THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, June 2, 1994 TAG: 9406020462
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A14 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: By Tony Wharton, James Schultz, Mark Mobley and Jimmy Gnass
DATELINE: 940602 LENGTH: Long
With Handel's ``Water Music'' wafting from speakers outside, Willard Scott mugged for the cameras inside Nauticus. The ``Today'' show veteran gave Portsmouth an unexpected personal plug, and showed the local NBC affiliate crew how much weight he had lost.
{REST} Nauticus director Michael Bartlett walked over to a knot of staff members and said, ``How're we doing?''
``We're slammin','' public relations chief Jim Myers answered enthusiastically.
Outside, onlookers gaped in amazement at dozens of Colombian sailors standing high on the yardarms of the sailing ship Gloria and singing lustily as they glided by on the Elizabeth River.
Joseph Leafe looked around at the flawless weather and blue sky over the river, almost boyishly thrilled.
``It's beautiful. It's terrific,'' said the former mayor, who helped conceive the project eight years ago.
10 a.m. - ``Down by the waterside, down by the waterside,'' intoned the Rev. Joseph Green, Norfolk's vice mayor, to open the dedication ceremonies. ``Father, we write another chapter in the history of our city . . . We give you thanks for the water and all that has come from it.''
Flags snapped in a sharp breeze off the river. U.S. Senate hopeful Oliver North shook hands in the crowd, mere yards from the man he hopes to unseat, Sen. Charles ``Chuck'' Robb.
``I wish you fair winds and following seas,'' Robb said.
Gov. George Allen said, ``It's another star in our bright constellation.''
At 10:50 a.m., the replica sailing ship Godspeed startled everyone with a blasting cannon salute. Ten tugboats leaned on their horns for a noisy finale.
Nauticus was launched.
11:15 a.m. - An unfortunate misunderstanding marred the day for some invited guests. After the outdoor dedication, they walked to the front doors and waited to get in for free tours. Gov. Allen and a few others had just entered. But the doors did not open for them.
A young staff member finally came out and stepped up on a bench to be heard.
``Can I have your attention?'' he said. ``The invitations you have to the dedication do not entitle you to go inside.''
Grumbles in the crowd.
``We thought that was clear. If there was a misunderstanding, I'm sorry,'' he said.
``You can shoot me now, if you like.''
1:45 p.m. - Chesapeake residents John Brown, 65, and Laurel Trego, 67, swore they wouldn't come to Nauticus on opening day.
``We were sure it would be too crowded. But look at us,'' Trego said sheepishly. ``Here we are.''
They sat on the open deck outside and waited for the doors to open at 2 p.m. Both are Norfolk natives who retired to Chesapeake but still cheer their old town.
``I still love Norfolk,'' Brown said. ``I think Norfolk will always be a little step ahead of everyone else in this area.''
``Everything seems to be gelling now,'' Trego said. ``I think it's significant that Nauticus makes the most of Norfolk's best asset, the water. This is really smart.''
Also milling around outside when the doors opened were probably Nauticus' first international paying customers, Nicki Thompson, 30, and Adrian Kay, 31, two Londoners touring the United States. They were in Williamsburg when they saw a Nauticus a promotion in their hotel.
``It's just opening, so we thought, let's give it a go,'' Thompson said.
2 p.m. Tickets paid and taken, three members of the Dowd family from Long Island headed up the people mover. Along with grandmother Marilyn Bulin, a resident of Onancock on the Eastern Shore, mom Anita and sons Patrick and Shane were ready for some fun.
Shane Dowd rocked forward in his stroller as he hollered and he watched air-filled yellow submarines rocket up long, clear glass tubes. Anita angled the stroller so Shane could grab the red-bulb-tipped inflation handles.
``Make it go up,'' Anita urged. As the craft wobbled up a little, she added, ``Look at that! Look at that!.''
Five minutes into their visit, the Dowds were having a great time.
2:10 p.m. Rear Adm. Freddie Jeffries had a hard passage through the San Francisco Bay. He didn't run his ship aground, but there was too much play in the wheel for comfort.
Jeffries, commander of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration's East and Gulf Coast fleets, had decided to try his hand at interactive, computerized ship navigation.
``I reached my destination,'' Jeffries said. ``For someone who has commanded a real ship, this is a little harder than doing the real thing.''
2:20 p.m. 75-year-old Jim Marable remembers when the place where Nauticus now sits was home to half-empty, rat-infested warehouses. That was in his youth. It's better now.
Marable bought a season pass, and walks to Nauticus from Hague Towers, where he lives.
This official opening day marked his fourth trip, but he said he's only scratched the surface of The National Maritime Center.
``There's a lot I haven't seen,'' Marable said. ``It's very, very nice - first class. I'm enjoying every bit of it.''
2:30 p.m. Brett Pierson from West Bloomfield, Mich., began his flying career with high hopes. The 7-year-old couldn't wait to get his hands on the controls of the flight simulator outside the AEGIS Theater.
But Brett's plane was losing altitude and speed. A final lurch sent his hapless craft straight into the drink. A graphic representing the cockpit window cracked in a dozen places.
``Shoot!'' Brett cried. ``I hate this!''
3:05 p.m. - Nauticus was pretty full, and patterns had been established. Visitors seemed particularly drawn to the two touchpools.
