Although this memory is now faded at the edges from much-loved handling, I remember the Tall Ships event that happened in the summer of 2002. I was entranced by the anachronism of these huge wooden boats bobbing gently by the dock. I said, more than once, “I want to do this!” The very understanding crew of the Tall Ship Unicorn let me peer into the mysterious darkness belowdecks as they explained that the sailors lived on board, full time, while sailing. My dad held my hand and told me that when I’m older, I could try it out, if I still wanted to. He took me out on a day sail, taking photos of me to commemorate the day. Today, I look at those pictures of that younger me, hands on a ship’s wheel, wind blowing my hair into knots, and I smile.

Eight years later, I was finally old enough, I joined some of my high school classmates in volunteering on a Flagship Niagara Saturday work party. I remember that day even more clearly. We were sanding and varnishing the berth deck, although in my head, I kept thinking, “Birth deck? That doesn’t make any sense . . . .” I spent that day keeping my mouth (mostly) shut and my ears open. Despite putting in a full day’s work on this project, by the time my mom picked me up, I was exhausted but excited. I told her right away, “I want to come back next week.”

That second week, we got a tour of the workshop where they showed us some of the massive sewing machines used to stitch leather and canvas. These machines, my mother had explained to me, were my father’s and were donated to the Flagship Niagara because they were such a niche and needed item.

I wish I could say that my dad told me how proud he was of me that day. But he’d died 7 years before, the year after we’d spent a hot summer’s day at the Tall Ships Festival.

I was not a troubled youth, but I was certainly “at risk” of that. I was a young teenager, raised by a single mom after the age of eight, with a younger brother, and all of the difficulties that poverty brings. My mom did a great job raising us, keeping us fed and in good clothes and shoes on a shoestring budget of $16,000 a year.

The odds certainly were not in my favor. And yet, those chilly Saturday work parties continued until the weather warmed, and I stuck with my new Saturday routine, waking up at the same time as on a school day, getting ready, and spending eight hours of my coveted weekend free-time doing maintenance on the Flagship Niagara. I remember noticing more and more where the Flagship showed up in the City of Erie logo, in postcards, and on t-shirts. The Niagara was everywhere! It brought me a warm feeling of community and responsibility to be reminded of the work I was doing.

By the time summer rolled around, I had already gone out sailing a few times, and was eagerly preparing for my first voyage to Put-in-Bay. After the first time out sailing on the water, which was a Coast Guard inspection sail, I’d truly fallen in love with sailing. For the first time, I was being valued by what I could do and not by how I looked. I didn’t have to worry about figuring out the right fashion or hairstyle or whether this was the wrong kind of backpack or pair of shoes to own. I was judged by my value as a fellow sailor.

I volunteered during my weekends through high school and sailed during the summers. My mom has reflected on that time, remarking, “It was incredible watching my kid find this new confidence, straightening up, and becoming not just a hard worker, but a talented one too.”

I used my experiences sailing to write college essays, secure jobs, and so much more. My time on that ship saved my life and transformed me. I remember at other Tall Ships events on the Great Lakes, the way that other sailors were impressed that this young teenager was a Niagara sailor, because in the Tall Ships community, Niagara carries a prestige for excellence, in maintenance, upkeep, sailing skills, presentation, knowledge, and much more.

Or at least, it did.

As I’ve absorbed the news of the last two years or so with regards to the Niagara, my heart has sunk. Watching the vessel go without a winter cover in January 2024, sit for months on end, and then as spring and summer came on . . . continue to sit.

The thing about ships is that they’re like sharks, if they stop moving, they die. We’ve seen that happen here in Erie with previous iterations of the Niagara, and those in the sailing community have seen it happen countless times with other vessels across all waterways. Ships are tools, they’re transportation, and they are meant to be used and maintained. A car sitting on the side of the road, tires slowly going flat, simply doesn’t work as a car.

So I was incredibly disheartened to hear of the plans the PHMCThe Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission (PHMC) is the state agency that stewards the U.S. Brig Niagara and Erie Maritime Museum. The PHMC is responsible for the collect... had for the Niagara. In the long term, sitting at a dock accumulating algae like dust on a knickknack, will do no one any good. It wasn’t until that very first time on board with the wind in the sails and the sound of water on the hull did I really fall in love with sailing. That first deck tour peaked my interest, but nothing could prepare me for the real thing.

Short term, it wasn’t hard to see that the simple fact of being a government entity would only hamper the PHMC in properly caring for the Niagara. PHMC didn’t have the legions of dedicated and faithful volunteers, some driving for hours just to do volunteer maintenance. In fact, volunteer hours are valued very highly, in terms of money alone, worth about $35 an hour currently. My eight hours every Saturday for about 20 weeks of the year would be worth $5,600 today, and that’s not including the dozens of volunteers I worked with on a weekly basis. It is incredibly rare to see that kind of passion and commitment from volunteers. But that’s far from the most unique thing about the FNL’s volunteers – their volunteers brought expertise.

The problem with tall ships is that they are not like anything else. They are a whole realm unto themselves, of terminology, of technique (from actual sailing to the niche needs for maintenance), and of needs. Most people have never even heard of a sword mat, but I can tell you from experience that they’re pretty important to a tall ship and have nothing to do with swords. That’s just one little example that I can remember after all these years. There’s no one who knows better how to care for a ship than the people who have been doing just that very thing for decades.

I know there’s a temptation to give in to “sunk cost fallacy” (pun mostly not intended). Sunk cost fallacy is the reluctance to leave a course of action after being on it for a while, even after the point when it’s very obviously the worse choice. I understand PHMC is probably feeling like they can’t capitulate, even now. That after this much time, there’s no way to fix this situation. Honestly, my own pride might have me thinking the same thing, were I in their shoes.

There’s something trainees are taught that has stuck with me after all this time: ship, shipmate, self. You put the needs of the ship first, then your shipmates, and then yourself. Secure the safety of the ship, support your shipmates, and then worry about personal needs, self. You’d be surprised how helpful that mentality is in so many situations. I can’t help but think of it now. We have to put the ship first. PHMC has demonstrated that they can’t, whether because of the nature of their status as a governmental agency or because they simply don’t have the knowledge.

I am now imploring them to mend the bridge with the Flagship Niagara League. And should they fail to do so expeditiously, I implore my lawmakers to do the fiscally and legally smart thing and remand operational oversight and control to the Flagship Niagara League.

The Flagship Niagara League has a wealth of volunteers, of fundraising avenues, and mostly importantly, expertise.

I have let some time pass since I first heard of the situation in January 2024, but it’s clear after all this time that the PHMC doesn’t have the manpower (they’ve hired help at taxpayer cost for work historically done mostly by volunteers, remember that $35 an hour that used to be saved by using those dedicated volunteers?), the expertise (they’ve struggled to find paid crew and even hired internationally when there are many experienced sailors who live within 15 minutes of the dock), and the element of timeliness (their position as a government entity ties their hands in too many ways, limiting access to timely funds, decision making, and more).

I want people across the generations to have access to the transformational power the Flagship Niagara provides and for her to fulfill her mission as an ambassador of Pennsylvania.

It’s clear that the PHMC doesn’t have the tools or means to let that happen. Let’s put her back in safe, knowledgeable hands. Ship, shipmate, self.