JOSEPH W. GRAEME, LT, USN
Joseph Graeme '97
Joseph Wright Graeme was admitted to the Naval Academy from Pennsylvania on September 6, 1893 at age 18 years 0 months.
Lucky Bag
From the 1897 Lucky Bag:
Graeme, Joseph Wright
Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania
"Joe"
Chairman Committees on Class Colors and Class Ring; Medal for Mile run; Lucky Bag Committee, '94 '95; Editor-in-Chief, '97 Lucky Bag; U. S. N. A. Crew, '96.
Graeme, Joseph Wright
Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania
"Joe"
Chairman Committees on Class Colors and Class Ring; Medal for Mile run; Lucky Bag Committee, '94 '95; Editor-in-Chief, '97 Lucky Bag; U. S. N. A. Crew, '96.
Loss
Joseph was lost on April 14, 1906 when the gunpowder from a 13" gun aboard Kearsarge (Battleship No. 5) ignited accidentally, killing another officer and eight men. He was aboard as a "gun umpire;" his permanent station was Maryland (Armored Cruiser No. 8).
Other Information
From researcher Kathy Franz:
n March 1893, Joseph had typhoid pneumonia.
He was appointed to the Naval Academy by the Hon. W. H. Hines. His specialties at the academy were history, mechanical drawing, efficiency and seamanship. He was editor-in-chief of the “Lucky Bag.” He was on the crew team and won first medal for the mile race in the field and track competition of 1895.
In May 1899, he was detached from the Iowa. He went to the torpedo station at the Naval Academy at Newport, Rhode Island, to take an advanced course in electricity.
In October 1899, Joseph participated in the Dewey celebration in Washington, D. C., and his parents were there to watch.
In February 1900, he arrived in Manila on the steamer Marietta. He had malaria in the Philippine Islands in August of that year. He next served on the U. S. monitor Monterey in China waters. Joseph purchased a sword of a Chinese executioner and donated it to the Wyoming Historical and Geological society. The sword was said to have cut off more than a thousand heads.
On January 17, 1903, he married Ethel Robinson at Calvary Church in New York City. He was then attached to the Ordnance Department in Washington, D. C. In October, he had a successful appendectomy operation. Their daughter Alice was born in 1904.
In April 1905, Joseph was ordered to the cruiser Maryland.
His father Thomas was an attorney. His maternal grandfather was Hon. Hendrick B. Wright who served in the House of Representative in Pennsylvania for over 30 years.
From the Wilkes-Barre Times Leader, Pennsylvania, July 13, 1898:
Thomas Graeme, of this city, Tuesday morning received the following letter from his son, Joseph Wright Graeme, who is a cadet on board the battleship Iowa:
Off Santiago de Cuba, July 3, 1898:
The day opened clear and bright, not a cloud in the sky and a fine breeze blowing – a ideal Sunday morning. I was on the bridge with Lieut. Scheutze as three bells had just gone and the men were forming at quarters for Sunday inspection when he (Lieut. S.) said: “What is that coming out of the harbor? Let's have your glasses.”
He took my Christmas present binoculars and the instant he got them to his eyes exclaimed: “There's a Spanish ship coming out of the harbor.”
Murtin (who is signal officer) at once sang out:
“Hoist No. ---,” (the signal agreed upon.)
