The Osprey: A Labor of Love

By Sheldon Teitelbaum. Photographs by Irene Fertik.

Donald Trump would not have given her a second look. And she would certainly never have appeared on “The Love Boat”—not even as an extra. To the unappreciative eye, the Osprey—a 220-foot tuna clipper USC is converting into a seafaring research vessel—looks like a rust-bucket.

But for the scientists who hope to set sail on her within the year, the Osprey is a piece of heaven—a vessel whose gracious lines, curves and other options will, once she is overhauled, make her the queen of the University National Oceanographic Laboratory System fleet and the flagship of USC’s marine sciences program.

UNOLS is an association of academic oceanographic laboratories which grew out of a 1969 congressionally commissioned report aimed at re-evaluating the direction of overall marine science efforts in this country. A joint effort by the U.S. academic community and oceanographic research facilities, UNOLS operates some 25 seagoing research vessels. Seventeen member institutions maintain their own vessels, while another 31 are associate members, using UNOLS resources on a recurrent basis.

The Osprey, says Donald Keach, interim director of USC’s Hancock Institute for Marine Studies, not only will be one of the largest vessels in the UNOLS academic fleet—she also will be among the most capable, seaworthy and comfortable.

And her conversion, which would have cost upward of $10 million at a modern shipyard, is being accomplished in-house at USC’s Fish Harbor Marine Laboratory on Terminal Island for a third of that.

Robert Douglas, dean of natural sciences and mathematics in the College of Letters, Arts and Sciences, says he views the Osprey refit— and the eventual appointment of a permanent director at HIMS—as integral to USC’s continued commitment to firstrate oceanographic research.

The Hancock Institute, which is responsible for marine studies programs and facilities at USC, is a new organization formed by the recent combination of two previous institutes at USC— the Hancock Foundation and the Institute for Marine and Coastal Studies.

USC first moved into marine studies in 1910 by setting up a biological station in Venice, California, to monitor pollution problems in nearshore waters. Marine research has since diversified considerably at USC, and IMCS was formed in 1975 to bring together much of that work. Its staff includes biologists, geologists, social policy analysts and legal experts, many of whom rely extensively on the institute’s oceangoing capability and on USC’s Catalina Marine Science Center, the largest offshore marine research facility in California.

Before acquiring the Osprey, once the pride of the Ralston Purina fishing fleet, the institute operated another vessel—the Velero IV.

The Velero IV was also built on a tuna-clipper hull. Completed in 1948 by Captain G. Allan Hancock, who for years was one of the University’s premier benefactors, she ran 110 feet from stem to stern, displaced 300 tons, and clipped through the sea at eight knots. The Velero III before her was also used in marine studies at USC.

The Velero IV had been built specifically for marine research and, indeed, she provided good service for 38 years. But in 1982, the National Science Foundation, which funds the operations of the UNOLS fleet, told the institute that the Velero IV's day was past.

She was, they said, too slow, rolled like a bowling ball in a 10-foot gutter, lacked room for more than a handful of researchers, couldn’t carry enough equipment and was bereft of a power supply up to the demands of modern research. It was simply no longer economical to keep her running.

The NSF offered a grant to cover the search for a replacement. The institute arranged the sale of the Velero IV to a Seattle operation which ultimately spent some $600,000 reconverting her into a fishing vessel.

The next step, following input from the regional science community, which also had used the Velero IV, was to launch a nationwide hunt for a secondhand ship (since a new research vessel could, in today’s market, cost up to $35 million). It was an opportune time to buy a secondhand vessel because the tuna market had virtually collapsed, interest rates were soaring, and fishing companies such as Ralston Purina were trying to unload sizable segments of their fleets.

The Osprey had been built in 1973 and had put in some seven years of service, By most standards she was spanking new. She was also twice the size of her predecessor, which made justifying the purchase a challenge.

But in most respects, the Osprey sold herself. She had a high cruising speed—up to 16 knots— her fuel consumption was inordinately low, and her fuel capacity gave her long legs. Indeed, at 8 knots the Osprey could sail around the world twice without having to refuel.

