William Mackabee

It’s one thing for a man to be on record for having lived 107 years, but this man also served on active duty in the Navy longer than anyone else. “Sailor Bill” was employed by the Navy for 57 years until he retired in 1874, and “Old Mack” (as he was later known) was cared for at the U.S. Naval Home in Philadelphia for another 36 years. That means he was under the command of the U.S. Navy for 93 of his 107 years and was the Navy’s oldest veteran when he died in 1910. 

Bill was born less than three years after his country’s first president died and eight months before Napoleon Bonaparte became emperor of France. As a boy in Maryland he heard his father tell stories of the sea, especially when he served under Admiral Oliver Hazard Perry during the War of 1812. He said that’s when he wanted to live those same adventures.

It was at age 14 that he got the chance and he never looked back. Bill joined as an apprentice on the famous American frigate, the USS Constitution, also known as “Old Ironsides.” (The ship, shown here, was launched in 1797 and is the world’s oldest commissioned warship still afloat, berthed today in Boston.)

During his years of service the boatswain’s mate sailed with several other ships including the USS Delaware. That ship cruised the Mediterranean twice and patrolled the coast of South America between 1833 and 1844. 

There was some adventure while Bill was on the USS Yorktown, which sailed the West African coast in anti-slave trade duty. In 1850 the vessel hit an uncharted reef near the Cape Verde Islands. It broke apart but no lives were lost. The crew lived on an island for what amounted to a month of rest and relaxation before they were picked up and returned home to Norfolk Naval Base.

The high point of his career was serving in the Civil War aboard the USS Congress. It was part of the North Atlantic Blockading Squadron in the Chesapeake Bay. On March 8, 1862 it ran aground in shallow water and came under attack by the Confederate ironclade Virginia. The ship was set ablaze and the magazine exploded, killing 120. 

Among them was the commanding officer, but Bill survived. For the rest of his life he told the tale and showed the scar where a shell fragment wounded him. (The next day, the Virginia, formerly known as the Merrimack, was confronted by the new Union ironclad Monitor, and that famous battle ended in a draw.)

After the war the old sailor, now in his 60s, was attached to the USS Ohio, a receiving ship that served to house new recruits. It was there in Boston that Bill retired at age 71. The U.S. Naval Asylum (renamed the U.S. Naval Home in 1889) became his home for the rest of his life. 

He was as unique in his years as he was long in them. To the newspaper reporter covering his centennial year he disclosed that he was 5’ 8” and 112 pounds, never married, and always smoked a pipe. When he felt the need for exercise he would sometimes box with the next oldest member of the home who was 8 years younger. 

Mack’s daily routine was to wake at 4:30 and have two shots of whiskey before breakfast. He enjoyed his good eyesight, hearing, and mobility. In his late 90s, when bands would visit the home, he could be seen “stepping” to a dance called the sailor’s hornpipe. (A tune by the same name was used years later in the opening of the cartoon theme song, “I’m Popeye the Sailor Man.”)

At age 101 he posed for this photo beside a British cannon called a carronade that sat outside the home’s entrance near his window. It was captured at the end of the War with Britain by the crew of Old Ironsides in 1815. He was fond of it because it was just two years later that Bill first walked the ship’s deck and met the sailors who captured it.

In his later years, the “Dean of the Naval Home” didn’t venture beyond the campus on Grays Ferry Avenue except for one day every year. The reason was to vote, which he did consistently on Election Day.

The old salt’s favorite day was his birthday, and in at least one year there were over 500 people who came to pay their tribute. Newspapers nationwide ran a story on the occasion every year after his 100th. It was 13 days after his 107th celebration that the papers carried the news of his death. He wasn’t ambulatory that day but was able to sit up in bed and smile.

This stone, although now illegible, marks Bill’s place in the Naval Plot.