This project was funded in part by Mass Humanities, which receives support from the Massachusetts Cultural Council and is an affiliate of the National Endowment for the Humanities. Click here to download The Valiant Research Inventory - a summary of artifacts and study aid for research of a maritime episode in the history of Nahant, Massachusetts. Authorization in writing from the Nahant Historical Society is required for any other purpose.

This is the story of the backyard construction of the Valiant, an 80 foot, 90 ton dragger, and how the community helped to make that dream come true. This professional offshore fishing vessel built in Nahant, Massachusetts, was constructed between 1955 and 1963 by owners and neighbors Raymond Palombo and Francis "Swede" L. McClain, Jr. in the narrow space between their houses with their partner Charles Baxter.

Ray Palombo was born in Nahant. He was descended from a long line of seafarers. His father was a Nahant fisherman for years, having emigrated from Italy when he was about 20. Ray’s paternal grandfather owned merchant sailing vessels in Italy and his maternal grandfather was an Italian Naval Sea Captain. Ray was born to be on the sea, but to also build with his hands. He loved wood. When asked by his nephew, Warren, why he preferred wood instead of steel-hulled lobster boats, Ray replied that he ‘could hear what the boat was saying to him’. As a child, he spent hours at the library reading books on boat building. Prior to the Valiant, Ray built four other lobster boats: Cactus 26’, Carmen 32’, a 26 footer for Al Badger, and RayMena at 40 feet. These first boats were diminutive in size and story next to his dream boat, Valiant.

Frank ‘Swede” McClain was also born in Nahant and was around boats all of his life. Swede was an oil tank technician by trade, but loved being on the water. He served in the USCG during WWII, being stationed mostly in Nahant. Over the years, Ray and Swede developed a friendship, and Swede started working on Ray’s boats. This friendship blossomed into a partnership between the two, along with Charlie Baxter.

Charlie was an iron worker by trade, but was known for his carpentry skills. He was also a celestial sailor, meaning that he could navigate by the stars. With the combined talents of these men, the dream of the Valiant was brought to life.

The plans were drawn up. A backyard boatyard was created.

A veritable tower of oak was delivered and divided between the two families yards. The keel was laid in March of 1957. The knee, stem and slots for the ribs were all hand hewn. The timbers for the ribs were made ‘pliable’ by placing them in the steamer until Ray or Swede said they were ‘done’. Once determined to be ‘done’, the ribs were muscled into the keel notches using hand tools only, bent into profile – sometimes with the help of younger volunteers jumping on them to cause a slow bending.

This painstaking labor went on for six long years. Ray, Swede and Charlie Baxter continued to work their regular jobs, working on the Valiant whenever they could; after a long day of hauling traps or servicing home heating systems. There was not much time for relaxation. When Lee McClain saw a picture of his father sitting down, he was shocked. “My father never stopped,” he said. Then he remembered that one of the long planks fell on his father’s foot, breaking it.

The engine.

Ray heard about the wreck of the fishing vessel, St. Joseph, on the rocks of Milk Island off of Gloucester. The owner decided it was not worth the risk to recover and the insurance company would not be responsible for any harm to anyone doing the recovery. So, it was up for grabs and Ray and Swede were in. The locals took bets that it could not be done. It was December and the temp was 10 degrees. Ray, Swede and a couple others made their way to Milk Island. They dismantled the engine, saving what they could, loaded the parts into dorys and brought them back. The sea was rough and Swede was tossed out of the boat and swam to shore. The parts were then transported to the Hodge’s barn where the engine was assembled over time.

This is where people like Fred Gove came in with his mechanical expertise. Fred was put to work making all the parts go together and function properly. Fred’s brother, Ron, was also instrumental in getting the job done. He would haul 400 pots with Ray every day and then put in several hours on Valiant.

They tried to salvage the winch, but it was not possible. They built the winch using steel ordered from Hawkridge Steel and using the ACE Welding shop. At this time, ACE – which had done big business during WWII, was now closed, locked up by the government. Well, that didn’t stop the Valiant folk. In the dark of night, they would be let in by the owners, the Saco brothers, and there they used the ACE machinery to fashion a new winch.

The six years of building were over, and Valiant was ready to head to the sea.

The first thing needed for the move would be a steel frame. E.H. Hinds Riggers of Watertown was called in for the job. Ray had a connection with the owners and once again free labor was offered. When the steel was delivered, the village came to watch. Hinds brought a small group of welders, who were joined by others, such as George Nicoli of ACE Welding of Saugus, who also worked for free.

