Pt 1.34 – The classic US one designs

Another apology; the only boats I’ve ever sailed in the USA are a Farr 52 and the 12 Metre Weatherly. I’ve had no experience at all with US dinghy sailing. But with any history that ranges widely through time and space, there are many times when you just have to research, interview and hope you get it right. Any feedback and corrections will be gratefully received.

 

The Snipe, first of the great American one design dinghies, emerged in 1931. It was the fourth year of the Great Depression. A quarter of the US workforce was unemployed. It may have seemed like the worst possible time to introduce something as frivolous as a sailing dinghy. But the Snipe not only became the world’s most popular dinghy, but also set the pattern for the later boats that created the great 1950s boom in dinghy sailing.

The Snipe was designed by Rudder magazine editor William F Crosby for a new development class in Florida that could be “towed about the state from regatta to regatta”.  The proposed class had few rules – a limit of 100 sq ft of sail and 16′ overall length – but rather than go for a racing machine, Crosby designed the Snipe with economy and ease of construction as the keywords.  “The idea throughout was to have a boat that could be built for the minimum amount of money” he wrote later.

By keeping the length down to 15ft 6in Crosby ensured that the Snipe could be made from standard 16ft planks. Given that Crosby felt that “most amateurs have a deadly fear of steam bending wood” hard chine construction was another obvious choice because it did away with steam-bent timbers and spiled planks.

The article that launched 31,000 ships – the original piece in Rudder magazine for July 1931.

 

Even by the standards of the 1930s, the Snipe has a lot of rocker and Vee, which was something of a Crosby trademark. “The vee-bottom boat with a well-rockered chine, steep forward sections under the chine, and the transom or stern well up out of the water to prevent drag, will give an ideal form of sailing hull” he wrote in later years. “The steep forward sections will give a good entering wedge and the well-rockered chine will make these sections possible, at the same time permitting passing water to flow aft with the least possible resistance. The stern as mentioned will permit this water to leave the hull without pulling a large stern wave and, if properly designed, such a hull will be far faster…than any round bottomed type.”

Crosby was aware that a hull with lots of rocker and vee “if driven at speed will suck down at the stern causing a great deal of resistance and lost power.” He probably felt that given the Snipe’s weight and role, it was worth trading off planing performance for seaworthiness, light wind speed and upwind performance. Versatility was a key, for the Snipe had to be “capable of sailing in almost any waters from protected inland lakes to the open ocean. ” It may also be significant that the Snipe’s hull looks generally similar to that of existing Florida dinghies, like the Cricket development class or the St Petersburg One Design.

Crosby may have been influenced by the design of big yachts. He felt that a heavy centreboard was “desirable on nearly all types” because of the stability it created, and  when he created the similar but larger National One Design he proudly told Thistle designer Gordon Douglass that she was just like a baby International Six Metre. Some say that the modern Snipe still has the feel of a small yacht.

The first Snipe sailplan as shown in the Rudder. Note the “Trailer Class” sail insignia, original large cockpit and the small jib that was used to keep the sail area within the 100 sq ft limit of the Trailer Class. Crosby later wrote that this “foolish little working jib was not entirely satisfactory” and a few years later when the Trailer Class failed to take off (“only a few were built and most were freaks”, he claimed, although the class survived into the ’50s) an overlapping genoa was fitted to increase the Snipe’s sail area. It proved faster in exhaustive testing and was phased in over two years, as the old jibs were replaced. This was the only major change in the class’ early years.

There was a hint of yacht-type construction in the Snipe, too. At the time, the normal way to plug the seams between planks in a lightweight dinghy hull was to fit “seam battens”, consisting of a strip of timber running along the inside of each seam. Crosby took the simpler option of leaving the seam battens off and simply running caulking between the seams, as in a yacht – but that meant he had to provide thick 19mm (3/4in) planking to hold the cotton caulking. The hull weighed a hefty 204kg (450lb) until the ‘70s, and today it still measures in at 159kg (351lb). The Snipe’s extra weight did not concern Crosby, who felt that boats could often be too light.  “Weight either in the hull or in the shape of ballast will permit the boat to keep headway in a chop and in light airs she will be able to hold her way much longer between vagrant puffs” he claimed.

