grandpa phil marton’s career as a merchant marine officer

Recently I received an email request from my old school, the California Maritime Academy, asking me to send updated information about myself for the new edition of the school directory of graduates, which will be published soon. I updated my information as requested, but instead of sending a writeup about my own activities, I thought it would be good to dedicate that space to my dad, Tommy’s granpa Phil Marton, who was also a graduate of CMA (and also grandpa of my nieces Patience and Maureen and my nephew Phillip). Below are the writeup and photo I sent for the CMA directory:

Most of my academy classmates never knew that my dad, Phil Marton, was a CMA grad like myself. He died in 1957, when I was 8 years old, so I wasn’t aware as a child of the exact details of his career as a merchant marine officer. I’ve done some research, and talked to some of his classmates over the years, so I’d like to dedicate this space mainly to my dad’s memory. 

Phil Marton’s CMA diploma. He graduated on January 10, 1942 at age 20 and just one month after the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Phil Marton graduated from CMA in January of 1942, shortly after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and just before his 21st birthday. His first ship was the Matson passenger ship Lurline, which had been converted to carry troops, initially to Australia. My dad sailed throughout World War II on a variety of ships. I found his name on a crew list for the T2 tanker SS Quebec, for example, where he signed on in 1944 as first assistant engineer at age 23. 

Tommy’s granpa, Phil Marton, in approximately 1945

Shortly after World War II ended, my dad “swallowed the anchor”, left his seagoing career behind, and went to work as a plumber for the Pangborn company in Los Angeles. He stayed at that job until his untimely death in 1957, of a brain aneurism. 

I’m very proud of my dad’s service in the merchant marine in World War II, during which time he was consistently in harm’s way in what was truly the most dangerous branch of the armed forces during that war. 

In light of my dad’s seagoing career, my own career at sea is ironic in a couple of ways. First of all, I chose to become a “deckie” instead of an engineer, a transgression that I hope my dad has forgiven, wherever he may be. Secondly, I actually spent many more years at sea than my dad, 24 years total, before going back to school and becoming a teacher.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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