At a Forrestal lecture at the U.S. Naval Academy (USNA), Senator John McCain once said, “I’ve been around a long, long time. I’ve made more mistakes than anyone will ever know . . . I arrived a rebel without a cause and left much the same, but I discovered that a sense of honor had been imparted to me here that would speak to me in the darkest hours.” Some of the most successful officers who graduated from USNA, like John McCain, did their fair share of serving restriction due to conduct “challenges”—and some were even members of the Black N Society. What is this society? It started in the early 1900s, and is composed of the biggest rule-breakers in the school, who earn their spots by committing serious conduct offenses and acquiring high numbers of demerits. Throughout the years, the requirement for number of demerits or level of offense to be part the society has changed, but the principle remains the same. A midshipman is officially in the society when he/she receives a yellow sweater with a big black N on the front, which is like having “street cred” to some mids and is looked down on by others. This “street cred” is earned after serving an immense amount of restriction.
On restriction, not only do midshipmen muster multiple times a day for uniform inspections, stand extra watches, clean Bancroft Hall, and march tours with a rifle, but they also learn life lessons that sculpt them into great people. Here are a few stories of past Black Ns who turned their tragedies to triumphs:
Christopher Dunphy, Class of 1987
It was Labor Day of Commander Chris Dunphy’s plebe year. He and a couple friends, who were civilians, decided to go to out after Navy won a football game. Dunphy admits he and his friends were “overserved” while out in Georgetown, but his friends managed to bring him back to the academy in time for curfew. The night seemed to have gone as planned . . . but as always, something had to happen. As Chris laid in bed sound asleep, his friends realized he had forgotten his wallet in the car—so they decided to drive onto Tecumseh Court to return it. Furiously, the Officer of the Watch ran out to Tecumseh Court asking what the hell was going on, but Dunphy’s civilian friends just giggled and told him to give the wallet to Midshipman Fourth Class Christopher Dunphy.
The following morning, Chris woke up with not only a hangover, but also to three conduct offense chits on his desk. He got “fried” (midshipman slang for being caught by the conduct system) for wearing civilian clothes, drinking alcohol, and driving a car. Those infractions might not seem like much, especially since he was of age to drink alcohol, but for a plebe, it was a big deal.
The multitude of demerits and days of serving restriction brought Dunphy into the Black N Society. Later in his midshipman career, Dunphy served as Brigade Honor Secretary and wearing the sweater did not seem right to him. In that position, he gave many lectures to other midshipmen that focused on the importance of never compromising your honor and taking ownership when making mistakes. “Screw up and take the hit. Just don’t lie about it,” he told others when thinking of his days on restriction. He explained that people who did not own up to their mistakes after getting in trouble would have been kicked out for an honor offense instead of given another chance.
Dunphy learned valuable life lessons from his experience on restriction that were applicable in the fleet and in his life, but the one that impacted him as a leader the most was empathy. After he graduated in 1987, he served in the Navy for 20 years. He flew H-3 Sea Kings and H-60 Blackhawks for 15 years, then became a flight instructor in Pensacola for three years, and finally finished as the head of Navy recruiting in Boston. As a flight instructor, he had a couple of students who got into trouble, but his past experience as a Black N allowed him to view and approach their situations differently than other officers might have. His approach was: “Don’t judge. Try to help and move forward.” He knew that the people he led would make mistakes, but what mattered to him most was that they owned up to their mistakes and learned from them.
He believes that “having empathy by knowing your own failures is how you lead your organization to success.” When his sailors or students made a mistake, he would remember his past and the good people he met while on restriction at the academy. He stated that those were some of the best people he met. “Guys on restriction became pilots, EOD officers, etc., because they were not afraid to test limits and take the pain of getting caught.” Dunphy always gave his sailors the benefit of the doubt and believed that they were people of good character, even though they made a mistake.
Another important lesson Chris learned from his experience on restriction was humility. “When fresh ensigns go into the fleet after graduation from the academy, some believe they are better than the others.” But he explains that he, as well as other members of Black N Society, gained a vast amount of humility when serving their restriction. They learned that they were not perfect and that they were certainly not better than others. Dunphy states that restriction gave him the empathy and humility that made him a better leader. He and other members of the society “hung on at the academy while learning their lesson and then took care of their people when they got out.”
Jim Hawkins, Class of 1988
After a long and sweaty day of leading his plebes, Midshipman Second Class Jim Hawkins, 33rd platoon commander for plebe summer, was informed that his classmate “fried” one of the plebes from Jim’s platoon. In Jim’s eyes, it was his responsibility to handle this situation and his plebe himself, so he went to his classmate and told him to not to put the plebe into the conduct system because he would take care of it. Jim’s classmate fried her anyway. Little did this classmate know that frying was not the only thing happening in Bancroft—Jim and his friends started to get a pot stirring as well. Hawkins, squad leaders in his platoon, and his plebes worked together to get revenge on the classmate and his company’s plebes. At 0100, they secretly left 33rd company area and divided into groups to commence the pranks. One group stole all of the shoes from the classmate’s company, tied them together, and then threw them outside. Another group caught seven pigeons and released the birds in the opposing company area to disturb them and leave a mess. Jim says these pranks, along with others, were all centered on ruining the morning inspection that his classmate had planned for his company’s plebes.
