By Brian Anderson
Valley Times

July 30, 2000

ALAMEDA — Alan McKean doesn't believe in ghosts.

But, then again, the curator of the USS Hornet museum cannot explain with any degree of certainty what he saw about a year and a half ago from the admiral's bridge aboard the aircraft carrier docked in Alameda.

"He was an officer wearing a long-sleeve, khaki uniform," McKean said, recalling that the figure glanced at him and another man before moving silently downstairs. "I looked down on the flight deck, but there was nobody there. I said, 'Who the hell was that guy?' I know there was not another naval officer on that ship."

For McKean, a trustee of the massive steel ship, the tale is nothing more than a memory forged in an instant that he begrudgingly tells about upon request. But to the trained ear of a local expert in the paranormal, it was a bridge spanning the worlds of reality and spirit, a link that has been reported some 200 times in the five years since the Hornet came home.

Alameda clairvoyant Aann Golemac has heard and felt what the ship's visitors, operators and volunteers have been saying since the ship arrived in 1995. Spiritual encounters between both believer and skeptic have woven a tapestry of mystery around the wartime workhorse.

There was the report from a man who was shoved against a wall in a ship restroom only to turn around to find he was alone.

There was the time around the holidays when a man was spotted walking across the cavernous aircraft bay, disappearing into a Christmas tree.

And there have been times when doors have inexplicably opened and tape players turned on.

Coincidence? Golemac doesn't think so.

"Here is where human drama was spent," said Golemac, who was invited to the Hornet to gauge its spiritual activity. "For some reason, they have gathered and picked this spot to make a public statement."

With nearly 60 years of history under her hull, the Hornet and her remaining residents have plenty to talk about. Commissioned in 1943, the eighth craft to bear the name Hornet was a jewel in the U.S. Navy's crown of ships.

Her record reads like a congressional resolution for the winner of Medal of Valor or Purple Heart. Under attack 59 times, but never hit, her resident aircraft destroyed 1,410 Japanese planes, more than any other aircraft carrier in World War II.

Years later, she was launched into action to collect America's heroes, Neil Armstrong, Michael Collins and Edwin "Buzz" Aldrin, when they splashed back to earth in the Pacific Ocean after becoming the first humans to land on the Moon.

Along the way, though, lives were lost and spirits apparently left behind.

"Initially, it was low-key thing," said Bob Rogers, Hornet's marketing director. "Then we started hearing about more and more experiences. I think they're interested in what's going on around the ship."

Golemac said their motives are altruistic.

The message from the disembodied in the beyond is not one of fear and not one of horror. These men who might have worked on the ship at some point are not trying to scare people away, she said.

They simply want it known that the Hornet, credited with having the most distinguished combat record in World War II, should be a monument to peace, said Golemac, who hopes to continue to document the ship's sightings. "They said that over and over and over again," she said.

Monument to peace or not, Nathan Kwong of Martinez always has work to do. The Hornet volunteer, who has spent countless hours over the past 21/2 years restoring the ship's weathered planes, said he has never seen a spirit.

"Until they start helping me out, I haven't seen any of them," said Kwong.

And while McKean has seen firsthand what he continues to doubt was a ghost, he continues to admit what he cannot explain.

"I saw what I saw," he said. "It was crystal clear. But I just don't know what to make of it."