The Snipe’s distinctive high boom came about partly for safety and partly because Crosby intended the main to be carried high in light winds (to reach the stronger winds above the water) and lower down in the breeze. It was soon found that the higher position was better all-round.  Crosby trialled a taller rig in his own boat before returning to the standard sailplan, but he ruled out spinnakers for reasons of economy.

The Snipe was launched in Rudder magazine of July 1931. The Rudder’s designs had often been popular across the world and the article confidently predicted that “it is expected that a great many “Snipes” will be built during the summer and winter”, but not even Crosby could believe the way the readership took the humble little Snipe to heart. This was not a high-performance design like the famous Rudder Lark and Swallow of earlier times, or a cruiser like the old Sea Bird, but every copy of that month’s magazine sold out, and the office was besieged with requests for reprints.

The grinding misery of the Depression may actually have helped the Snipe class grow so quickly. Work was so rare that it had become something prized, even when it was not paid. “Both the unemployed and the under-employed needed to fill the hours that had once been devoted to work” notes social historian Steven M Gelber “ and those who had full-time jobs may not have had more leisure but they frequently had less money, so they too needed new ways to occupy non-work hours that were less expensive than commercial entertainment.”[1]

To the victims of the Depression, a hobby like building and sailing a Snipe was an antidote to a wounded work ethic. To the wider society, a productive hobby was something to be encouraged, lest idle hands seek escape in distractions like gangster movies, bars and marathon dancing competitions. Magazines and social commentators praised and prized hobbies as a productive and moral way to pass time. Even the rich were caught up in the home handyman craze, and the popular press featured tales of the home workshops of company presidents. To sailors and dreamers of the world, the Snipe presented an affordable way to spend time constructively and to achieve the dream of getting afloat.

Snipe Number 1, Adelaide, was built in three weeks “under the dense shade of live oaks near our work shop” by 14 year old Jimmie Brown, his father and friends. She was launched on August 2, just a few weeks after the plans were published. “She sure handles sweet and is the prettiest ever” said Jimmie in a letter to The Rudder of October. “I find the Snipe is a real boat with all the qualities of a Star for a boy my age”.

Adelaide, Star No 1, was the property of 14 year old Jimmie Brown, seen on the right in these photographs that accompanied his proud letter to The Rudder of October 1931. Her sails were cut down from a donated set of Star sails. Adelaide still survives as museum piece (below, from the class site). Note the original large cockpit.

With feedback from his readers, Crosby developed the design over the next few months. He reduced the cockpit size, to make “it possible to use the boats in very bad water which would fill an ordinary open cockpit boat of this size”. But there was one thing that he insisted on, time and time again – once the final design was developed there would be no more alterations.  The earlier Rudder designs like the Swallow and Lark had spread across the globe. Letter after letter was published in the magazine with enthusiastic tales of their performance, their building – and the alterations the owners had made to them. Those who built earlier Larks, Swallows and other Rudder designs seemed unable to resist the temptation to modify them, and they never formed widespread one design classes.

Early Snipes as pictured in the Rudder for June 1934. The pic below is one of quite a few showing early Snipes being sailed very poorly. I’m not sure whether the skipper was trying to show how forgiving the boat was or whether he was really a beginner. Personally I’ve started to enjoy seeing badly sailed boats, because they seem to be showing that the sport is attracting new blood.

