You would've though royalty had come to town. In a way it had.

"Large numbers of ladies and gentlemen were present to witness the opening ceremonies, which were made as imposing as possible," one naval official reported, "the occasion being of great rejoicing as well to the citizens of Norfolk and Portsmouth as to the whole Navy."

Newspapers promoted the event at the Gosport Navy Yard: "Steam ferry boats will ply between County Wharf and the Dry Dock during the day! Fare 12-1/2 cents. A spacious apartment for the ladies has been set up in the engine house and a viewing stand erected."

What was going on that day, June 17, 1833, was a big deal, the first dry-docking of a ship on the East Coast of America. It was a signal that an emerging naval sea power had come of age, with elaborate facilities not just for building ships but for repairing them. Almost simultaneously, two dry docks, one here and one in Boston, both carrying the

No. 1 name and costing about $1 million each, were built and ready for their first customers.

It so happened, though, that the 74-gun frigate Delaware, built with live oak timbers at the Portsmouth yard 13 years before, was ready for servicing one week before the venerable frigate Constitution was scheduled at Boston's Charleston Navy Yard. So Portsmouth won the crown of first.

There was much chest-thumping about that, as you might guess. Drydock No. 1 at what now is known as Norfolk Naval Shipyard, is 175 years old this week, the oldest continuously operating dry dock in the country.

And here's this gorgeous illustration. You can see the caisson gates swinging open as the ship approaches, then imagine, after the gates closed and the water was slowly pumped out, how the Delaware would settle down onto a specially arranged cradle. Then, with it high and dry, ship tenders would be able to work on its probably copper-sheathed bottom. Special stands were constructed for the occasion, with an overflow crowd, including a stray dog.

It was an enormous public works project, headed by famed engineer Laomni Baldwin. Soon after construction began, the Southern Branch of the Elizabeth was jammed with barges laden with giant granite blocks shipped from Quincy, Mass., as well as white oak and yellow pine planks from local lumberyards.

One contemporary account says the blocks were cut and dressed before arriving, "and so well was this work done that it is estimated that not $100 were spent in altering stone."

That's interesting in light of what I found in a column written for this space 10 years ago by George Tucker. As an economy measure, he wrote, Baldwin hired African American stonecutters, rather than employing higher-wage white workers, to put the finishing touches on the blocks before they were lowered into place.

"This caused an uproar among Norfolk-area stonecutters," Tucker wrote, adding that Baldwin stood his ground.

"As a result, the carefully constructed dock survives as a monument to the skills of the now nameless black craftsmen whose stonecutting artistry is still recognizable in the facility they helped to construct."

The Delaware's demise is part of the other famous event at Drydock No. 1. In April 1861, fearful that the shipyard would fall into Confederate hands, Union commanders blew up the yard and sank several ships, among them the Delaware and the steam frigate Merrimack. It was at the granite dock that the raised Merrimack was converted to the lethal ironclad Virginia. The Delaware was refloated after the war, but only to be sold to wreckers, who took it apart and sold its copper and timbers, too.

Drydock No. 1 at the Naval Shipyard in Portsmouth is off limits to the public, but there's a hands-on exhibit at the Naval Shipyard Museum on High Street that shows how it works. Nearby is one of the most impressive ship models you'll ever see, that of a three-masted ship-of-the-line, with a gold painted figurehead, of Tamanend, chief of the Delaware Indians.

Paul Clancy, paulclancy@msn.com

Blog: www.paulclancystories.com