What made her ideal for marine research purposes, however, was the huge amount of space that could be made available for researchers, labs, storage and accommodations.

With her fishing gear stripped and her decks refashioned, the Osprey could provide enough deck space to accommodate any heavy or bulky equipment a researcher might care to bring, as well as submersibles and other oceangoing small craft. And there would be plenty of room left over to fit her deck with a large laboratory, so that scientists could conduct their research close to where they deployed and retrieved their equipment.

Moreover, the Osprey came furnished with 16 fish wells. Each of these chambers could, once their refrigeration units were stripped, provide 14 square feet of additional storage or lab space.

The scientific community also approved of the Osprey's hull design. Her bulbous bow gave her additional stability and added a knot to her cruising speed.

In addition, the Osprey’s hull came equipped with a feature widely used by the tuna fleet but virtually unheard of in the academic flotilla—a flume system. This is a large, baffled tank partially filled with water which is designed to reduce roll by about 50 percent.

Ralston Purina’s initial asking price for the Osprey was $2.5 million. The University, through extended negotiations, obtained the vessel for $500,000. It was a steal, especially since the cost of the vessel, including its subsequent conversion, could be recouped from the government through its annual grants for operation and maintenance. The deal was presented to the USC Board of Trustees and approved.

USC acquired the Osprey in 1984 and berthed her at its facility in Fish Harbor on Terminal Island. The cost of converting her was estimated at $3.5 million, and it was thought that the money could be raised and the job completed within a year and a half.

Unfortunately, some $2 million in key NSF funding that had been lined up to pay for the overhaul suddenly disappeared, mainly because NSF found itself strapped for funds to keep the rest of the academic fleet afloat. Consequently, the institute found itself burdened with the task of slowly lining up money and slowly funneling it into the vessel.

The Osprey’s situation is, in fact, a peculiar one. Until she is made seaworthy, she cannot expect one cent in federal funding. Once she is fit for the open seas, however, the NSF will, for the duration of her life, provide for her upkeep. It will even pay for improvements made over the years.

By the time the Velero IV was pulled from service, for instance, she had been outfitted with every bell and whistle in the business. Although her successor, the Osprey, will first go to sea with only four of her 16 fish wells converted, it is hoped that the remaining wells will, with NSF support, be converted for space over the years to meet emerging scientific requirements. But until she is made seaworthy, the NSF is unable to provide substantial support.

For Don Newman, 37-year-old manager of USC’s Marine Support Center at Fish Harbor, the resulting delay in outfitting the Osprey has been particularly frustrating.

The facility’s mandate is to provide physical support to marine science research undertaken by USC or a number of affiliate universities.

In addition to providing physical support to the vessels docked at her berths, the center houses a fully equipped marine research laboratory that serves as the base for a number of harbor-related projects. A special running seawater system provides water for research in fish larval development and pollution control work, among other areas. Samples collected at USC’s Marine Science Center on Catalina Island are sometimes transported to and held at Fish Harbor for further study or shipment to the University Park campus.

Newman, who has a certificate in oceanographic technology from Fullerton College and a degree in business from USC, has been working for the University for 15 years.

“I'm here for the science,” he says. “‘I like organizing cruises, giving the researchers what they want, getting them to where they're going and getting them back. Until the Osprey is ready, though, that part of my job has to remain on hold.”

Not that Newman is at a loss for things to do. The Marine Support Center, much like the Marine Science Center USC operates on Catalina Island, is a regional resource. It provides a number of other universities and institutions with vital support services, such as vessel upkeep and outfitting as well as seaside lab space.

By permitting the use of these facilities by other institutions, USC helps generate the funding required to maintain them. Because of governmental support, prorated payments by such participating institutions as UCLA, UC Santa Cruz and UC Santa Barbara, and the support of the USC Oceanographic Associates, these firstrate facilities cost the University relatively little.

