Gregory R. Trauthwein has covered the global maritime market for more than 25...
From a Dutch maritime family to America's Cup yacht design and the president of Martin & Ottaway, a 150-year-old engineering firm, Rik van Hemmen has walked a unique path through the maritime industry. van Hemmen recently visited with Maritime Matters: The MarineLink Podcast, to share his views on everything from maritime engineering, technology, fuel, education and the future of shipping.In 1988, a 28-year-old Rik van Hemmen attended a cocktail party at the Four Seasons in New York City, surrounded by senior shipping executives and shipowners. He had recently joined Martin & Ottaway, the maritime engineering and consulting company where his father, Hank van Hemmen, was a partner.
One of the industry veterans offered the young engineer a greeting he has never forgotten.
Van Hemmen, never particularly inclined to accept conventional wisdom, had an answer.
“Yeah, but all you guys are old and you're going to be dead soon and then it will be all mine, or whatever is left.” Nearly four decades later, the president of Martin & Ottaway can appreciate the humor in that exchange. The older generation has largely passed, but the maritime industry has done anything but disappear.
“The truth of it is that this industry didn't go away. It's just different,” said van Hemmen.
While American deepsea shipping has unquestionably declined, maritime commerce has expanded, technology has advanced and the definition of what constitutes the maritime industry has grown considerably.
“I'm still a small player in a big industry,” he said. “Today, the technology and the engineering is much more interesting than it was back in the 80s.”That perspective is informed by a career that has taken him through defense engineering, classification, America's Cup yacht design, marine casualties, technology development and the management of one of the industry's oldest engineering consultancies.
It also comes from a family history that explains why van Hemmen approaches maritime engineering as something considerably larger than designing ships.
Van Hemmen was born in the Netherlands in 1960, into a family in which maritime engineering was an established profession. His father and grandfather were ship engineers, although neither began his career as a business owner. Maritime was part of everyday life. As a schoolboy, he brought photos of enormous Dutch tugboats to show and tell. His father's work provided opportunities to visit ships and waterfront facilities. But on particularly acute memory has little to do with ships themselves. As a six-year-old, van Hemmen sat in the Lotus Formula One car driven by Jim Clark, which was being transported by the shipping company employing his father.
The experience left a lasting impression, but it did not settle his career ambitions.
Born at the beginning of the space age, van Hemmen was fascinated by aerospace engineering. He could readily imagine pursuing something other than maritime. His family's connection to the industry, however, extended back another generation, and the story of how his grandfather entered shipping is revealing.
His grandfather, Hendrik Fokko, was the eldest of 12 children. His father was a cigar maker, and the younger Hendrik initially trained as a blacksmith. Seeking better opportunities, he decided to apply to a school for railway engineers.
On the tram to the school, an older passenger asked where he was going. When Hendrik explained his plans, the stranger suggested he stay aboard for one more stop and apply to the marine engineering school instead. The money, the stranger explained, was better at sea.He followed the advice and became a ship engineer.
For van Hemmen, the story illustrates something important: even in a country with the maritime heritage of the Netherlands, the connection between a young person and a maritime career can be remarkably tenuous, a resounding message today as the industry collectively seeks to attract and retain the next generation.
And in fact, van Hemmen’s own route was hardly more direct.
The family moved to the United States in 1976 when van Hemmen was 16. Approaching high school graduation, he had made little effort to investigate college until a guidance counselor intervened.
Maritime academies were suggested, but van Hemmen was not yet an American citizen and could not attend under the admission rules then in place.
He began examining engineering programs and discovered Virginia Tech's aerospace and ocean engineering program. Stevens Institute of Technology was another possibility, particularly because of its involvement in America's Cup research.
Model Testing @ Virginia Tech in 1981, with hair and proper lab wear ... Virginia Tech T shirt and cut off jeans. Photo by Mark Tesh, van Hemmen's Virginia Tech research partner.