The quartermaster sounded the general alarm and Lieut. Hill, who had the deck, ran to a six-pounder and fired it at the enemy for an alarm gun. The effect was electrical. The men left their quarters at a run, cheering and throwing their caps up in the air, yelling, “The Spaniards are coming out, boys. Hurray!” The guns were manned instantly. I looked through my glasses at the enemy a second after Lieut. Scheutze. A splendid big dark-colored cruiser flying a very large Spanish flag, was coming out past Morro at full speed, the white spray flying from her cut-water. I jumped to my turret and saw everything ready in a hurry. The guns are always kept leaded and it did not take ten seconds to prime them. The Spanish ships came out in the following order, as we afterward learned from Vizcaya's officers: Infanta Maria Teresa (flagship), Vizcaya, Cristobal Colon, Oquendo and the torpedo boat destroyers Pluton and Furor. The Iowa was headed in toward Morro at about 6,000 yards distance. The Spanish vessels all headed to the westward and before we had turned to follow them I got in three shots at the Vizcaya, I think. One of the cadets said he saw one of my shots land right on the Vizcaya's forecastle and burst. This was the only shooting I did in the action as our starboard side was toward the enemy all the rest of the time. Our heavy guns began firing within two minutes after the first alarm and you should have heard the racket they made! Twelve-inch and 8-inch guns went off every few seconds with terrific roars, and the intervals were filled in with the boom of 4-inch and the incessant crack, bang, whang of six-pounders. The enemy's shells came over us in showers, the big one making a “shoo, choo” or “ripping sirk sound,” and the smaller ones whistling and screaming. The smoke was almost impenetrable – thick, heavy, and of a pale yellow color, it overhung and enshrouded everything, making it difficult to see the enemy. I saw the Texas on our port hand and beyond her the Brooklyn. The Oregon was to the eastward of us, but she passed astern of us and headed in towards the enemy.
(Here was inserted a diagram.)
When the first ship came out she fired an 11 inch shell at us which passed just over the bridges from port bow to starboard quarter and struck the water near the quarter deck. If it had struck us the effect would have been terrific as it was a raking shot. But it didn't. The enemy fired a great deal of chrapnel at us and the whistling of the rifle balls as the shell burst could be heard plainly. The two destroyers followed the Oquendo out and they met with a warm reception, I can tell you. We were only 2,200 yards from the ships and even closer to the destroyers. One of our 12 inch shells struck the Pluton on the port quarter and her after part at once blew up, the cloud of steam and splinters going high in the air. Just previous to this both boats turned as if to re-enter the harbor but their fate was sealed. The Pluton drifted helplessly on the beach, a flaming mass and the Furor was riddled by 6 pounders and by shots from the Gloucester, which ran toward them at full speed, firing with great rapidity. The two wrecks of the destroyers are on the beach about three miles west of Morro. The smoke stack of the Pluto is above water. All this time a running fight was being kept up with the cruisers. Our 12 inch and 8 inch shells hulled them with splendid effect and the lighter guns made their sides look like pepper boxes. The Maria Teresa and the Oquendo were seen to be on fire in about twenty minutes from the beginning of the action. They headed toward the shore and were on the beach in thirty-four minutes from the firing of the first gun, complete wrecks, burning fiercely, the Spaniards swimming ashore on gratings, ladders and on other wreckage.
The Oregon was with us but she and the Texas and Brooklyn devoted themselves principally to the Colon and Vizcaya. We at once set out at full speed after these two ships, the status of affairs being as follows . . . (diagram) . . . The Oregon and the Brooklyn kept up a hot fire at the two fleeing Spaniards and the Texas fired an occasional long range shot. We were too far astern to fire at them but we began to gain slowly on the Vizcaya. Our first action lasted fifty-four minutes and it seemed that we were to have another taste of battle so the men were sent to their guns again. However, it was not to be, for the Vizcaya put her helm hard aport and headed in for the beach in a sinking condition. She was also on fire. Two heavy shells had hit us on the starboard bow forward of the armor. The water tight doors had all been closed at the beginning of the action so the leak was not serious. We let the others ships chase the Colon and we turned in toward the Vizcaya. We left our guns and the word, “Out all boats!” was passed. While we were thus employed the New York came up astern, steaming four bells. The men felt so happy, it was almost impossible to keep them quiet. They yelled and shouted in hysterical glee. They had licked the Dons. It seemed too good to be true. The bugler sounded for “silence” and the men crowded for the starboard side and waited for the flagship to pass. What a fine looking lot of fellows they were. Many were stripped to the waist, grimy with powder and shiny with sweat from the tremendous exertion in the burning heat of the turrets. There were engineers and firemen who had rushed up from below, their faces black with the oily dirt of the engines and the coal dust. Every one of them had a smile on his face a yard long, and seemed as if he could burst with enthusiasm and joy. When the New York passed us, Captain Evans sang out: “Three cheers for the Admiral!” I never heard three such cheers in my life. The very heavens echoed the inspiring shouts. The New York's men manned the rail and returned the salute. Our cheers will not be equalled in many a year for they were born of a victory whose like will not come soon again. The flagship passed on in chase of the Cristobal Colon. We now continued hoisting our boat and a cutter and whaleboat soon got away.
