1959 North American Championship - Chicago, Illinois, USA
Regatta Report
by Gary Comer, 1960 Star Log
For good reasons, I didn't care to write this account; but when the editor of the LOG insisted, for better reasons, I couldn't say no. It is an extremely personal story of a great season for me, for my crew Bill Hackel, and for Turmoil. If I've left too much out or put too much in, I ask your forgiveness. If the actors seem to appear and disappear without explanation, it's because they did. If you seem to be watching the wrong part of a race, it's because I was in it. In both of these championships (North American and Worlds’) there were several others, less fortunate than I, who sailed excellent races. I couldn't see them all, so I can't tell of them all. If this story is worth a dedication, I'd like it to be to my crew and my friends, who made the telling of it possible.
HOW IT CAME TO BE
The phone rang, and I heard the familiar voice of Bill Hackel saying, *Comer, why don't you buy a Star Boat?" It was a warm Spring afternoon. As I looked out of my office window on to the lake, all the reasons I hadn't owned a Star for two years seemed to fade away. I couldn't think of a truthful reason not to buy one; and that's how No. 4143 was born: a standard Old Greenwich with a few home-made frills. I called it Turmoil, for the way I do things.
I asked Skip Etchells to make a light spar, and I got more than I bargained for- or less, as it turned out. "You'll break it!" he said, and he was nearly right. For two weeks we didn't know what that mast would think of next. It buckled violently between all of the staving points. At the suggestion of Pete Bennett, we moved the upper shrouds to the tip. That straightened it out above the jib intersection.
Then I put a strut between the lower shroud and the mast: that stopped it from collapsing to windward below the spreader. If you're having trouble with your spar, the first thing to do, I think, is stop it floating at the deck. I blocked my mast solid, and with the other things we'd done, it began to behave. As it turned out in California, it was lucky we stayed with it.
We were fortunate to have two top skippers in our fleet - Pete Bennett and Gene McCarthy. The three of us were about evenly matched at the beginning of the season. Later Turmoil seemed to have the advantage. The first indication we had that Turmoil could go, was in a match race with Dick Stearns. We beat him by 18 seconds in a 30 m.p.h. wind. Around our way, Dick's Glider is always a dependable criterion of boat speed. We were encouraged.
In the weeks prior to the North American, we spent several evenings and week-ends tuning with Pete Bennett and Harry Nye. They were excellent trial horses, and reflected quickly what was good and bad in the many changes we made. In the end, all of us were moving better.
THE NORTH AMERICAN CHAMPIONSHIP
First Race
In the all-important start of the first race of a championship, we managed to be at the wrong end of the line. It was a windward-leeward in a 6 to 8 south wind. All indications were that the wind would haul west, so I picked the west end of the line. The wind, of course, hauled east. We tacked on the header, and after only two minutes of sailing, we were the length of the line to leeward of the boats that had started out at the stake and tacked on the header.
The clouds were making up in the south-west and passing along shore, an indication the wind would shift west in spite of what it had just done. We sailed toward shore on the port tack. The boat felt as if it had good speed, and the point-highs. After 10 minutes of sailing we worked up under Herby Hild, right into his backwind, and had to tack. There were two boats that had us by far. One had a silver star-Stan Ogilvy. The other was a yellow boat, No. 3863. It turned out to be Chuck Barnes of Gull Lake, Michigan. The wind didn't swing much, either way.
Ogilvy rounded first, Barnes second, Bill Parks third. We were fourth, overlapped with Knowles. On the next beat, the wind shifted about 30 degrees into the east. (Local knowledge, wrong.) It was almost follow the leader. The wind increased to about 15 and it was a long beat, with the Jackson Park crib, a structure about the size of an apartment building, right in the middle of the leg! At the mark we neatly maneuvered into Parks' backwind and sagged back about 10 boat lengths. He got around third without any trouble, and Knowles crossed us to round fourth.
On the run to the finish, we passed Knowles about ten lengths to windward. but we couldn't sail low enough to lay the line. Behind, Lippy saw that the wind was dying in the east, and about to come out of the west. He jibed and came from about 20 lengths, across Knowles stern and ours. When I saw him with a neat little puff, I jibed, but couldn't make it in front of Knowles.
Durwood knew he had us, but what he didn't see, because he was watching our boat, was that Bob was trapping the two of us. In the end, of course, we lost to both of them, finishing sixth. I was so furious with myself I nearly pounded a hole through the deck. Billy was a little shocked by this: I'd been pretty casual about blunders before. Once I blew off the steam, though, we had a laugh, but it was on us. Two points aren't easy to come by.
