Navy, Tailhook Still At Odds Group’S Name Tarnished After 1991 Convention

It’s one of those names that has become synonymous with shame. Names like Watergate and Bay of Pigs.

Tailhook.

“Of all the challenges the association faces, anonymity is not one of them,” quipped Navy Cmdr. Sterling Gilliam, referring to the 10,500-member organization that has evoked images of drunken sailors since a convention gone awry in 1991.

The association has worked hard to regain respectability. Membership is up, the association is out of debt and 400 high schools nationwide get a magazine devoted to the rich traditions of naval aviation.

But the 42-year-old organization formed to foster ties among commanding officers, junior officers and the aviation industry remains overshadowed by the legacy of a 1991 Las Vegas convention.

In hotel hallways, long lines of drunken naval aviators groped and assaulted 97 young women. They acted like fraternity boys instead of officers and gentlemen.

In the aftermath, the careers of at least 140 Navy and Marine Corps officers were ruined. Navy Secretary H. Lawrence Garrett was forced to resign.

Plus, the name was tarnished after what many aviators believe was the most informative convention ever at the Las Vegas Hilton. Navy admirals had detailed how the Persian Gulf War against the Iraqis was won by superior U.S. air power.

After canceling the 1992 convention, Tailhook’s leadership took steps to repair the damage, first by holding the 1994 and 1995 conventions in San Diego, far from the gaudy casinos of Sin City.

Since 1995, the association has held its conventions at the homespun John Ascuaga’s Nugget Hotel and casino in Sparks, a stone’s throw from Reno. This year’s convention was held last week next door to a convention of amateur athletes and sports instructors.

But the Navy is keeping its distance, refusing to restore official ties to Tailhook. Admirals still may not attend the annual convention and active duty aviators may go only on their own time and at their own expense.

And the association is still not welcome to hold fund-raising events on Navy bases.

There are no plans by Chief of Naval Operations Adm. Jay Johnson and Navy Secretary John Dalton to restore the relationship, Navy spokesman Lt. Steve Mavica said.

While officials see such ties as crucial for the association’s future, Tailhookers say just as important is enlisting more young officers to replenish a mostly graying and retired membership.

“The challenge for Tailhook is to evolve,” said Lt. Cmdr. Jim Matheson, a 35-year-old former Top Gun instructor now stationed at nearby Fallon Naval Air Station.

Part of that evolutionary process could include changing the name of the organization.

The name, coined when the association was formed 42 years ago, refers to the hook on the tail of a jet that snags a restraining wire as the aircraft lands on a carrier deck.

The board, for now, has rejected changing the name, but many believe that the issue will continue to surface at future conventions.

A name change, along with a change of senior Navy leadership, are the only hope the Tailhook Association has of completely rehabilitating itself in the eyes of politicians and the Pentagon, many say.

“That name is so loaded with negative connotations,” said Eugene Carroll, a retired admiral and critic of expensive Navy projects who is now an analyst with the Center of Defense Information think-tank in Washington.

But Washington is so focused on “political correctness” that it is too soon to expect the association, regardless of name change, “to be brought back into the fold again,” he said.

Lonny McClung, association president and a retired captain from Fort Lauderdale, Fla., is optimistic the Navy will restore official relations.

“The Navy needs Tailhook as a retention tool,” McClung said.

With many young aviators leaving the service for higher-paying civilian jobs, Tailhook provides Navy personnel a morale-boosting opportunity to meet the service’s past heroes and understand the service’s rich traditions, McClung said.

But Tailhook desperately needs the Navy, too.

“Look around here,” said Jerry Pierce of Escondido during a break in daylong symposiums attended by a mostly middle-aged crowd. “The membership pool is drying up. We’ve got to get new blood.”

Only 27 percent of the association’s membership is active duty. Seventy percent of the members are 55 and older. The membership, which totaled 16,000 before the scandal, nose-dived to about 9,000 and has slowly increased over the past seven years to its present level of 10,500.

After huge legal bills accumulated as the organization settled, out of court, 13 lawsuits stemming from the scandal, the association posted a $7,500 surplus at the end of last year. It was the first surplus since 1991.