The commanding officer of the Monterey was Commander Eugene Luetze, a pleasant man whom Sims greatly admired. “Please sit down, Mr. Sims,” he offered, “I have something for you.” As Sims took a seat at the table where the skipper was seated, Luetze handed him an envelope. “It’s not every day a member of my crew gets a personal letter from the president of the United States! Congratulations, Mr. Sims,” he said, beaming with pride.
Sims stared at the envelope, which had a White House franking insignia in the upper left corner. It was addressed to “LT William S. Sims, USN, c/o Commanding Officer Monterey, FPO China Station Shanghai.” The next line read, “Personal and Confidential.” Sims began to open the envelope and then looked up at his skipper. “Go ahead, if you like,” assured Commander Luetze, “or, if you prefer to go back to your stateroom to read it, feel free to do so. After all, it is a personal letter. I only ask that you use your judgment to keep me informed on any of the contents that are germane to this command. You are dismissed, Mr. Sims.” Sims promptly thanked his skipper and departed for his cabin.
Closing the door behind him, he sat on his rack and stared at the envelope. The very fact that he was receiving a personal letter from President Roosevelt told him that his letter had made it directly to the president as he had hoped. His gamble had been successful! Now to see what Roosevelt had written. Let’s see if I read this man correctly, Sims thought to himself as he carefully tore open the envelope. He unfolded the short, one-page letter, noting the stationery head containing the engraved block letters PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.
“My dear LT Sims,” it began, “I have read with great interest your letter dated 16 November 1901.” It was a short, polite letter in which Roosevelt thanked Sims for his thoughtful letter and invited him to correspond again. He assured Sims that any further letters from him would be brought to his personal attention. That was the entire content of the letter. Sims pulled his legs up on the rack and stretched back, the letter face down on his chest. After staring at the overhead for a few minutes, he re-read the letter. The letter said absolutely nothing at first and second glance. His letter, it would appear, had no impact on Roosevelt.
But Sims began weighing the evidence before him. Why would the president of the United States even bother to write a personal letter to a lieutenant? Especially a letter that said nothing and yet invited him to write again and guaranteed that the president would personally read the letters? As Sims lay back with his hands behind his head, he suspected that perhaps he had succeeded in his gamble.
In fact, Sims was correct in his suspicions. Several weeks before, President Roosevelt had read Sims’ letter and had been thoroughly impressed with the lieutenant’s proposals. He had remembered Sims’ informative letters from Europe, and when he received the November 16th letter, he knew he had a kindred spirit, and one he needed to cultivate. Never one to be satisfied with the status quo, Roosevelt had found the perfect man to whom he would entrust the modernization of the United States Navy, a rebel and reformer like himself. Interestingly, they were exactly the same age, and both young men were eager for the missions on which they were embarking.
Roosevelt did note one problem with his plans for Sims. He was still a junior officer. Throwing obvious support and responsibilities to such a junior officer could negatively affect the man’s career. The entrenched bureaucracy would resent the younger man’s influence and would work within the archaic status quo to diminish Sims’ promotability and destroy his naval career. No, Roosevelt reasoned to himself, I have to be subtle with this situation. Instead, he ordered that Sims’ report on the poor state of naval gunnery be printed and sent to every officer on active duty in the navy. The reports would be sent without any reference to Lieutenant William Sims. Roosevelt, determined to overhaul the navy, knew that Sims' letter would be his opening salvo. What the entrenched old-school bureaucracy did not know was that a junior officer, Lieutenant William S. Sims, had supplied the president’s ammunition.
In late January, the Monterey tied up pier-side in Shanghai when a wagon arrived from the U. S. Consulate with mail for the crew. Mail call sounded with the usual trumpets and the administrative department handed out the sorted mail. Each of the officers that day received an identical official letter from the Navy Department. The title was: “On the State of Naval Gunnery,” and the letter explained the poor state of marksmanship in the navy. It went on to state that improvement in naval gun accuracy would be a priority of the president. It did not describe a remedy, but it put the navy on notice. Change was coming.
That evening in the wardroom, his fellow officers congratulated Sims, for they all knew that this coming change was because of his influence on the president. Commander Luetze proposed a toast to Sims, and the wardroom downed several rounds in tribute to their outspoken rebel leader. Sims was euphoric. He had been correct. He had read Roosevelt correctly, and his gamble had paid off. Soon it would be time to begin his important work in earnest.