From Tanker to Reef: Inside the Legacy of Galveston’s Concrete Shipwreck Selma

The SS Selma, a rare example among concrete vessels, is partially submerged at Pelican Flats. Visitors on the Seagull II harbor tour can get close enough to observe the exposed rebar and crumbling concrete—details that are typically hidden from view when seen from the ferry or seawall.

Galveston’s harbor was filled with attractions for visitors—but none as peculiar or intriguing as the SS Selma. Captain Brian Leadingham, who has guided the Seagull II tours for years with the Galveston Historical Foundation, mentioned that many visitors frequently share their experiences of spotting the wreck from the Seawolf Park pier or while aboard passing ferries. “However, until you are close to it … individuals often don’t understand what it truly consists of,” he stated.

The tale of the Selma unfolds during a time of steel shortages in World War I. On June 28, 1919, she was launched, a date that coincidentally marked the signing of the Treaty of Versailles. Approved by President Woodrow Wilson, she became the largest of 12 concrete vessels constructed by F.F. Ley & Company in Mobile, Alabama. Built with a unique combination of reinforced concrete and steel, she managed to stay afloat despite her unusual materials.

Selma's marine existence was short-lived. In May 1920, she collided with a jetty near Tampico, Mexico, resulting in a significant 60-foot gash in her hull. Even though they towed her to Galveston and applied temporary patches, the repair attempts proved unsuccessful. On March 9, 1922, authorities ultimately sank her intentionally in a dredged trench measuring 1,500 feet in length and 25 feet in depth, located just off Pelican Island. 

Instead of disappearing from memory, the Selma established itself as a lasting underwater landmark. Leadingham remarked that “possessing an object such as a concrete sunken ship … necessitates no upkeep.” It remains in place, guiding those seeking direction. 

Throughout the years, it has also attracted speculation—reports suggest that enforcement officials disposed of confiscated alcohol in that location; community stories hint at connections to organized crime. Leadingham approaches the situation with caution: “I would say it would be more likely than not that it was used … for something nefarious,” he stated. In the years following the war, the wreck became a home to a hermit. In 1946, Clesmey “Frenchy” LeBlanc reportedly purchased the vessel for $100, residing on it alongside goats, chickens, and unsuccessful oyster experiments. LeBlanc departed from the Selma in the early 1950s, returning it to private ownership. Plans to transform it into a floating resort, pier, or brewery ultimately did not materialize. 

Today, the Selma serves as a vital habitat and sanctuary. The weathered hull is home to fish such as sheepshead and trout, while avian residents like brown pelicans, egrets, and a huge great blue heron—affectionately named “Charlize Heron”—nest among its fractured deck. Galveston’s harbor tours are still navigating close to the abandoned vessel.