Down to the Sea

It was cold and gloomy in Groton, Conn, on the day the revolutionary Nautilus was launched. An old London fog enveloped New London, across the river, and the crowd of 15,000 that gathered around the bow of the world's first nuclear-powered submarine last week could not even see the stern. Nevertheless, the occasion was an auspicious and a proud one for the Navy. For Rear Admiral Ffyman Rickover (TIME, Jan. 11), it was the fulfillment of a dream, the end of a bitter, seven-year fight to introduce atomic power to the Navy.*

On the VIP stand with Rickover were Admiral Robert Carney, Chief of Naval Operations, and a swarm of the Navy's highest brass, industrialists. Senators, atomic scientists--and Sponsor Mamie Eisenhower, carrying a big bunch of roses and smiling pertly at everyone. The Coast Guard band played a specially written march, The Nautilus, and then there were the speeches. "A launching," said Lewis Strauss, chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission, "is always a prophetic and romantic occasion, but this literally transcends all which have gone before. For the Nautilus is ... something new under the sun."

As Strauss spoke, the fog lifted and the sun shone, drawing an audible gasp from the crowd and changing the scene from monochrome to bunting-bright Technicolor. Mamie Eisenhower and her party walked out on the narrow christening platform. High overhead, perched on a girder, a yard worker sang out, "Be sure and hit it hard. Mrs. Eisenhower." Mamie did. The First Lady swung hard, smashed the chrome-sheathed bottle of champagne expertly against the bow and, as the big green and black boat began to move down the greased ways, she cried, "I christen thee Nautilus "

The A-sub slid backward, gathering speed, as the band played and the crowd cheered and the yellow pennant on the conning tower fluttered gaily. The diminutive Rickover had to strain to get a look, when the Nautilus splashed into the icy Thames and floated away in flotsam from the launching cradle. As four tugs fumed up and nudged her toward a fitting-out dock, the Nautilus rode high in the water (her reactor and other heavy parts have not yet been installed). As she disappeared out of sight of the stands, the sun suddenly disappeared with her and the fog closed in again on Groton.

* This week President Eisenhower sent Rickover's name to the Senate with the recommendation that his temporary rank of rear admiral be made permanent.

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