Newman's operation involves a full-time complement of 18 people, five of whom work exclusively on revamping the Osprey. Newman pays them somewhat lower wages than they might earn at a shipyard. But they stay on, he says, because the Osprey has become a labor of love. “And because I don’t work them to death.” Meanwhile, Newman avoids paying a commercial shipyard’s overhead. This results in savings, he says, of about 80 percent. And because he can keep an eye on every aspect of construction, Newman is not worried about shoddy workmanship. His people stringently follow American Bureau of Shipping construction standards and procedures, There are none better, nor more demanding.

A tour of the Osprey at this juncture can be deceiving. Her hull and deck plating are rusty. A huge generator lies sprawled out on deck. The lab area on the port side of the main deck isn’t much to look at.

Below decks, it’s more of the same. The cabins are sizable but tawdry. The floors need recarpeting. Sick bay is an empty shell. The fish wells, gutted of their endless miles of refrigeration tubing, look like stark, empty metal chambers.

The main head, or bathroom, however, is a sight that would bring a tear to an old sea dog’s eye. It can accommodate four at a time, and the shower is almost as big as a crewman’s cabin on a lesser vessel.

Where it counts, though, the Osprey is already a beauty. Two and a half million dollars worth of work has gone into her, and she is a scant million away from completion.

During the last four years Newman's team has accomplished much. The main engine and three auxiliaries have been completely overhauled, at a cost of some $147,000. A slow-speed water-jet propulsion system, which can be used in lieu of the main engine for slow-speed operations, is on order. The bridge is in fine fettle. The main deck has been replated and extended. An A-frame capable of lifting 40 tons and costing tens of thousands of dollars has been fitted over the stern. A telescopic crane has been purchased and installed. The tall mast, hitherto used for tuna spotting, has been removed and will be replaced by a new, more useful design.

During the next six months, Newman hopes to upgrade the accommodations, install an airconditioning system and sewer plant, fit the ship with a water-making plant and an emergency generator, and upgrade the bridge’s telecommunications system to provide instant telemetry, facsimile capabilities and access to computerized data bases.

“It wouldn’t take much to make her presentable cosmetically,” says Newman. “What looks like rust is really brand new sheet metal plating with the cleanest welds you ever saw. My foreman, who does the welding, chooses particular hours in the day to make his seams in order to avoid undue heat stresses.”

In fact, with sandblasting and a paint job, the Osprey would gleam. “But that is putting the cart before the horse,” says Newman.

Newman was a newcomer to shipbuilding when the Osprey became his charge. And he had reservations about her suitability, mainly because of her size. But he has since experienced a turnabout in his appraisal.

“She is truly a magnificent vessel,” he says. “And she is a multidisciplinary vessel. We got input from everybody—geologists, biologists, physical oceanographers—before we settled on a plan to refit her. We averaged it out and came up with the best possible plan with the least number of compromises.”

Patrick artney, the Hancock Institute’s director of administration and interim director Keach’s second-incommand, says that to the extent possible, the Osprey has been refitted with an eye toward the future demands of oceanographic research.

“Some trends are obvious,” he says. “For instance, equipment is always improving, but it is also getting bulkier. Platform space is therefore going to be extremely important, and I think it’s one of the reasons why the Osprey should endure well into the first decades of the next century.”

Sea trials for the Osprey are being planned for early 1989. Once she is deemed seaworthy, the scientific schedule will begin. Operating a vessel this size—even one as economical as the Osprey—can cost between $7,000 and $12,000 a day. No one institution could put her to use for the 250 days a year she would have to operate to be self-sufficient. Indeed, it is unlikely that she will find herself at sea for more than 100 days the first year. But NSF can live with this arrangement. And so can USC. The benefits to the University of operating a vessel the likes of the Osprey are dramatic.

Ostensibly, says Keach, the government views all university marine science programs with equal regard.

“But,” he says, “programs with ships — especially first class vessels like the Osprey—are more equal than the rest.”

Don Newman on deck: Where it counts, the Osprey is already a beauty.