Tag Archives: Nuclear Navy

What We Can Learn from the Rickover Papers

By Claude Berube, PhD

With nearly a dozen biographies, countless articles, and word-of-mouth stories, Admiral Hyman G. Rickover may be the most written- or talked-about flag officer in US naval history. Can we still learn anything about the man, what he did, or why he did it? Beginning in the 1950s, many authors and publishers approached Rickover about a biography or autobiography – Simon & Schuster, Harper & Row, Naval Institute Press, etc. He rejected them all, wryly noting that “autobiography is only to be trusted when it reveals something disgraceful. A man who gives a good account of himself is probably lying, since life when viewed from the inside is simply a series of defeats.” Dr. Francis Duncan, a historian working for Atomic Energy Commission, eventually wrote two authorized biographies based on more than a decade with Rickover, as recorded in copious notes. Duncan also had the advantage of having access to the most substantive collection of Rickover papers. Rickover was a master of shaping his image; consequently, an authorized, contracted biography with Duncan offered the best opportunity for him to manage that story.

Historian Barbara Tuchman wrote that historians should use primary sources only because secondary sources have already been pre-selected and that one should read two or three versions of any episode to account for bias. Such is the case with every Rickover biography. When in 1983 a columnist from The Washington Post asked Rickover to write a biography, the Admiral explained that he had already compiled volumes of his thoughts and reflections on various subjects over the years and that he did not want to condense them into a book. However, he did allow that perhaps someone else may decide to do that someday. That was what Duncan had access to and is now finally available to researchers.

Retained in Rickover’s Arlington condominium until his second wife Eleonore’s passing in 2021, the collection was bequeathed by her to the US Naval Academy. They were then catalogued and made available in the Nimitz Library’s Special Collections and Archives. Rickover’s papers include personal correspondence, memoranda from meetings with journalists, congressmen, admirals, and presidents, as well as transcripts of telephone conversations and the famed interviews with applicants of the nuclear program. This totals approximately 250 archival boxes, arguably one of the largest collections of any U.S. naval officer.

Perhaps the most insightful and significant papers are the daily letters to and from his first wife Ruth in the decade leading up to the Second World War. This is the real education of Hyman G. Rickover – researchers will learn how he shaped himself and, more importantly, how he was influenced by Ruth.

Researchers will find plenty on the recommendations and behind-the-scenes decision-making of major programs throughout the Cold War, all thanks to Rickover who left such incredibly detailed records. The papers will confirm the mythology and stories about Rickover all these years; but it will also surprise many people. There are other aspects to the man and the officer.

He received thousands of fan mail letters from home and abroad. He was as likely to get a note of thanks from a teacher in Chicago, a student in San Francisco, or a young adult in Ghana, as he would from a member of the Senate Armed Services Committee or president of a major corporation. He was recognizable – he was, for example, one of the few Navy admirals to grace the cover of Time magazine after World War Two and television talk shows sought him out because of his outspokenness and appeal to the broader public.

Rickover’s wide-ranging contacts and interests are reflected in his Rolodex. Contact cards for influential economists John Galbraith (top left) and Milton Friedman (top right) are shown with an entry for the 1981 film Das Boot (bottom).

Rickover succeeded by his intellect. He was driven by curiosity and learning what he did not know. He was a voracious reader even on his early ships and submarines trying to understand the world around him. Among those literally thousands of works were Michael Ossorgin’s Quiet Street, Captain Robert Scott’s letters on his voyage of discovery to the South Pole, Boris Pilnyak’s The Volga Falls to the Caspian Sea, Karl Marx’s Das Capital, and Adolph Hitler’s Mein Kampf. Readers may be surprised that Rickover, a Polish-Jewish emigre, would read this notorious work, however the answer may lie in the fact that Rickover read articles and books not to agree with them but to understand the ideas shaping the world both negatively and positively. Another factor may have been understanding his first wife Ruth’s country of origin better and communicating with her as he saw her as not an intellectual equal but his intellectual superior. Rickover, never one to do anything by halves, taught himself German in order to translate a book on U-Boat tactics.

He faced personal challenges. He was self-aware enough as a junior officer that he could admit to his young wife Ruth his sudden fits of depression and despair and being tormented by the “slough of despond.” He later admitted to his official biographer that he suffered from an inferiority complex. Perhaps these were simply part of what drove him to succeed and surpass his peers in some ways.

Admiral Rickover meets with President Kennedy. (Photo via JFK presidential library and museum)

Rickover held integrity as one of the highest character traits. He could not be compromised. During a meeting with his friend the British Lord Mountbatten, Rickover was offered a knighthood in exchange for an agreement on submarine information, resulting in Rickover returning to the dining room his face “pale with anger.” On their way home, he told his second wife Eleanore the story and concluded with, “Can you believe he didn’t know me any better than this – that I would fall for a knighthood?” True to Eleonore’s nature, she responded, “But I’ll always be a Lady.”