 

 

Crosby was obviously determined that the Snipe should not fall into the same trap, and throughout the development process he was “constantly adding measurement guidelines as his friends found loopholes in the design.” Perhaps because the Star class had provided the model, the old pre-war concept that each region or club needed its own design, or its own version of a design, was gone. New technology like the boat trailers that the Snipe was designed for had opened up the possibility of easy inter-club racing.  Crosby demanded that every racing Snipe, from Western Long Island Sound to Western Australia, should conform strictly to the class rules. “Your proud new Snipe for which you paid a goodly sum of money would not be worth ten cents if it were not kept in style by restrictions and if you don’t like ’em and have plenty of money, enter a restricted class instead of a one-design” he told class members who were keen on tweaking his design. “After all, sail boat racing is a game of skill and is not like power boat racing where most regattas are won in the machine shop weeks before the race.”

Within three years of its launch there were 800 Snipes afloat, and the Snipe was on its way to becoming the world’s most popular dinghy.  By March 1933, the class had spread internationally with a fleet in Dover, and just four years later, it claimed the title of world’s most popular racing class. Following the lead of the International Star, Crosby led the organisation of an efficient class, including a ranking based on local fleet racing so that “it is possible for boats in Oshkosh to compete with the boats in England without actually coming into competition or seeing the other fellow.”

“Low cost plus speed and sport have made these little fifteen foot six knockabouts known all over the world” Crosby wrote proudly in 1934. “Good appearance has also helped but the most important reasons of all is because these little craft are built to strict one-design restrictions and owners who have tried to bring in expensive refinements and make other changes, which would antiquate many of the older boats, have been voted down.” It was a far cry from the thinking just 25 years before, when it was accepted that each one design fleet was restricted to its own locale.

By 1947, the year when a new breed of homebuilt dinghies arrived, the Snipe was holding world championships in Europe and had become a sophisticated racing boat. Snipes were racing in North and South America, in England, in loosely-organised pockets in Australia, and in Asia. In Germany it had inspired the similar Pirat, which was on its way to becoming the most popular youth class in northern Europe.

 

The Snipe has never been a particularly fast or a light boat, even by the standards of earlier decades. The weight and heavy stern rocker reduce its speed, but makes it docile to handle and contribute to the close racing and “feel” that makes Snipe sailors love their boat. It is, they say, the tactical dinghy per excellence, with superb balance and handling. “I often describe the boat as an ultra light keelboat, which describes the feel” says a British Sniper. “The boats are impressive in very light conditions, and yet in 20 knots of wind nearly the whole fleet is still concentrating on tactics rather than speed and survival.”

The Snipe, wrote world champion and Olympian Gary Hoyt, was “one of the most misunderstood boats, often held in quite low esteem by yachtsmen who consider it to be old-fashioned and low in performance….the quickest cure for the critics and the cynics alike would be to put them in a modern Snipe in a competitive fleet. The cynics would find the Snipe a very responsive boat, and the critics would probably find themselves badly in the tank.”

When I was growing up as a kid in Sydney, with Moths mouldering in the yard, Frank Bethwaite sailing his experimental proas out front and strong fleets of development-class skiffs and dinghies dotting the harbour, most of the little I knew of Snipes came from the pages of a 1950s library book titled Scientific Sailboat Racing, by world champion Ted Wells. In the Antipodes the Snipe was then seen as an American oddity, and legends like gold medallist Peter Mander, who admitted that Well’s book gave a valuable insight into tuning, publicly called Crosby’s design “dull”.  What sort of person, I used to wonder with the arrogance of youth, could have enjoyed sailing the heavy boat revealed in those black and white photos of low-speed tactical sailing in Wells’ book? Could anyone who was interested in technology and design have enjoyed a Snipe?

An illustration from Ted Well’s Scientific Sailboat Racing. From snipefleet24.org

The answer, it turned out, was a very loud yes. Wells was not just the first Snipe World Champion, but also one of the greatest aircraft designers of his day. He had built his own plane as a teenager, before becoming the very first student at the prestigious Princeton University to qualify as an aeronautical engineer. While still at university he bought an old biplane and became a professional “barnstormer” before winning the Transcontinental National Air Race and becoming a test pilot and chief engineer.

