The Sappho Race: A TILLER BREAKER

by Prentice Cushing

1992

Saturday, August 1st, was the kind of day envisioned by NYYC Commodore Robert N. Bavier, Sr. in January 1936 when he accepted twenty of the "fine New York Thirty-two stoops, well able to go offshore" as a one-design Class. Hull #9, Clotho, ordered by Henry H. Anderson, Sr., was one of the 45'4" LOA, 10'7" beam, 6'6" draft yachts sporting a man-killing 1000 square- foot mainsail (after all, there were accommodations forward for two paid hands).

Renamed Salty, NY32 #9 headed for the starting line of the SAPPHO race; Skipper Past-Commodore "Skip" Bardey, on time for once, was surprised to be all alone. Eventually, Margaret E. appeared and Commodore Jay Abullarage announced that he had diabolically included a looping mark in the course, insuring that jibing problems would ensue.

The 30-knot breeze (gusts to 40, some say), a full main, and small jib pushed Salty onward beautifully and, while watching some go-fast yachts tearing up spinnakers, we realized once again that Rod Stephens and the Nevins Yacht Yard did know a thing or two about sailing yachts. The second mark found us five minutes behind the leader, who owed us an estimated 17 minutes on corrected time (scratch sheets were in the same category as Sailing Instructions non-existent). When we arrived at the infamous jibe mark we were less than three minutes behind and savoring the sure-to-come victory of the 56-year old Lady. Alas, age showed up in the form of an over-stressed tiller which broke trying to overcome a monster main and small jib which weren't cooperating in heading off the wind. "Bang" went the string of Skip's heart as another Sappho trophy eluded him. Moral victories are fine, but silverware is better; anyway, it was a great sail.  

History does repeat itself, though. Examine the records of the America's Cup series of 1871. On October 19th Columbia, one of the defenders, carried away her flying jib-boom in a strong Westerly. This gave her a bad weather helm and her steering broke on the last leg, necessitating a finish with a furled main. Hence it was that the alternate defender Sappho was called out two days later, when she easily defeated Livonia. Two days later, on October 23rd, she again won, in a fresh westerly, by 25 1/2 minutes on a 40 mile course, making William P. Douglas the Cup winner. The race was followed by an acrimonious protest by loser James Ashbury, an occurrence which always detracts a bit from the supposed camaraderie of racing sailors.

Now, 121 years later, my arrival partying back at the Club was dampened a bit by the necessity of presiding at a protracted Protest Committee hearing, but I guess that's what old-goat racing judges are for. As it turned out, the race was won on the water, not in the protest room. Isn't that the way it should be?