Fact vs. Hollywood Fiction: The Real Story of the Sullivan Brothers and World War II

Every year, the State Historical Society of Iowa presents the Benjamin F. Shambaugh Awards for the best Iowa history books published during the previous year.

The award’s namesake served for 40 years as the State Historical Society’s superintendent, taught at the University of Iowa, and vigorously promoted the study of state and local history.

This year, Bruce Kuklick received an honorable mention for his book, “The Fighting Sullivans: How Hollywood and the Military Make Heroes,” which award juror Tim Walch reviewed below.

Except for several unusual circumstances, the Sullivan brothers of Waterloo probably would have passed into history with little recognition or recollection. That is the central thesis of this important book: how the military and the film industry worked in tandem to use the tragic loss of five brothers to stir up American patriotism during World War II.

Such a statement seems cynical, but it is hard to dispute the facts. Certainly the young men had done little to merit admiration before they all showed up to join the United States Navy in the aftermath of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. They were typical American recruits.

What distinguished them was their insistence that they serve together on the same ship. “We Sullivans stick together,” they were heard to say. It was not an unusual request; numerous brothers made the same request when they joined the military. What is mystifying is that the Sullivans were, in fact, assigned to the same ship, the USS Juneau.

Although service together might have gained them a brief mention in the local press, it was what happened on Nov. 13, 1942, that swept the brothers and their family into a vortex of patriotism, myth and celebrity. On that day the Juneau was struck by an errant Japanese torpedo, broke in two and sunk. It appeared that all hands were lost, and there was no immediate effort to look for survivors.

But that was not the case. In fact, as many as a hundred members, including George Sullivan, awaited rescue, but the false assumption that all hands were lost delayed rescue efforts for 48 hours. When the Navy finally searched the area, only 10 survivors remained.

All five Sullivans were lost as the result of a series of snafus. At the time, nobody could have predicted how the Navy would use this senseless loss of life to motivate the armament industry to produce more and more ships. The Navy plastered a photo of the brothers above the slogan “they did their part” on a widely distributed poster and, to further enhance the message of total sacrifice, asked the brothers’ parents to tour ship-building facilities as news cameras whirred.

The spotlight on the Sullivan family’s sacrifice eventually led Hollywood to produce a film called “The Fighting Sullivans.” It was a real pot-boiler, which fictionalized the boys’ life growing up on the streets of Waterloo.

The evolution of these extraordinary circumstances is the focus of Bruce Kuklick’s important new book. Well researched and well considered, Kuklick’s book raises uncomfortable questions about the nature of heroism and celebrity during wartime. He carefully analyzes the rather pedestrian life of the Sullivan family in Waterloo and notes the bond between the boys during the 1930s. He further traces the military engagement that led to their family’s tragic loss.

What distinguishes the book, however, is how well Kuklick dissects the ways the Navy and Hollywood used the Sullivan family for their own ends. Rather than acknowledging the stupidity of the decision to let five brothers serve on the same ship, the Navy lionized the boys, and Hollywood capitalized on all the attention. The Sullivan family became props in the effort to build a myth about sacrifice and heroism.

Kuklick also provides a useful chapter on the aftermath of all the mythmaking. Now, long after the war is over, how does Waterloo remember the Sullivan brothers? The book notes that there were ambivalent responses to the various proposals to honor their sacrifice.

“We need heroes,” Kuklick writes in the book’s excellent conclusion. “But how we identify them is unclear, as is why we must elevate them beyond the human.”

That is the ongoing dilemma over the legacy of George, Frank, Red, Matt and Al Sullivan.

— Reviewer Tim Walch is a retired director of the Herbert Hoover Presidential Library and Museum in West Branch.