In 1932, just as the Snipe was spreading its wings, Wells led the design of the iconic Beech Staggerwing; a technologically advanced private plane that was fast enough to win air races and luxurious enough to attract business flyers. Despite the fact that he was an intuitive designer rather than a master of structural analysis, Wells followed up with the design of the enormously successful and advanced twin-engined Beech 18 and oversight of the famous Vee-tail Bonanza, which have each held the record for the longest continuous production run in aviation history. Other high-tech Snipe sailors included top-class boatbuilder Carl Eichenlaub and yacht designer German Frers Snr, whose son became one of the great designers of the IOR era, who introduced the class to Argentina. That arrogant question of my youth got a clear answer – yes, people who were interested in design and technology could relish the cut and thrust and meticulous nature of Snipe sailing.

The Staggerwing – an iconic aircraft designed by outstanding sailor Ted Wells, photographed by Sports Illustrated folding sails in his living room below.

Wells, who had started sailing in a small (35 member) club at little lake in Kansas that sometimes dried up in droughts, told Sports Illustrated that the appeal of the Snipe was the competition created by its big fleets; “you get so much interfleet competition in the Snipe class that it gives us a much higher proportion of very good skippers than any other class can claim”. The competition attracted Wells so much that he retired from Beechcraft under pressure in 1953 after he was called to a management meeting from a Snipe regatta. His sin, allegedly, was that he had become more interested in sailing Snipes than in designing leading edge aircraft.

The Snipe seems to have set the pattern for the boats that later created the great international boom in several ways. For one, it had promotion from the media. Secondly, it caught on with wider pressures and trends in society. Thirdly, it did not pretend to be a scorching high-speed machine but it was fast enough, safe and it sailed well. Fourthly, it was easy to build. Fifth, it was able to attract a wide range of sailors. As Crosby noted in 1934, “the Snipe class is particularly interesting because it is not confined to any one area or sailed by any one type of skipper….you will see these little boats being raced by youngsters from twelve to seventy years of age…many clubs have already adopted the class for teaching junior sailors…”. But the Snipe sailors were diverse not just in age, but also in location. “Outside of junior activities, though, the most interesting development of all lies in the fact that through Snipes, yacht racing has been brought to many localities where such sport has never before been enjoyed” wrote Crosby. The old model, where US one designs were limited to one club or region had been exploded. Here was something novel in dinghy sailing – a truly worldwide class.

The Snipe was soon followed by a stream of slightly bigger boats in the same general style of heavy hard-chine one-design. A couple of years later, the 16’ Comet (designed by a Star world champ for a mother who was looking for a boat for her sons, and originally called the Star Junior) and the 18’ Interlake (designed by Star draftsman Francis Sweisguth) arrived. Both followed the Star style of hard chine arc-bottomed hull and big rig, which was fitting since the Star was the first class to show US sailors the true potential of the one design concept. In 1938, the Lightning hit the scene. Like the Snipe, all were simple hard chine boats with sawn frames, all were cheap and easy to build, and most were run by associations that tried to spread the class far and wide. The Interlake and Lightning remain strong classes today. For many years, boats of this style formed the backbone of dinghy racing in the USA.

The Comet once claimed 125 fleets in the USA. A 1932 article in Yachting Magazine claimed that the arc-bottomed hull (below) was a combination of a Star and a Chesapeake bay skipjack.

 

 

As American sailor George Moffatt wrote for a British audience in 1961, these typical US one designs were a product of “weather, water and economics (which) all tend to emphasize a larger, heavier and less manoeuvrable boat than finds acceptance in England.”  The light airs common through most of the North American summer encourage big rigs, and perhaps means that planing performance is less of a consideration.  The water tends to be cold; even in California the ocean is chilled by currents flowing down from the Arctic. Andy Dovell, a former New Englander turned Australian yacht and skiff design, recalls how geography affected the dinghy sailors of his homeland. “Even when when you’re racing in the summertime, the water’s cold, so they tend to sail boats that don’t tip in quite so easily.”  As L. Francis Herreshoff noted, the short, tippy British style of dinghy would turn off US sailors as soon as “their ardour has been somewhat cooled by a swamping or capsizing a 14 in cold water.”