Teresa, one of the green-shirted Nauticus ``crew,'' presided over the tank with the sea urchins, sea stars and anemones.
``Give him some support, don't squish him!'' she advised one child eagerly seizing a horseshoe crab.
Teresa continued a running commentary, advice, and orchestration with the aplomb of the master of a three-ring circus:
``Can you pass that sea star down this way?''
``Wait, let's pick up one that's not attached, OK?''
``No, don't take him out of the water!''
``You want to handle a rock? This rock?''
``Paper towels are over there!''
3:30 p.m. - In the darkened Nauticus Theater, ``The Living Sea'' wowed a packed house.
They laughed at the speeded-up boats in San Francisco Bay, gasped at the gargantuan waves crashing off the Pacific coast, ooohed the huge school of gentle jellyfish.
At the end, they applauded.
But none were ready for a simple, mechanical conjuror's trick: as the last frames showed the Elizabeth River, the screen rolled aside to show the actual river through the windows behind.
Many of those in the audience walked to the windows and the light suddenly pouring into the theater, and looked out over a river they had already seen, as if to make sure this wasn't an effect of the movie, too.
4:15 p.m. - A couple with three children, one of them old enough to require a separate ticket walked up to the now-deserted deck outside the ticket windows.
They looked at the ticket prices and debated for some minutes. They pointed to other places around downtown. Their little girl asked, ``Why aren't we going in?''
``Because that's $20 just for me and your dad,'' the mother answered. ``And it's another $7.50 for you.''
They walked around some more, and talked. And then he got his wallet out and they went.
4:30 p.m. - Afternoon visitors were met by six young women handing out coupon books and questionnaires.Sara Ross of Crown Heights, Brooklyn, shoved a ``The Good Card'' toward a visitor, a reminder from the Lubavitch Judaism World of Good Campaign to ``include more good deeds in your daily life.''
Ross, 17, and 75 girls from her high school were on a four-day trip. Their buses had hand-lettered signs bearing the number 1 (800) 4-MOSIACH, or messiah.
Ross moved a lot of cards: ``Everybody was very receptive to them.''
5:20. This show at the AEGIS Theater attracted only a half-dozen people. But the audience learned the pressures of today's don't-ask-don't-tell Navy.
The actors backstage obviously didn't know that their microphones were on. In the moments before the performance, the audience heard from backstage, in a pronounced, lisping voice, ``Ossifer! Ossifer! You know what you're going to say? Tactical information ossifer!''
Twenty minutes later, the enemy was vanquished with video projections, red lights and rumbling sound effects.
``Is that what goes on in the real world?'' Robin Melendez asked her husband, who was wearing his Navy uniform.
Winfrid Melendez said yes, though his role in battle is patching holes and putting out fires.
``We've been waiting to get in here for six months,'' the 25-year-old sailor said.
5:25 p.m. - ``PUSH THE SONAR BUTTON,'' commanded the computer screen in bold, shimmering letters. A distracted mother approaches the computer, pauses, and pushes the button.
It responded: ``PUSH THE BUTTON TO MAP THE OCEAN FLOOR.'' She followed orders, and several moments later a computer-animated ship appears with simulated high-tech radar squigglies, charting about an inch of ocean floor.
``DONG. . . dong. . . '' sounded the computer and then commanded: ``HIT IT AGAIN.''
The lady sighed in irritation and walked off.
6:45 - ``Stand clear!'' This sailor had pigtails.
``All stand clear!'' This one, braids.
``Going overboard!'' This one, a bun.
``You do that! I'm going to stand here and work the controls.'' The middle-school-aged girls frantically flipped every knob within reach on the bridge of the U.S.S. Preble.
``It's coming in!''
``Increasing!''
The tension eased.
``Let's go somewhere else.''
``Yeah, we already made it.''
``We already won the war.''
``Everybody knows they can't beat us.''
``We've done our job. We've served our country well.''
They walked out past two men surveying the equipment. Lt. Cmdr. Greg Trojan was explaining the communications devices to his cousin from Nebraska, Steve Oborny.
``This thing here is older than the hills,'' Trojan said. ``They call it a bitch box. But it's a reliable form of communication.'' Then he gestured out the window.
``That's the top of the line across the way there, the Arleigh Burke.''
9:50 p.m. - Hundreds gathered outside Nauticus for the nightly laser show. Music blared at concert volume as red, blue and green lasers made stick figures of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, various images in ``God Bless the U.S.A.'' and a superhero called Captain Nauticus.
Captain Nauticus spoke in the same even, tutorial tone of the films and computers inside the building he was named for: ``Humankind must recognize that Earth is primarily a water planet . . . This is the region that will lead the global economy in harnessing the power of the sea . . . Friends, tonight has been momentous. Thanks for sharing our mission.''
The laser show ended and fireworks began, the smoke and ash blowing back into the crowd. A cinder struck the forehead of Malachi, the German shepherd led by Navy diver John Froelich, who attended the show with his wife, Laura, and 16-month-old daughter, Rebekah.
``It was great,'' Froelich said. His favorite song was ``God Bless the U.S.A.'' ``I was expecting it for some reason but it was very impressive.''
{KEYWORDS} NAUTICUS OPENING DEDICATION
by CNB