chance to view the navy and its midshipmen objectively.
Hart began to look for ways to give his charges a more “military appearance.” One improvement, he wrote in a memorandum, would be “to make the collars higher, according to the length of the individual’s neck, coming close up under the chin . . .” The plebes, he continued, “generally get their first collars much too large, giving them an ungainly appearance, as young men of that age are inclined to have long thin necks which appear at their worst in loose low collars.” He also wanted their uniforms to be better tailored, because he believed that pride and performance would be more likely in a midshipman who looked sharp.7
Although Brownson liked Hart well enough to object when his reassignment was being considered, he did not give him exceptionally high fitness reports. It is easy to imagine that the superintendent was a hard grader, so perhaps the fact that he gave Hart many “very good,” rather than “excellent,” evaluations should not be taken too seriously. On the other hand, as we shall see, Brownson had some reservations about Hart, at least for some assignments.
When he had been at the academy almost two years an emergency arose which required Hart’s detachment for service in the new battleship Missouri. One of her gun turrets had exploded, killing two officers; Hart was sent as one of the replacements, a duty that, under the circumstances, could hardly be approached optimistically. Yet working with modern gunnery in a practical way allowed him to apply what he had written in his textbook. This was the beginning of his specialization in ordnance, an area in which, in one way or another, he spent much of his career. But hardly had he settled in the Missouri when another emergency, this one mingled with a measure of luck—a factor Hart came to feel was intimately involved in his career—called for his detachment elsewhere. The destroyer Lawrence needed a new skipper, and on very short notice.
So, in December 1905 at age twenty-eight he got his first command. The Lawrence was small and by the standards of the day quite fast. Furthermore, instead of heavy guns, her primary armament was torpedoes. How ideal for a man who enjoyed seamanship and working with any type of complicated ordnance. Steaming hither and yon over the sea and doing it right gave him a sense of independence and of something else to which he always gave considerable emphasis—fun. He later contended that this command did more to mature him than anything since the Spanish-American War.8 In 1906 Lieutenant Commander E. A. Anderson, commander of his destroyer flotilla, wrote that Hart had brought the Lawrence’s torpedoes “to a very high state of efficiency” and had achieved a perfect score in autumn torpedo practice; overall, his performance was rated excellent.
Shortly after this report was made, there occurred something that on the surface, at least, appeared far from lucky. On 4 March 1907, the commander in chief of the Atlantic Fleet, Rear Admiral Robley “Fighting Bob” Evans, saw Hart lose his temper when addressing Lieutenant Commander Anderson. Hart did not approve of the way Anderson was handling the destroyers and after what he considered a display of bungled orders, he took it upon himself to tell Anderson what he thought. Admiral Evans investigated the incident and on 24 March 1907 recommended that Hart be removed from command of the Lawrence and a letter of admonition entered in his record. Hart accepted this judgment at the time although he later protested to Admiral Evans that his conduct, though disrespectful, was understandable and even proper under the circumstances. From this distance of time it is not possible to judge fairly Hart’s contention, or even all the details. What we do know is that by 1909 Evans had changed his mind, or at least had come to see the merit in Hart’s contention, and requested that his letter of admonition be removed from Hart’s service record.9
In view of Hart’s assignment after leaving the Lawrence, it is obvious that his conduct had not earned him universal condemnation. There was a vacant billet, previously filled by a rear admiral, at the Bureau of Ordnance. Since they wanted a young officer with experience and promise as a replacement, the job went to Lieutenant Hart. This was a real feather in his cap and, as he later admitted, it got his “head up” above his peers.10 Much experimentation and modernization was going on in the bureau at this time, so Hart’s practical experience was quickly applied. He liked the work and soon convinced his superiors they had made a good choice. Rear Admiral Newton E. Mason, chief of bureau, found him “especially loyal and subordinate”—so Hart was learning—as well as “extremely conscientious and painstaking” in the performance of his duty. Working with explosives, shells as well as torpedoes, was demanding, but Hart, who had always done well in engineering subjects and physics, excelled. It looked as though, with enough luck, good could come even out of adversity.
During this tour in Washington, two worlds were to meet. Rear Admiral Brownson, who had served as commander of the Asiatic Fleet after leaving the Naval Academy, had been selected as chief of the Bureau of Navigation, one of the most prestigious billets in the U.S. Navy. This meant that the Brownson family would be living in Washington, and the admiral rented a large, gracious house at 1736 M Street. To this house came the cream of Washington society. After all, Brownson was a cousin of William Howard Taft, President Theodore Roosevelt’s secretary of war, as well as an intimate of such luminaries as Oliver Wendell Holmes, millionaire John R. McLean, and many of those influential Washington people known as “cave dwellers.” Furthermore, he knew well all the military figures of the day, both in this country and abroad. This wide range of friends guaranteed that his home would be a busy, gay place, a place where his daughter Caroline, now twenty-three, could savor a Washington season in the company of the most prominent members of the legislative, executive, judiciary, and social branches of government, for then, as now, there were really four branches. For her it was a “kaleidoscope of luncheons, teas, receptions, dinners, and balls.”11 There were Sunday luncheons at expansive estates on the outskirts of town, receptions at the embassies, at Rauchers, Demonets, and the new Willard Hotel, theater parties at the National, the Poli, or the Belasco, cruises on the Chesapeake Bay in official yachts, hunts with the Chevy Chase hounds followed by lavish entertainments at country estates.
Thomas Hart brought to this bubbling world of Washington an entirely different background from that of Caroline Brownson, yet he was as welcome in it as she; he was thirty and a bachelor. Unattached males, especially males in uniform, were in great demand; in fact, he was sometimes called upon to be an aide at White House parties. During the round of festivities in the fall of 1908 he spotted the girl who had caught his attention when he saw her dancing with a midshipman in Annapolis. Now, however, she had put up her hair; without hesitation he went after her. As he later admitted, it was pretty difficult, holding down a responsible position and courting at the same time. Often it meant dancing till dawn and reporting for duty with very little sleep; as he later said, “I don’t see how I lived.”
Not only did he live, he prospered. He was successful in the bureau, and there is no question that Caroline responded to the charms of the trim, handsome, mature officer. The difficulty was with her father. Some of the reasons for Brownson’s hesitance can only be guessed. Caroline, his youngest child, had become something of a playmate for the admiral; he could count on her for rides through Rock Creek Park, fishing expeditions in Canada, and even hunting trips. He may also have questioned the age difference between the two, and it is entirely possible that he did not consider Hart good enough for his daughter.
The admiral would not have had to be a snob to recognize that this young naval officer was not going to be able to maintain his daughter in the style to which she was accustomed. In addition to his naval pay, the Brownson family had a considerable fortune, as the way they lived implied. Hart had nothing, nor was there money or position in his background. There can be little question that the aristocratic Brownson put great stock in social amenities. It also will be recalled that Brownson did not give Hart the highest possible fitness reports when the lieutenant taught at the academy and he might even have remembered when Naval Cadet Hart was a member of the hell-raising “Coxey’s Army.” And navy channels had probably carried to Brownson’s ears word of the recent insubordination by the commanding officer of the Lawrence.
On