Second Race
Two weeks later, I was standing next to Knowles on the Newport Harbor dock, observing the World Championship flag raising ceremony. A gun was fired and a flag raised for every nation participating. After a half-dozen shots, Knowles remarked: "The North American Race Committee followed us here!" And all of the fine starting lines and courses that Chairman Gene McCarthy set will probably be forgotten for the race that began four times! It became a joke afterwards: "Which of your starts did you like best?" I liked my last one best of all. It was the only one on which we got away clean.
On the first start, the line was favored slightly at the stake and everyone wanted to be there. In the last few seconds half the fleet was over the line and the committee recalled the whole lot. For the second start, a committeeman read the clock wrong and fired the starting gun one minute early! At the third start, half the fleet was again over and everyone was recalled. By now the wind had shifted a few degrees and the line was true. It seemed that everyone took their turn starting at the stake end, then moved up to the committee end, and in turn, those at the committee boat end, worked down to the stake.
It was kind of hairy down there by the stake: not much wind and a good chance of stalling out and fouling. Our last start was about 10 yards up from the stake with plenty of room below to drive. Don Bever took the stake start, and the two of us worked out to sea going better than anyone around. The wind was only 5 or 6 m.p.h. Ogilvy and Barnes started at the committee boat and split off to the south. Knowles and Lippy, who had had a few excellent starts, were in the tank on the one that counted. After about 10 minutes of sailing, the wind lifted us. It was now impossible to cross to the other side. This is the way of life in a big fleet.
Once you're committed to a side, you'd better stay with it. Parks tried the other way and sailed behind most of the fleet to get to the other side-just in time for the wind to shift back. It's largely a matter of chance and early position in a big fleet. Along with Bever, we nosed into more wind. As we approached the lay line, the wind obligingly headed. Ogilvy, Barnes and everyone who went the other way, were scratching up toward our slant-but couldn't get to it. We rounded first, Bever second. The next time upwind, Bever passed us and took the lead. Foster Clark of Nassau was coming steadily on the second beat and if he had had more time, might have passed us.
We finished in that order-Bever first, we second and Foster third. Pete Bennett sailed through a large number of boats to finish fourth. Barnes, who had finished second the day before, made a remarkable recovery from the wrong side, and finished fifth. This gave him the series lead over us by one point.
This race was particularly tragic for Bob Lippincott, Knowles and several others, trapped at the start, and forced the wrong way to get clear. Durwood finished 22nd and Lippy 35th. If anything, next-to-last made The Killer deter mined to show everyone the next day. He did. But the time limit ran out before anyone could finish. As we were being towed home on that innocently calm lake, Billy and I thought it wasn't likely to be this way for long.
Third Race
There were all kinds of rumors today. Down by the Indiana border, not 40 miles away, there were tornado warnings. For Chicago lake-front, 60 m.p.h. winds were predicted. Ominous black clouds were churning over the city, but our dauntless race committee ignored them-and rightly. Nothing happened all day, except the wind died completely at times!
Once again, that valueless asset, local knowledge, indicated that the wind would go west. The wind didn't go anywhere, except maybe up. Most of the fleet went south, and a half-dozen boats went east. We were doing well out south waiting for the west wind. Then we saw it! A line of breeze moving in only from the east. The half-dozen easterners, with Cal Hadden in the lead, were rail down and a full mile ahead before we got the wind. We were lucky to get our nose in it even then. Jack Streeton was right alongside of us, and didn't yet it for 10 minutes.
Barnes was in real trouble; he was among the last to get the new wind and never got above 20th. We were happy to have him off our back, but we were sorry to see him go down on a fluke. He'd sailed a great series. Ogilvy, per usual, was square in the middle and sailed into the new wind about 10th. Our little bit of breeze took us out of the cheap seats up to 11th. Stan crossed us by about 20 yards but he couldn't hold us, and we cut it to a few boat-lengths by the mark, then passed him on the next reach.
The rest of the race was uneventful until the finish. Alvaro De Cardenas and Johnny McKeague were 100 yards or so ahead of us on the last reach. I don't know why, but we started to move. We halved their lead by the next mark and sailed up to them by the finish line. Alvaro held down, Johnny held up and had to come down. I came up under Johnny just at the wrong time-right into his wind shadow. We stopped! Alvaro sharpened up and crossed ahead of us. Johnny sailed right by, finishing half a length ahead. All Billy could say was: “Why did you ever do that?" He was so right. If I'd stayed cool we would have had two more of those precious little points.