He challenged elitism everywhere – the Navy, large defense contractors, economic classes – likely because he had risen from a childhood of such poverty that his mother could only afford an orange once a year in Poland. He was acutely aware of his role and his destiny in the Navy, not simply as Hyman Rickover, but as someone who had arrived in the United States with nothing and whose religious background might have been an impediment at the time. As he told his biographer and preserved in countless notes made by Duncan, “My job, as I saw it, was to struggle through to the greatest accomplishment of which I was capable, ignoring, as far as possible, my Jewishness. This is not to say that I denied it. What I denied was the power it had to limit self-development, to force me to act humbly, rather than arrogantly, to suffer.”

No factor contributed more to enabling Rickover’s successful career than Congress. A student of history, he realized that the Royal Navy’s Admiral Sir Jackie Fisher made political connections as a young officer and, consequently, it was easier for him to make reforms, a discussion that occurred between Rickover and his friend Lord Mountbatten. He knew how to cultivate support among members – by giving them the information they asked for and having a reputation for efficiency. He was idolized and befriended by members of Congress. Over the course of four decades, he testified before congressional committees more than two hundred times – a record likely unsurpassed by any military officer or civilian.

Figure 1.
Figure 2.

Rickover spoke to them in hearings, and in personal conversations, in ways no other military officer could or would dare. He was honest, direct, and, yes, he could entertain them with his sharp wit even in a hearing that would never occur in the 21st century. They loved him for it. They respected his technical expertise, but they also expected and valued his candor. For some, he became their friend “Rick.” Rickover notes attending DC plays with Senator Scoop Jackson and their wives or dining at the home of House Appropriations Chairman Clarence Cannon who played the piano for him. Rickover’s influence, reputation, and relationships with senior congressional leaders was such that he would be called to answer off the record questions or when some members needed help. In one case, Congressman Charles Price wanted to see House Appropriations Chairman Cannon who was not seeing anyone. Price appealed to Rickover to intervene. Cannon, upon Rickover’s request, acceded and met with Price. And it was an intervention by Congress, not the Navy, which would promote him to flag rank.

In his early years as an admiral, the Navy brass and a Secretary of Defense tried to temper Rickover’s influence with Congress to no avail. As one admiral noted after a conference in Monterey of flag officers on the Rickover problem, “there isn’t a damn thing we can do to him or about him, because he’s got the Congress on his side, and we’d just better live with it.”

Most in the U.S. Navy’s submarine community have heard the stories of the famous Rickover interviews, where he would place the midshipmen in uncomfortable situations or berate them to determine how they could respond to adversity, but now aside from the experiences of those young midshipmen, we now have concrete evidence. Actual transcripts of many of those interviews exist in this collection. His reputation was cemented by the famed “interviews” of midshipmen applying – or in many cases told to apply – to the nuclear reactor program. Rickover required some candidates to have their parents or fiancées write letters on their behalf understanding why the midshipman would have to sacrifice time away from them (again, the letters of which are in this collection). Perhaps it was because the Navy had refused Rickover’s own request as a junior officer for a specific billet to accommodate Ruth in her career.

A partial transcript of an interview between Rickover and a nuclear power program candidate.

The interviews, as well as his speeches and memos, make it clear that though he was involved with and promoted technology, he placed a higher value on the humanities. As he questioned the midshipmen, he would discuss history, philosophy, religion, and management and not their technical skills. He writes that he can train anyone for the nuclear program but they had to be able to think and the humanities offered the best grounding for those future officers.

Rickover gave and wrote hundreds of speeches. His first known speech was in 1931 on the topic of the World Court to the Portsmouth, New Hampshire Kiwanis Club. Later that decade he spoke to technical organizations. His speech to a wider audience, “The Importance of Education in the Advancement of our National Resources,” occurred in 1953. Soon after, he was frequently invited to speak to a variety of organizations domestically and internationally. Rickover’s speeches were a breadth of practical, philosophical, and governmental issues: “Thoughts on Man’s Purpose in Life,” “Competency Based Education,” “The Decline of the Individual,” “An Effective National Defense,” “The Meaning of a University,” “Liberty, Science & the Law,” and “A Humanistic Technology” are just a few. On average, he gave at least one speech monthly. Education would be his obsession – in addition to the nuclear navy which he saw as inextricably intertwined.

Retired Vice Admiral Hyman G. Rickover prepares to enter the nuclear-powered attack submarine USS Hyman G. Rickover (SSN 709) for a tour at the conclusion of the ship’s commissioning ceremony. (Photo via U.S. National Archives)

He could be curt, rude, and abusive to officer candidates for the nuclear power program, to the point where the Chief of Naval Operations gently asked him to reconsider his methods. On the other hand, the papers show he could engender such loyalty from his technical and administrative staff that many stayed with him throughout his tenure as he fathered the nuclear navy for three decades. The internal office memos written by Rickover to his staff or his sharp wit to Senators and Members of Congress during congressional hearings are insightful.