North America has huge expanses of semi-protected waterways, which encouraged big, dry and stable boats that were designed more for family day sailing than racing. “In New England where there’s lots of interesting geography to explore, performance of the boat isn’t so important. Every day you can explore a different harbor and have a new experience with any type of boat” explains Bob Johnstone, who marketed dinghies like the Laser and Sunfish before he became a partner of the hugely successful “J/Boat” yacht company.  But in some of the most densely populated and influential areas, most sailors live in cities located some distance away from their sailing grounds. Even the keenest racers cannot always practice on weekday afternoons like sailors in other areas can. “When I look back, I remember that the helmsmen were all pretty skilled, but they were all guys who had jobs in the city” Dovell remembers. “They hadn’t grown up on the water every afternoon, they had only ever sailed on weekends their whole life. You can’t have a bunch of workaday guys who race just on the weekends, sailing a (tippy high-performance) skiff in cold water.”

Many of the one designs also had to be stable enough to live on moorings, because a shortage of waterfront public space means that getting access to the waterfront is difficult in many parts of the USA. “Access to the water has a lot to do with boat type” notes Ben Fuller, former curator of the famous Mystic Seaport maritime museum. “Most of the New England clubs developed in a mooring environment, and many still do not have space for dinghy parks. What happens to boats when they are not being used is in many ways more important than the boats in use.”

In the middle of the 19th century the USA was the wealthiest society on earth, and sailors tended to be rich even by US standards. The sport still felt the echoes of the 19th century clashes that killed classes like the sandbaggers and Delaware Hikers and pushed the working class out of the sport. In the US, even dinghy sailing was the preserve of the successful middle class and the wealthy, and American sailors had the money to buy big dinghies, the money to own big garages to build and store them, and the big cars to tow them.

Another historical hangover meant that sliding seats and trapezes were frowned upon despite the big rigs that many US one designs carried. “There were long-set bad reactions to shifting ballast boats like sandbaggers and hikers” explains Ben Fuller. So North American boats compensated for their big rigs by having extra form stability, heavy construction, and carrying more crew. Popular dinghies like Thistles and Lightnings carry three crew, and even cat-rigged boats like the little Frostbite classes or the 20’ M Scow and 12’ Butterfly scow often carry two sailors.

 

The Lightning remains one of the most popular classes in the USA. So why is this pic showing a Finnish boat? Because the Lightning is one of three indigenous US classes (the others being the Snipe and E Scow) that are sailed in Finland and I wonder what the connection is., that’s why. Pic from the WB Sails site; an excellent place to go for interesting information on aerodynamics and sails.

Once these factors helped the big, heavy hard-chine one-design style catch on in the US northeast, the heartland of North American sailing, it spread throughout the continent. Legendary “establishment” sailors like “Corny” Shields told their readers that planing boats were only for expert racing fanatics, and they listened. “The influence of the northeast yachting establishment was huge” says Fuller. “These boats set the scene for much of North American sailing”.

Probably the final factor that established the classic American classes was a national passion for one design sailing. The excesses of the development classes, from Sandbaggers to Frostbiters, may have pushed sailors towards strict rules. Some say that the American work ethic suits one design classes; victory comes from perfecting technique and equipment, whereas in development or high-performance classes it can come through left-field design ideas or “seat of the pants” boathandling.

The Interlake was designed by Star class draughtsman Francis Sweisguth and the heritage is easy to see. At 84 years of age the class is still what it has always tried to be – a strong local class in the Midwest.

 

As sailors like Dennis Conner and George Moffatt said, the steady moderate winds and strong one design fleets led American sailors to put an emphasis on the finer details of tuning and technology that saw them dominate Olympic sailing for decades.  “In the department of techniques and technical innovation we Americans have always felt that we have had something of an edge” wrote Moffatt. “On our long, open and usually tideless courses boat speed is vital….  true, we have not had excellent small boat designers like Fox or Proctor, but we have had many superb builders such as Robert Lippincott, John Nichols, Skip Etchells and others who have been willing to try endless refinements of shape and gear.”