As it stood, Cal Hadden won the race. Harry Nye finished 2nd, Parks 3rd, Brud Farrand 4th. There were many new faces today, including a new series leader, Bill Parks. He was two points ahead of us. This meant trouble if the breeze came in-and it did.
Fourth Race
The wind was out of the north at about 15 m.p.h., some puffs up to 20. Here again, calling on our vast store of local knowledge, we figured the wind would haul east. It never backs; never stays north. That is, never except today. The series was narrowing down and we thought Parks had better be had today. or we might never get him. We jumped him at the start but he drove for clear air. The two of us sailed along together, we going a little higher, Bill a little faster.
Then it happened. The wind came in from the north-west. The two of us, on the wrong side of the fleet, had been hung out to dry! Not only that, but we'd been sailing with the wrong course-boat on our beam, and had overstood the windward mark by at least 200 yards. On the other side, and going fast, new faces again. Sam Beard was all fired for first. He was hitting the shifts right and going fast. Bob Lippincott was right on his heels and Herby Hild next. I only get this by report, as we rounded a grim 23rd. Parks 25th. We had a good deal to overcome. John Sherwood was underlapped on us, and I wanted to get by in the worst way. I had an idea. The seas were north and of a respectable height.
The wind was north-west, and blowing about 18 m.p.h. I squeaked out ahead of Sherwood and down across his bow. We started running dead down wind on the starboard tack with the waves on our port quarter. And did we go! On the same tack as the others, we were sailing 30 degrees lower-and most important for the mark! We passed at least 12 boats on this leg, rounding 10th or lith. We'd closed considerably on the rest. Ogilvy and Nye rounded directly ahead of us. Harry had a surprised look when he saw where we'd come to, but he wasn't any more surprised than we were.
Stan tacked to the west and as soon as we cleared his backwind we followed. Things were looking good. Pete Bennett, running fourth, was only fifty yards ahead of us. I could even read Sam Beard's number! Then I saw Parks coming along and I thought we shouldn't leave him alone after having been put to so much trouble. So we tacked over to the east to tuck him away. The next thing I knew we were on the outside of a shift again. We lost about five boats. Ogilvy did a great job on this beat, sailing from ninth to third.
At the finish there were some quick jibes in a dying wind and Bob Lippincott nosed out Sam Beard by a length. Herby Hild finished a well deserved third, Pete Bennett fourth, Ogilvy fifth. We'd been up and down the fieet like a window shade this day, and were not entirely displeased with a ninth. It put us in first place by two points over Ogilvy. Parks lost several boats on the run, and finished 18th. He was now 6 points behind, in third place.
Fifth Race
This race was proof that you can't call a series over until the finish gun is fired. In four races the series lead had changed as many times. The point gatherers now began to show. Pete Bennett, Harry Nye and Frank Raymond had been quietly earning their way every day. They were all within a few points of each other for fourth place.
The last race started out like the one before, only the wind was north-east about 15. There were black clouds in the north, coming right at us. We weren't going to misread this one. Let it shift the wrong way, we were ready for it.
In a big fleet like this you can hardly afford to precover. If you cover before the start, you stand an excellent chance of losing the rest of the fleet. This could give the series to the guy who is third. Stan and I apparently agreed on this, and it was the same a few weeks later in Newport, between North and me.
Stan started at the stake end, and we started about 30 yards up. I'm not trying to make this sound dramatic: what happened is history. But believe me, it only happened that way by a thread. We were gun-shy. Bill Bennett got under us and ahead of us at the start. Our boat wasn't moving worth a damn. We sagged behind Bennett. Cal Hadden and several others moved away from us like we were tied. It wasn't long before Stan tacked across, a cool 40 yards ahead of us. He tacked again to windward, but left us clear.
It was time to get the boat moving, or else. We made changes, one at a time, until finally we hit the combination. We walked up out of Bennett's backwind and about 30 yards to windward, right up under Ogilvy. Stan made about one boat-length ahead as we came up this distance. To avoid his wind shadow, we tacked. We had the advantage of a good tack, and we were moving when Stan crossed and tacked square on us. We tacked away immediately, and this was a turning point of the race.