In the morning, Jim’s classmate, along with the rest of his company, were in shambles. All went according to plan, leaving the masterminds behind the plan unknown—until a laundry bag that was left behind was examined. Inside, there was a sock with one of the plebe’s alpha code labeled, which gave it all away. Rather than having a plebe take the fall, Jim came forward and admitted to being in charge of the scheme. He and his squad leaders got hit with the conduct offenses of destruction of government property, cruelty to animals, and keeping plebes out past curfew. Jim lost all his leave and served restriction throughout that summer, where he says that he met the “finest mids in the brigade.” He described the restriction crew as composed of two extremes: the studs that tested limits and the dirt bags. He established strong relationships with these “studs” while sharing the adversity of restriction in the scorching heat when Bancroft Hall had no air conditioning. “It really sucked doing these little things,” he admits, but he also states that he never felt sorry for himself then or now. Instead, he learned valuable lessons that helped him lead Marines as he served as an officer for 20 years by flying Harriers and in Iraq.
One of the things that stuck with Jim from his experience was the importance of “keeping it in the house” when his Marines made mistakes, not put it on paper. He learned that good leaders will take interest in the lives of their sailors and Marines, and they will do whatever they can to handle things themselves rather than allow someone else to handle them, which he describes not only as bad leadership, but also as cowardly.
Another lesson Hawkins learned was to “start with the premise that they are good people.” When his Marines got in trouble, he did whatever he could to handle it and help them out because he believed good people make dumb mistakes sometimes. His positivity and empathy for his Marines allowed him to establish stronger relationships and an environment of trust throughout his career as an officer.
Adam Fleming, Class of 1998
Commander Adam Fleming, the current 4th Battalion Officer at the U.S. Naval Academy, did not have one specific event that brought him into the Black N Society, but instead, “a string of selfish choices that spiraled down into a culmination of different offenses.” He explained that the majority of those bad decisions were unexcused absences to PT sessions, classes, or signing taps for curfew. Fleming served 20 days of restriction his youngster year, and the rest during his firstie year, which he described as being basically another plebe year due to all of the restriction and lack of privileges.
During restriction, Fleming learned little things that helped him throughout his entire career that he still uses today, including lessons he did not discover the value of until later on in his naval career. The “little things” all point to the biggest lesson restriction taught him—the importance of having an inspection ready uniform and the ability to put it on quickly. Since uniform inspections were randomly called on the PA system, giving the restrictees only about 15 minutes to change into their uniform and muster, he learned the necessity of always having a spotless uniform ready. If he failed the inspection or was late, his day for restriction did not count; this motivated him to focus on getting the little things in his uniform perfect, such as fixing his drunken eagles on his cover, measuring his devices perfectly, and burning the surface of his shoulder boards.
After graduating in 1998, Fleming commissioned as a surface warfare officer and reported to San Diego for his first two tours on a frigate and an amphib. After, he went to Naval Post Graduate School for shore duty, travelled to Hawaii to become department head on a destroyer and then XO of a cruiser in San Diego. Then, he went back to Hawaii for shore duty at the U.S. Pacific Fleet and U.S. Pacific Command and then finally took command of a ship in San Diego. Now, he serves as the Battalion Officer back where he started, at the Naval Academy. The first thing he looks at in others is their uniform. “The appearance of a uniform, especially in the military, is a big deal because if you look like garbage, I’m going to assume you’re garbage at work.” As Battalion Officer, he emphasizes the need for a perfect uniform because “it’s not hard, it just takes some care and effort.”
As head restrictee, the leader of the restrictees who is responsible for the group’s accountability, Fleming learned many leadership lessons that he was grateful for when he took command of his ship. He learned how to organize people, how to get them to do what they did not want to do, how to protect his people without compromising his own integrity, and how to work with officers—particularly officers who did not want to be there, such as the Officer of the Watch and Senior Duty Officer who conduct restriction musters. When placed in this leadership position, Fleming learned the importance of maintaining politeness and a sense of humor. “The biggest piece of advice I can give people is to dig deep and have fun. You’re going to have bad days, but a sense of humor will always get you through, particularly restriction.”