I slid down a rope into the steam launch and was soon off for the Vizcaya, towing a cutter (Mr. Hepburn in charge of it.) We were about three miles from the wreck, so I had a good chance to look at it before we got to work. She lay with her bow about Northeast, just touching bottom, for only a foot or so of her boot-topping showed fiercely inside the superstructure and the after ports were red with flames. While we were near the main mast fell with a crash, the large military top falling across the after 11-inch barbette. The guns were popping as the fire reached them; the shells whistling about over our heads and by the sharp crack or sullen boom I judge we had a sample shot from every piece of ordnance in the ship. Every minute or so the fire would reach a box of rapid-fire ammunition and an explosion very like a “flower-pot” would occur, thin, feathery trails of smoke, shooting far heavenward in a dozen different directions. While we were some distance off even from the Iowa one could see the men going down the side on ropes and swimming ashore in little groups. Our first boats took men right from the ship's side, while some hung on to ropes and refused to let go, fearing they would drown. Several had to be pulled away by main force. We had three boats at work when I got there and the United States yacht “Hist” had two small skiffs employed in the rescue. I headed for the bow and could see no one on board, and anyway it was at this time too hot for a human being to live aboard her. The ship was a crackling mass of flames. I saw a great, gaping shot-hole in the forward barbette and a good many shreds of clothing about the bridges and forecastle. The paint, (a dark green) was beginning to peel off the ship and show a dirty yellow side – the color of the hot steel. It was sad indeed to look at a fine ship in her death-throes but I did not stop an instant as there was much to be done. On a reef between the Vizcaya and the beach were a dozen or so of naked men up to their waists in water. As I was afraid of going ashore in the launch I cast off Hepburn's cutter and left him to pick those up while I went on towards others to the westward. There were men swimming, some with and some without life-preservers, men clinging to wreckage singly and in groups, and nearly all were yelling to me to come to them. We went along from one man to the other and cast lines to them, hauling them on board. Many were nearly exhausted when we reached them. They were all as naked as the day that they were born. I picked up one lot of four men, one of whom had on a violet-colored undershirt. As soon as we hauled him into the boat he offered me five gold pieces. I thought he wished to reward me so I motioned that I would not take them, but he pressed them upon me and I understood that he wished me to keep them for him lest some of the sailors should steal them.
He told me he was Lieutenant de Vaisseau. As he could not speak a word of French or English and my Spanish is limited, we did not talk much. I picked up twenty-two men and these with the boat's crew made a heavy load for the little launch. Luckily there was but little sea running, only a heavy ground swell. I could see more men in the water farther out but I could not take them, so I started over to Mr. Twining's cutter to ask him to go for them. The launch's water had almost given out, so while Mr. Twining went to pick up the men I steamed back to the Hist. … the officer of the deck said they had no doctor aboard and asked me to take two wounded men they had picked up to the Iowa. I got the two wounded chaps in the boat and steamed back for the cutter. On the way the wounded men called for “agua,” “agua” (water) and I gave them some I got from the Hist and fixed them up as well as I could. One shook my hand and showed his gratitude by his eyes as he had no other means. Both men had tourniquets of rubber hose on their arms, so they were safe temporarily. When I reached the cutter Mr. Twining hailed me: “I have three dead men on the boat and no more room. Go over there and get a dead man that's floating there and come back and pick me up.” I steamed to where he indicated and after some trouble succeeded in getting the man aboard. He was floating face down his knees partly drawn up. The men were squeamish about handling him, so I had to help haul him in to show them there was nothing to be afraid of. His mouth was frothy and his eyes glassy but I worked him for some time, trying to restore respiration, but without success. He was done for. After a long steam back we arrived at the ship, where we hoisted the dead aboard and laid them aft, covered with the Spanish flag. One of the wounded died soon after he got aboard. He was from one of the other boats, so there were five dead under the flag. The rescued men were fitted out with canvas suits as soon as possible and we gave the officers some of our blouses, etc., to help out. Some of the officers got off in a boat that came over to the ship. The captain, however, was picked up by our first cutter. As he neared our gangway he looked back at his burning ship, once so proud and so strong and now a wreck, and taking off his cap he waved it sadly toward the ship in a last salute, murmuring: “Ah, Vizcaya, Vizcaya!” with great feeling. He was wounded in the head and had a large bandage over his forehead. He came up the side and as his foot touched the deck he doffed his cap and mutely offered his sword to Captain Evans. The captain said: No, he could not take it from such a brave man, and he was taken to the cabin and treated with the greatest consideration.