In getting away from Stan, we sailed toward a new wind. We only went about 200 yards, then tacked back. Stan was now ahead and to leeward. Parks ahead of him to windward. The north clouds came rolling over, just like the day before, and the wind hauled around, lifting us about 10 or 15 degrees, enough for us to just lay the mark. The bulk of the fleet had gone deep to the north, and overstood. But they were sailing in more wind, barreling for the mark.
Among them were Farrand, Hadden, Knowles—and I think, Howard Lippincott. We rounded first, Parks right behind us, Stan third. I squared for the mark quickly. The others had to sail about ten lengths up, to clear the boats coming for the mark. By sailing high, these boats sailed into the first big blast of the new wind. Knowles caught a wave and roared out into the lead. In as little time as it takes to say it, we were in sixth place! Stan Ogilvy was the next boat behind us.
Then the wind worked down to us. We took off, too-only better. We hooked a wave and planed ahead, then up across the boats that had just passed us. We went high, about 30 yards to windward of Knowles, who was that distance ahead. We caught another wave and planed up abeam of Knowles. Then we locked into a grandaddy wave, right with a puff. The waves were only 3 or 4 feet high, but moving extremely fast.
The puff we caught must have been 35 m.p.h. What a ride! We skipped along the front of that wave, the hull making a sound like an automobile wheel speeding through a puddle of water. The boat yawed, dove, thundered through the water. Sometimes the boom was in the water, sometimes 5 ft. out of it.
For sheer thrills and speed, I've never had a ride to compare with this one. The trick seemed to be, keep the bow tipped over the front of the wave without plowing under the wave ahead. To do it, Billy was jockeying back and forth like a tightrope walker. We were planing so fast I was afraid to jibe off of the plane! We dropped the wave about 200 yards from the mark to prepare for the jibe. I looked behind, Knowles was still in second, but we couldn't read his numbers!
We managed a hairy jibe and started up the wind. It had hauled so far to the west that we could almost lay the mark. We were heading directly into the waves. As we pounded up and down and the others planed to the mark on the run, our lead diminished to nothing. Then I looked at the mast-and directly eased the main. It was bending fore-and-aft so far that huge wrinkles were pulled across the sail from the spreaders to the clew. We started nursing along, trying to survive. About half-way up the beat it became apparent we were no longer in the race, or in the series.
Knowles had worked up to windward so far we could hardly see him through the drizzle and spray. Worse for us though, Ogilvy was surging through the fleet. He had sailed from 8th to 2nd in half a beat! We had to do something and quick. The one thing I could think of worked. We unloaded part of the strain on the jib. This took enough com pression off the mast to let us trim the main. We got to moving again. We tacked with the mark about 5 degrees aft of the beam, figuring that we would make considerable lee-way in the trough. At the time it was perfect.
After about 5 minutes of sailing, Knowles crossed. We were much closer than we thought, he was only 50 yards ahead. The next boat to cross was Ogilvy, and he was only 5 or 6 lengths ahead. We were third. Ogilvy tacked on our beam. When he was sure he could lay the mark easily, he drove off on to our wind. Billy turned around and shouted to me, "You're not taking any chances damn it! Tack!" So we did.
We rounded third. Harry Nye fourth. There was a dandy collision right behind us, but we were too busy to see it. Chuck Barnes lost 3 feet of the tip of his spar in a collision with Bill Bennett. I told Billy, "Watch Nye". If Harry finished between Ogilvy and us, Stan would win the series. Nye got on one planer and closed to within 30 yards of us. Ten lengths ahead was nothing this day. We decided to go for broke, and risk the rig, driving hard.
We were slowly catching Stan, and figured if we could get him, that would end it for good. We got one good ride that took us up to Stan, and another that took us by. Nye, the greatest downwinder I've ever sailed against, came roaring across the finish line only a length behind Ogilvy. It was a good thing we got moving, but that last gun had sounded. Man, what a beautiful noise it made.
After the race, Howard Black told me he'd run alongside of us in his 40 ft. power cruiser. He said he was turning for 13 to 14 m.p.h. to average our speed. On the planes, Howard said we pulled away, travelling at least 18 to 20 m.p.h.!
On the way home Billy and I had something to think about. Winning made us eligible to sail on the U.S. Pan American Yachting Team. Of course, we would sail in the games; but there was something else on our minds. Pete Bennett had won our Eliminations, but had said the week before that if we won the North Americans he d let us go to Newport for the World's Championship.
