Joiner Shop foreman George W. Burroughs, about 1901.
New construction was out of the question. The yard had known for years that the vessels already in the shiphouses and on the building ways (labeled “Rotten Row” by a local newspaper in 1882) would never be launched. So it came as no surprise that the order closing the yard also condemned Virginia, two wooden steamers, and a monitor—the latter three laid down during the Civil War. Still, it was disheartening that in the early 1880s a yard that had built and repaired ships was reduced to taking them apart.
At least the dismantling of vessels provided employment for the workers, who at this point felt quite vulnerable. Throughout the 1880s, “suspension” (being laid off) was always hanging over their heads. More than 500 men were employed at the yard when work was halted in mid-1883. There were around 300 by the end of the year and their ranks continued to thin, averaging less than 200 until 1888—most of them ropemakers, machinists, laborers, and watchmen.
Until World War I, jobs connected with supply would remain more stable than those related to construction and repair. In the late 1880s and ’90s, managers found ways to transfer men in the latter trades to other divisions within the yard in order to keep their services on call. But in the early ’80s the yard could find virtually no work for men skilled in the craft of wooden shipbuilding—formerly the elite of the workforce. After Virginia and the other vessels had been turned into stacks of wood, those who had done the work were sent home.
Now let us look ahead some three decades to 1917, by which time we find a yard dramatically transformed. Eleven wharves described a great arc at the confluence of the Charles and Mystic Rivers. The familiar old shiphouses had been replaced by a large shipbuilding ways and steel plate storage yards. The timber basin that had long dominated the center of the yard was gone, replaced by a new dry dock twice as long as the first one. The other timber basin at the east end of the yard had been filled in and was now the site of gas and oil tanks, a locomotive shed, and a gas plant for acetylene torches.
It was a vital place, showing an intensity not seen since the Civil War. In fact it was again a wartime yard: after almost three years of neutrality the United States had entered the global conflict that was later called World War I. Some 4,500 workers worked two ten-hour shifts or around the clock in three eight-hour shifts, answering to a steam whistle instead of the bell that had summoned 19th-century yard workers. The wharves and docks were crowded with three- and four-stacker steel ships, some carrying the towering cage masts that were a short-lived experiment of the period. On the building ways, workers had laid the keel of the fuel ship Brazos.
Electric lights illuminated the thousands of men working on ships through the night. Vessels under repair were alive with the flare of welding torches and the tattoo of pneumatic rivet guns. Over them moved the arms of great cranes, including a 150-ton floating derrick and a colossus that traveled on tracks between dry docks. Materials and equipment were transported by yard locomotives that had replaced the oxen (although horses still did service). A mechanized coaling plant near the old dry dock helped ease the dirty and arduous task of fueling ships. But it was apparently undependable, and at times ships were coaled the old way.
Charlestown’s main responsibility was repairing the warships of a greatly enlarged fleet: steel destroyers, armored cruisers and battleships, submarines, and wooden sub chasers. The yard also outfitted and commissioned new vessels, converted civilian vessels to wartime use, armed merchantmen, and altered seized German passenger liners to transport U.S. troops to France.
More work came to the yard in 1917-18 than in any other comparable period in its history before World War II. Some 450 vessels were serviced during those two years. In addition Charlestown was a supply depot and embarkation point. In all, an average of 50 ships a day arrived at or departed from the yard during the war.
By 1918 some 10,000 skilled workers, laborers, and clericals worked at Charlestown. Reflecting the growth of the labor movement over the last three decades, many of them belonged to trade unions (although they could neither strike nor be represented by the unions in wage negotiations). Women working at the yard were mostly naval yeomen, but a few worked as radio and telephone operators, radio electricians, and ropewalk machine tenders.