ABSTRACT
We began our shakedown (or perhaps it should have been called “shake up”) cruise almost at once. When we seemed prepared to travel the great Pacific, we headed for San Francisco.
We anchored in the Bay near the Oakland Bridge, the sun shining brightly and a cool wind blowing. It was a Friday afternoon, and I asked the Executive Officer if I could be taken ashore to hear the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra. He was so astonished that a radioman wanted to hear a symphony that he arranged for a boat. During intermission, the eightyish little lady sitting next to me turned and asked me in a quivering voice where I had been. “A place you’ve never heard of,” I said. “Yakutat, Alaska.” She replied, “Indeed I’ve heard of Yakutat. Fifty years ago I hunted bear there for the Smithsonian Institution.”