After his last restriction muster at 2230, he and his restriction-mates walked to the Rotunda where Fleming would go through the “slide for life,” a tradition where everyone formed a tunnel and the midshipman who just finished restriction would slide on his/her belly, scratching up the once impeccable uniform. When he arrived at the Rotunda for the ritual, he saw that it was crowded with all of his friends and people who got him through his tough times. That moment stuck with him forever, as he realized that he couldn’t do everything on his own, and also, that he was responsible for all of these people who rely on him to do better. This experience translated to the fleet when he took command of a ship, and his sailors would call “attention on deck” as they saw him coming through—he always reflects on the weight of responsibility he has for others now and the importance of that.
Presently as the Batt-O, he is tough on midshipmen when he adjudicates their conduct actions because he “needs it to sting now and never be forgotten,” just like he will never forget the sting of lessons from his past. He would rather it “suck now” so mistakes don’t happen after graduation, when responsible for other sailors and marines. At his desk, he framed his restriction cards (form that shows the days served), as a reminder that he has been worse, but can also do a lot better. Every day, he looks at his cards and “gains motivation by remembering his selfishness.” Now, he puts in the extra time and effort in everything he does and makes sure midshipmen learn the right things that will help them later.
Dan Deakin, Class of 1987
To understand an aspect of the next anecdote, it’s significant to know the difference between honor and conduct offenses at the Naval Academy. Conduct offenses occur when midshipmen break the rules from Midshipman Regulations. On the other hand, honor offenses—the worst type of offense that can be committed as a midshipman—are when lying, cheating, or stealing is involved. Usually, an honor offense will result in getting kicked out of the academy. However, if a midshipman is allowed to stay, they will have to serve the maximum amount of restriction and be unable to service select Marines. Committing a serious conduct offense or a multitude of them can result to getting kicked out as well, but a midshipman is usually given chances to learn from their mistake if it is not too serious.
The most notorious transgressor of midshipmen regulations I contacted for this article was Dan Deakin, originally in the class of 1987, who graduated in December 1988. Deakin was able to survive at the academy with not one, not two, but FIVE Black Ns. Coming into the academy as a prior enlisted sailor, he says he was innately not respectful of the rules and was accustomed to a culture of heavy drinking in the Navy. The first Black N he received was when he was in the midst of plebe summer, after he and three classmates drank some “mouthwash” sent in a care package. Little did the upperclassmen know that it was not mouthwash, but schnapps with green dye that was mailed to celebrate a plebe’s birthday. Being the “noble” midshipmen that they were, Deakin and his friends drained the bottle in the toilet after each had toasted and drank a shot. Since the academy lifestyle was still fresh to those new plebes, there was still some confusion regarding the difference between conduct and honor offenses—which led to one of Dan’s classmates, who also drank a shot, to turn them all in since he thought it was not “honorable” to drink. The commandant awarded them with demerits and restriction.
As his plebe year continued, Deakin learned that “restriction, while a pain in the rear, could also be entertaining.” After earning another Black N for drinking with his classmates, he found himself, again, standing at attention and getting his uniform inspected six times a day by the duty officer. When mustering and marching tours, he and fellow restrictees suffered together, established bonds and the “Breakfast Club,” where they managed to keep their sense of humor and sanity. “It took five Black Ns for me to learn my lesson,” he stated. After another night out drinking, he spent the night in jail. In the middle of his second class year, with 4 Black Ns and more than120 tours served, Deakin’s luck finally ran out. Rear Admiral Larson, the superintendent of the academy at the time, had every reason to kick him out, but he put Dan in the “Reconsideration and Reappointment” (R&R) program instead. In R&R, he returned to the fleet as an E-3 (he previously was an E-4) on board the USS Henry B. Wilson (DDG-7). After his R&R, Deakin managed to come back to the academy and graduate with the class of “1988.5” on 23 December 1988. After finally graduating, he commissioned in the Supply Corps and served on board the USS Nashville (LPD-13), and then left the Navy in 1993.
Deakin went into the consulting world and worked for top firms, becoming the chief information officer for different divisions of a Fortune 500 company. All of his adventures serving on restriction taught him many life lessons, but he states that the most significant thing he got from it was that “whatever life throws at you there is something to laugh about, there are always others in over their heads, and the key to success, just like restriction, is to keep showing up.”
Final Thoughts
“Virtue is not determined in moments of public attention to our behavior. Courage, devotion, humility, compassion—all the noble qualities of life—are not practiced in pursuit of public approval,” Senator John McCain stated during his Forrestal lecture at USNA after mentioning the many days he spent on restriction. Valuable habits and lessons such as maintaining a sense of humor, humility, and empathy are taught to all midshipman, including those—perhaps especially those—who are “trouble-makers” or make mistakes. These rough patches of marching tours, losing privileges, and uniform inspections attribute to their wisdom and success later on in their lives. The Black N Society might not be something midshipmen should aspire to, but if they find themselves in it, they should own it and learn from it.