He is buried in Pennsylvania and was survived by his wife and daughter.
Obituary
From the Wilkes Barre Times on April 16, 1906:
Lieutenant Graeme had a brilliant record. He was born on August 14, 1875, and graduated from the Harry Hillman Academy in 1893. He tried that summer the competitive examination for the United States Navy, winning over a large number of competitors. He entered Annapolis in the fall of 1893, and his class was graduated a year ahead of time—early in 1898—on account of the Spanish-American War. Ensign Graeme served on the Iowa during that war. His ship was under command of “Fighting Bob” Evans and attached to Admiral Sampson's squadron. When Cercera’s squadron came out of the harbor that eventful Sunday Ensign Graeme of the Iowa discovered the movement and gave the alarm which presaged the battle. In that fight Ensign Graeme was in command of the forward port turret of the Iowa. He saw nearly three years of service afterward in the Philippines.
On his return from the Philippines late in the summer of 1902 he received his promotion as lieutenant, junior grade. On Jan. 15, 1903, he was married to Miss Ethel Robinson, of New York, daughter of James A. Robinson. One child, a daughter, aged two and a half years, with the young wife and mother, survives. The latter is now with relatives in Englewood, N. J.
Lieut. Graeme's tour of duty on shore was passed mostly in Washington, where he was engaged in the experiment station of the navy yard. He contrived several important gunnery inventions which have since been put in use in the United States Navy and patent rights have been issued in foreign countries. Owing to his great promise in the field of theoretical and practical gunnery he was retained on shore duty far beyond his term, and when he finally returned to sea it was on the new cruiser Maryland. He visited here but once since marriage, on Labor Day of 1905. The remains will be brought North by the Maryland about the 22d of April.
Career
From Army-Navy-Air Force Register and Defense Times, Volume 39:
Lieutenant Joseph W. Graeme was appointed a naval cadet at Annapolis in September, 1893. He reached the grade of ensign in July, 1899, and has since reached his present rank. He served at the Washington Navy Yard from November, 1902 until April, 1905, when he was sent to the Maryland.
Other
Joseph was cited several times in a 1905 "Text-Book of Ordnance and Gunnery".
The "Register of Commissioned and Warrant Officers of the United States Navy and Marine Corps" was published annually from 1815 through at least the 1970s; it provided rank, command or station, and occasionally billet until the beginning of World War II when command/station was no longer included. Scanned copies were reviewed and data entered from the mid-1840s through 1922, when more-frequent Navy Directories were available.
The Navy Directory was a publication that provided information on the command, billet, and rank of every active and retired naval officer. Single editions have been found online from January 1915 and March 1918, and then from three to six editions per year from 1923 through 1940; the final edition is from April 1941.
The entries in both series of documents are sometimes cryptic and confusing. They are often inconsistent, even within an edition, with the name of commands; this is especially true for aviation squadrons in the 1920s and early 1930s.
Alumni listed at the same command may or may not have had significant interactions; they could have shared a stateroom or workspace, stood many hours of watch together… or, especially at the larger commands, they might not have known each other at all. The information provides the opportunity to draw connections that are otherwise invisible, though, and gives a fuller view of the professional experiences of these alumni in Memorial Hall.
January 1898
January 1899
January 1900
January 1901
January 1902
January 1903
January 1904
Memorial
Joseph's classmates erected a plaque in Memorial Hall to his honor.
Related Articles
John Hudgins '94 was also lost in this incident.
The "category" links below lead to lists of related Honorees; use them to explore further the service and sacrifice of alumni in Memorial Hall.