Pete's generosity posed some problems for us. Billy and I had jobs. To go to the coast and sail the Pan-Americans would take four more weeks. We'd already used one week. This meant it would take a total of 5 weeks' vacation. That afternoon we were talking it over, by the beer tap. Bill Pain, from East River Fleet, was listening to all of our woes--mostly time and money.
Finally he could listen no more, and said: "You may never get a chance to do something like this again in your lifetime; don't be foolish, go!" We did. I called Bill Ficker in Newport and he accepted our last minute entry. Billy broke the news to his boss-and was promptly fired. I elected to wait till we were 2.400 miles west before I called my boss. When I did call and ask for a leave of absence he said: "Gary, anything worth doing is worth doing in excess. Go ahead."
Results
1959 NORTH AMERICAN CHAMPIONSHIP - CHICAGO Place No. Name Skipper Crew Fleet Daily Places Pts. 1 4143 Turmoil Gary Comer William Hackel JP 6 2 10 9 2 161 2 3940 Flame Stanley Ogilvy Allan MacKay WLIS 1 12 11 5 3 158 3 3871 Shrew William Parks Emmett Corley SLM 3 10 3 18 5 151 4 4110 Gale Harry G. Nye Jr Robert Halperin SLM 15 9 2 19 4 141 5 3879 Vice John Bennett James Irwin JP 10 4 18 4 14 140 6 3893 Dolphin Frank Raymond E. Raymond WH 12 8 7 6 20 137 7 4040 Desiree Herbert Hild Ken Schaffner ER 9 6 23 3 18 128 8 3743 En Garde II Cal Hadden Robert Matthews NOG 11 17 1 15 15 131 9 4072 Maverick Samuel Beard Nicholas Orr GSB 7 16 14 2 23 128 10 3200 H. Hoosier John McKeague Gordon McKeague MC 20 19 9 10 9 123 11 4039 Circus Howie LippincottWilliam Stout ER 14 21 6 12 16 121 12 4038 Cataplum Bob Lippincott Walter Flynn WJ 4 35 25 1 7 118 13 4131 Mouette Donald Bever Joe Sharpnack SLE wdr 1 12 11 10 118 14 3876 Barnstorm Charles Barnes Robert Krudener GL 2 5 20 7 dsa 118 15 3422 Audion C.L. Farrand Jr Hebry Davenport WLIS dsq 13 4 14 8 113 16 3962 Gem IV Durward Knowles Robert Levin N 5 22 16 33 1 113 17 3648 Chuckle Harold Halsted Ralph Cameron MorB 8 11 21 27 12 111 18 3848 Creepy Foster Clarke Charles Munro CH 24 3 22 31 6 104 19 4132 Wistler George Voss Gordon Hale CLE 27 15 31 13 13 101 20 3939 Antares Ellis Muther Jr Lynn Williams NOG 16 24 13 21 19 97 21 3869 Sirene Kenneth Smith Charles Gould HB 26 20 32 8 21 83 22 3713 Esprit Jack Streeton Thomas Stevens ES 13 27 15 22 dsq 75 23 4146 Maverick Blair Fletcher Jack Prestwood WJ 28 14 24 17 dsa 69 24 3100 Jade John Sherwood David Gaillard CB 21 30 17 20 dnf 64 25 4093 Jimac IV William Wente G. Vanderburgh WH 29 18 dnf 30 11 64 26 4100 Conflict Daniel Hubers Peter Sherman NCB 25 25 5 35 dnf 62 27 3726 Stampede Lorin Catlin Brian Catlin GSB 19 33 28 16 dnf 56 28 3437 Sharen Robert Asher Art Guilford CLE 32 28 27 26 22 55 29 3406 Warrior Frank McCarthy R. van Orden SDB 17 26 26 28 dns 55 30 2429 Barbaree William Bennett Ronald Sisson StJ 18 dnf 19 23 wdr 54 31 4105 Patanne Theo Goudvis Frank Zerad SLE 31 7 34 25 dnf 54 32 3376 Kurush V Al de Cardenas C. de Cardenas Mar 22 32 8 wdr dnf 52 33 3336 Cautious Paul Pennewitt Robert Vick LS 34 23 29 36 25 43 34 3191 Melody Paul H. Smart Ellis Muther CLIS 33 31 30 32 24 40 35 3085 Snallygaster Charles Stein Uwe van Below CB 23 29 wdr 24 dns 38 36 3335 Widow Tut Greening Richard Slayter LS 30 36 35 34 17 38 37 3479 J. R. Morton William Pain Peter Hein ER dnf 34 33 29 26 30