People are often more complex than perceptions. The papers clearly demonstrate that Rickover had an unexpected compassionate streak. He helped his staff when they needed to move to a new assignment and would loan them money to purchase a new home; he voraciously wrote get well notes to people he knew, especially if they were children of friends. All the money he made from speeches, articles and books was donated to charities such as orphanages, disabled children societies, CARE, etc. In Shanghai as the Japanese invade China, Rickover stopped to tend to the poor and dying on the streets. One letter is from a young boy named Hyman from California taunted at school for his name and was told by his mother that there was an admiral with the same name. Rickover responded to him, explained to him the history of the name, and gave him advice. In all of this collection, Rickover only signed “H.G. Rickover,” except in this case where his empathy led him to sign his name, “Hyman Rickover.”

These papers represent a new era for understanding Rickover, the Navy, and the nation. These papers should eventually be made public so that Rickover might be known on his own terms and uncensored, even decades after his death. There is more work to be done, and I hope some historians will explore those papers. There are dozens of books to be written and, perhaps someday, a full transcription of all these papers will be completed.

Claude Berube, PhD, is a history professor at the US Naval Academy and former director of the Naval Academy Museum. He and archivist Samuel Limneos edited a volume of a portion of the Rickover papers, Rickover Uncensored, published in October 2023.

Featured Image: Admiral Hyman Rickover. (Photo via Naval History and Heritage Command)

The God of Submarines


Unknown

Rear Admiral Dave Oliver, USN (Ret.),  Against the Tide: Rickover’s Leadership Principles and the Rise of the Nuclear Navy. Naval Institute Press. 178pp. $27.95.

Admiral Hyman George Rickover, USN, (1900 – 1986), has been gone now for almost thirty-years.  Yet his legacy remains — and not only in the boats he built, or the submarine culture he shaped, or even the incessant attention to detail and excellence — but also the theatrical.  Thus, most stories of the great man are told in either a tone of reverence or disbelief, but regardless, they tend to be entertaining.

I’ll never forget the first story that I had heard about the old man. When I was a young ensign, somehow his name came up during a conversation:

Officer: Hey, have you ever heard of Admiral Rickover and what he did when he interviewed officers for command?

Me: No, I haven’t heard about him.  What did he do?

Officer: Well, Rickover would interview every prospective commanding officer of a nuclear submarine. So, this one time, an officer was in his office and Rickover said to him, “Do something to make me mad.” The guy looks at Rickover, and then he knocks everything off Rickover’s desk, including a valuable model of a submarine.  Rickover was furious — but apparently it worked, the officer got the job and ended up commanding a nuclear submarine.  Crazy, huh?

Me: (Stunned silence).

A few years later, more stories would come up — and they always had something to do with his infamous interviews: Rickover stuffed officers in the broom closet next to his office if they gave a poor response to a question; Rickover sawed a few inches off the legs of the chair in front of his desk to confuse an officer interviewing for the program; and Rickover had no qualms about calling you an idiot.  The best, and really the only complete transcript of a Rickover interview comes from the late-Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, who, as a commander, interviewed with Rickover in the late 1950s for command of a submarine.  While Zumwalt passed the interview (although with a few stops in the broom closet along the way) he ended up going a different direction.  He became the first commanding officer of a  guided-missile frigate, and  years later,  the youngest chief of naval operations in U.S. naval history. His memoir, On Watch, is worth the price of admission for the interview alone.

Rear Admiral Dave Oliver, USN(ret.), however, has less to say about his interview with Rickover in his new book, Against The Tide.  Rather, Oliver has written an entertaining, slim volume that is a series of anecdotes and stories tied to leadership and management principles gleaned from years of observing and studying “the father of the nuclear navy.”

On Leadership: “I have the charisma of a chipmunk, so what difference does that make?”

– Admiral Hyman Rickover

Early in the book, Oliver tells us one of the more interesting stories about Rickover and his ability to expect the unexpected.  It is worth telling in full.

It was the late 1960s the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. were in the middle of the Cold War. Oliver was deployed on his first nuclear-powered submarine, USS George Washington Carver (SSBN-656).  While returning from a patrol, somewhere in the Barents Sea, they received an encoded message from the boat that was enroute to relieve them.  The boat set to relieve them experienced a “technical problem.”  Oliver can’t say what kind of technical problem because, well, it “remains classified to this day.”  Thus, he simply refers to it as a “giraffe.”