Van Hemmen studied aerospace and ocean engineering, a combination reflecting the shifting engineering priorities of the 1970s. With the space program and defense aerospace markets contracting, ocean engineering was being promoted as a new frontier. Deep sea mining, an industry still attempting to establish itself commercially today, was among the emerging opportunities. Financial necessity led van Hemmen into cooperative education, including work for a defense contractor on submarine warfare projects. He also spent time with the American Bureau of Shipping, a well-paying surveyor position in New York.
He took the job and bought a sailboat, but the office routine did not suit him. “I just did not like the job. It really made me miserable,” he recalled.On a whim, he applied to work in America's Cup yacht design. He got the job, accepted a substantial pay cut, sailed his boat to Newport and spent four years designing yachts.
By 1988, with a wife, child and mortgage, the economics of yacht design had become less appealing.
Harry Ottaway, his father's business partner, suggested bringing him into Martin & Ottaway.
His father agreed, with one condition. “You don't work for me, you're going to work for Harry Ottaway.” Van Hemmen joined the company that year, beginning a professional association that continues today.
Rik van Hemmen -- young yacht designer.“If things get strange, we get the call”
Martin & Ottaway recently celebrated its 150th anniversary, an occasion marked by the publication of Let Me Be Frank: Martin & Ottaway, 150 Years.
The title refers partly to three generations of company leadership named Francis Martin. It also reflects the book's approach to recounting the company's history, with the founding Francis Martin serving as a narrative voice, even beyond his death in 1921.
For van Hemmen, the title has a third meaning: an attempt to speak candidly about the maritime business.
“We're an engineering company that really is involved in wide ranging problem solving,” he said. “We don't just use calculations and drafting and stuff like that to solve the problem. We go deep into the maritime adventure in solving the problem.”
The company works across engineering, insurance, legal disputes, finance, cargo operations and maritime economics. Its engineers are frequently brought into situations where something has failed, whether a vessel, a technology, a commercial arrangement or an operating procedure.
“The vast majority of problems that we have are failures,” he said. With approximately 10 engineers, the company handles about 200 projects annually. Van Hemmen estimates its client base at 600 to 700, although some clients may call only once in 20 years. “They generally know that if things gets strange and complicated, we get a call.”
Ask van Hemmen about the industry's workforce shortage and the conversation quickly moves beyond wages, recruitment campaigns and maritime academies. His concern is more fundamental. “The problem we have today is the general public doesn't know how to enter it. It's too isolated.”Historically, maritime careers were visible. Ships lined working waterfronts, and young people could encounter the industry simply by walking down a pier. Today's waterfronts are often recreational spaces, separated from the commercial operations that sustain the economy.
Someone watching a containership enter New York Harbor might be fascinated by the vessel, but have no idea how to turn that interest into a career.
Van Hemmen wants to change that through SL7 Expo, an initiative proposing to convert a former SL7 containership, subsequently converted into a roll-on/roll-off vessel, into a major maritime exhibition and education center. Make no mistake: the concept is not simply a museum of maritime history, rather it would emphasize contemporary careers, technology and opportunities, connecting visitors with the industry's many routes to employment. Van Hemmen envisions an attraction comparable in ambition to the Smithsonian's National Air and Space Museum, complemented by practical waterfront programs.
The organizers submitted an unsolicited proposal to MARAD, but van Hemmen said the agency declined to support it on cost grounds. He cited an estimated $20 million annual requirement associated with maintaining the ship. His frustration is rooted in the contrast between spending on maritime infrastructure and the limited resources devoted to introducing people to the industry. “Maritime is a human enterprise,” he said. “If you don't bring the humans in, you can spend all the money you want. It's just not going to happen.”
He believes the industry should particularly reach communities where maritime careers are not traditionally considered. The opportunity is not simply to fill shipboard positions. It is to provide a route into skilled employment and the middle class.
He believes maritime experience produces better decision makers, even among people who ultimately pursue other professions.
“Maritime is one of the best training grounds in the world for humans,” said van Hemmen, citing its combination of independence, teamwork, responsibility and manageable risk makes.
“You need to put the kids in the real to make them powerful.” Young people need opportunities to make mistakes, learn from them and develop confidence. They also need mentors willing to admit they do not always have the answers. “The best teachers say, ‘I have no idea. Let's figure it out together.’”