Valiant was built bow in to a small slope, so she would have to be towed stern first out through the McClain’s back yard. Along with the bulldozer that was being used, E.H. Hinds had two trucks. Steel cables were attached to these trucks and then to the cradle. Those engines were working overtime.

Day Two: Down Walton Road

Walton was a dirt road with ruts, basically one and a half car widths wide. Wooden planks were laid down on the road surface, like train tracks, to line up with the base of the cradle. Large wooden rollers, about the diameter of a telephone pole and 4 to 5 feet long, were then placed between the cradle and the planks. With the two trucks providing the propulsion, Valiant would ‘roll’ over the planks. As Valiant made her slow and steady way, these rollers and planks were constantly being moved by man power along the road, moving them from behind the boat, the bow end, to the front, or the stern end. This was a human powered conveyer belt. Several young, and not so young, men took off from work or school to do this job.

Ron Gove came home on leave from the service to be there. Some of the others were: Tom Gallery, Donny Hodge, Steve Robinson, Alan Sanborn, Jack Hatfield, David Flynn and Ray’s oldest son, Raymie. Don Huston and Charlie Baxter, whose sons Frank and Charles went on to work on the Valiant, were a part of this conveyor. All of this work was volunteer. It’s been said that our town doctor, Joe DiClerico, passed his hat along the move route collecting donations to help defray any costs associated with the Valiant. This was a community event.

Valiant made her slow way along Wharf Street, ending the day just past Desmond Drive. Some folks had their electricity shut off as wires had to be moved out of the way. Utility workers had to climb the poles along the way, disconnect the power and then reconnect after the boat moved by.

Day Three: To the Wharf

Valiant slowly made her way to Marjoram Park, with good wishes coming from the Rockledge on the way. The trucks pulled her as far as they could, right up to the beach corner of the park. Now it was up to the bulldozer to push her to the water’s edge. The plank and roller system continued on to the beach and into the water. Valiant’s move was timed for the low tide.

Everyone jostled in the crowd in an attempt to get the best spot. Before Valiant reached the water, Ray climbed a ladder onto her bow and attached the American flag.

A rope was attached to the bow and a bottle of champagne was tied to the end. She was then christened by his daughter Almena. Almena took the bottle in her white-gloved hands and gave it a good whack. Sandra (Macarelli) Kile was 10 years old the day the Valiant launched: “I remember it being a time of great pride in America as we all went over to the wharf with our flags in hand. We had our native son President John F Kennedy in office, the space program was launched, and in Nahant, Almena, my friend and classmate, was the luckiest girl alive to be christening her father’s boat!”

Former Selectman and Town Historian, Charles Gallery, fired a volley of 12 salutes from his 10 gauge cannon as the boat was christened. The Reverend Swansburg offered a blessing, and Valiant was now ready for the final nudge. The bulldozer brought her as far as possible with the low tide. The rest was up to the incoming tide.

There were news reporters, photographers and even The White House sent an emissary to be a part of this event. Benjamin Atwood Smith, II, former Mayor of Gloucester, former Harvard roommate of JFK, was sent to the launch by the President. A news clipping captures the essence of the ‘breaking free’ of Valiant. “Hundreds of people milled around Marjoram Park until nightfall to watch the progress of the dragger into the water. At dusk, weary men, soaked to their waists finally left it to await the incoming tide."

Others began to crowd into Marjoram Park and onto the wharf at 10 pm. to watch the dragger being lifted off its cradle at high tide. Flood lights from the Swampscott Civil Defense Unit directed beams on the boat. Boats including that of the Explorer Scouts, nudged the Valiant and at 10:45 pm, she slipped smoothly out of the cradle. Sirens, horns, cheers and applause rang out. A few days later, Valiant was towed to Gloucester to be outfitted and made ready for fishing. (Some of the financing came from a bank in Gloucester with the stipulation that Valiant fish out of Gloucester.) Valiant came proudly back to the wharf in Nahant after being fully outfitted and ready for the open sea.

In June of 1967, the Valiant went down in waters about 70 miles off Nantucket. All five crew members, Ray Palombo, Richard Halverson, Joel Izzo, George White and Edward Sullivan evacuated to the dory and were picked up by a nearby fishing vessel, the San Andrea. All that was left of the Valiant were the oars that went with Ron Gove’s dory, which was swamped during the rescue.