The “giraffe” that this boomer had experienced was unheard of: “It was serious and was the first time this particular problem had ever arisen in the fledgling nuclear-power industry.” A message was immediately sent to Navy Nuclear Reactors.  Rickover would find out about the problem — it was only a matter of time.  Meanwhile, Oliver and the officers of the Carver sat down and tried to figure out a solution to the problem themselves, treating it as a real-world training evolution.  In a few hours they came up with a solution.  Oliver says that Carver’s solution took up twelve single spaced type-written pages.  They thought that they had figured it out and then hit the rack.  Hours later, Navy Reactors sent a message to “their sister ship” with instructions on how to proceed.  The length of the message?  Four words. 

And in those four words, Oliver says, they recognized its wisdom and — as a group — missed a safety consideration that just might have killed the entire crew.  Years later, Oliver ran into Rickover’s deputy for submarines, Bill Wegner.  Oliver says he thanked Wegner for that great four word response from what he assumed, was a group of Navy Reactor engineers.

As it turned out, the engineers came up with the same response as the officers on the Carver — something close to a twelve page type-written response to address the problem of the “giraffe.”  And this is where it gets interesting.  Wegner relayed to Oliver that when the event occurred, he went to Rickover’s apartment in Washington D.C. with a response in hand for the admiral’s approval to send to the boat. As Wegner tells Oliver:

“The admiral stood in the hall reading without comment and then invited me inside.  He went over to the rolltop desk that was just off the living room, reached into one of the pukas, and took out a half-inch thick package of yellowed envelopes encased by a rubber band.  He fanned through the pile, slipped one out from the pack and handed it to me. ‘Tell them this,“he said.”

“On the outside of the envelope, in Rickover’s handwriting was written ‘Giraffe’ … also inside, in Rickover’s distinctive scribble, was a three-by-five card with the four words we sent you.”

This pack of “emergency contingency plans” were there, sitting in Rickover’s desk, for the day the unexpected might happen.  Why they weren’t already onboard boats in the fleet, well, Wegner went on to tell Oliver that “…Rickover was not interested in anyone else in the Navy knowing how far he was willing to stretch engineering limits in an emergency situation.  Rickover believed in operating conservatively and safely.  In those envelopes he was going to give up a great deal of his safety cushion to provide an additional operating margin…” [Italics mine].

But not interested in letting anyone else know?  A story like this, then, can be seen in at least two ways: Rickover the genius; a man prepared for all seasons.  Or its opposite: Rickover was a micromanager that could have empowered his crews with information that in a different and deadlier circumstance could save their lives.  What does Oliver say at the end of this story?  He asks two of his own questions for the reader to ponder: “Do directors of companies sometimes accept risks they cannot evaluate until the bell tolls? And second, how do leaders avoid fooling themselves about the true condition of their own start-ups?”  Oliver ends every chapter with these kind of questions for self-reflection or discussion.  However, it would be nice to also hear Oliver’s take on the same questions he asks.

“There were a few times, yeah, that I hated him — because he demanded more from me than I thought I could deliver.”

– President Jimmy Carter

Leadership books that dip into the anecdotal stories of great men and women’s lives are often hagiographic. Oliver, as he says, respected Rickover second only to his father.  This admiration does not necessarily take anything away from the value of the work or the merit of Rickover’s principles.

But for every leadership book that sits on the shelf it is important to remember that one can learn just as much about leadership from a leader’s failures and shortcomings.  Rickover was a paradox on this count.  Oliver reminds us that one of Rickover’s mantras was  “Do the right thing.” Yet in 1986 Rickover was censured by the secretary of the navy for accepting over $60,000 in gifts from General Dynamics (twelve shower curtains?).  Rickover did not deny it, and he would later say that his “conscience was clear,” the gifts, he said, never influenced his decisions when it came to the submarine force.

Rickover was a contentious man, a brilliant man, and he had magical bureaucratic skills and vision: Imagine Peter Drucker and Steve Jobs all rolled up into one slight, white haired, five foot wiry frame.  And he could write.  Name a flag officer today that can wrap up Robert Browning, Walter Lippmann, I-Ching, Voltaire, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Teddy Roosevelt, and Aristotle into a single cogent essay.

Dave Oliver’s book is a nice volume to have on the shelf.  But it should not be read alone.  Rickover, his cult of personality, and his  legacy in the U.S. Navy needs a  larger context.  Polmar and Allen’s exceptional biography should sit right next to Oliver’s book for anyone who is considering learning more about this, the “father of the nuclear navy.”

 

Lieutenant Commander Christopher Nelson, USN, is a naval intelligence officer and recent graduate of the U.S.  Naval War College and the Navy’s operational planning school, the Maritime Advanced Warfighting School in Newport, RI.  LCDR Nelson is also CIMSEC’s book review editor and is looking for readers interested in reviewing books for CIMSEC.  You can contact him at books@cimsec.org.  The views above are the author’s and do not represent those of the US Navy or the US Department of Defense.