The lure of this highly developed one design racing has kept many of the older classes – the ones which could establish the first major fleets – on top in popularity ever since. The appeal of one design principle also ensures that there have been few moves to harm the equality of the fleets by updating the designs. It creates highly competitive racing that often lead to advances in the nuances of rig, gear, sails, and technique. The downside is that there has been little room for development in basic design. Only in the US would a 70 year old, 127kg (280lb) 16 footer still be advertised as “modern” and “light weight” in the 21^st century. But these boats remain popular because they suit their designed purpose admirably, and they provide great racing in durable boats that last for many decades.

 

 

“The vee-bottom boat with a well-rockered chine”:- this and many other quotes from Crosby about the Snipe design is from his book “Amateur Boatbuilding”, Rudder Publishing Company C 1941

“”capable of sailing in almost any waters from protected inland lakes to the open ocean.”:- Crosby in ‘Snipes’ in “Sail Boating” Gerald White. NY 1954.

“The idea throughout was to have a boat that could be built for the minimum amount of money”:- “Sail Boating”

[1] “A job you can’t lose: work and hobbies in the great depression” Steven M Gelber, Joiurnal of Social History, June 1 1991

“Crosby knew that the boat would have to handle all conditions, from light-wind inland lakes to the windy Gulf coast.” Snipe News Winter 2011

“Crosby later wrote that this “foolish little working jib was not entirely satisfactory”:- the Jib Sheet Feb 1946. In the same article he noted that the only other change made in the class for many years was allowing a centreboard instead of a daggerboard at the request of early adopters Minnefords and Indian Harbour YC.

“constantly adding measurement guidelines as his friends found loopholes in the design”. Snipe News Winter 2011

“”Low cost plus speed and sport have made these little fifteen foot six knockabouts known all over the world”.  ‘800 boats in three years’ Rudder June 1934.

“makes it possible to use the boats in very bad water”; ‘800 boats in three years’ Rudder June 1934.

“Your proud new Snipe:’  The Jib Sheet

“”one of the most misunderstood boats, often held in quite low esteem by yachtsmen who consider it to be old-fashioned and low in performance” Go for the Gold, Gary Hoyt, 1971

“”You get so much interfleet compettion in teh Snipe class ” Sports Illustrated

“”weather, water and economics (which) all tend to emphasize a larger, heavier and less manoeuvrable boat than finds acceptance in England.” ‘The American Scene’ by George Moffatt in The Dinghy Year Book 1961, Richard Creagh-Osbourne (ed)

Information from Bob Johnson, Andy Dovell and Ben Fuller from personal correspondence and interviews.

 

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Pt 1.25: The myths and legends of the 18 Footers

 

Note – this post doesn’t include any information from Robin Elliott’s “Galloping Ghosts” or Ian Smiths “The Open Boat”, which could probably be called the Bibles when it comes to 18 Footers. I’ve got huge respect for both authors and the reasons I haven’t quoted from them are simple – firstly, I try to rely on my own research for blogs rather than taking too much from other modern researchers, partly to try to create my own slant and partly because I don’t like leaning too hard on the shoulders of others. Secondly, I’ve been too slack to get copies of them yet! For those who are fascinated by the history of the 18s, both books seem like a ‘must read’ item.

 

In both myths and legends, the 18 Footers dominate Australian dinghy sailing. The normal tale is that Sydney Harbour’s 18 Foot Skiffs, sailed hard by wild waterfront workers, were the fastest and most radical craft afloat for decades. It was the 18 Footers, it’s said, that broke up a sailing scene that was the pinnacle of conservatism by innovations such as handicap starts and sail insignia. The Sydney Harbour 18 Foot Skiffs, the legends say, were interested in pure and simple performance and they had had just two rules – “they had to be 18 Feet long, and the races start at 2 o’clock.”

The truth is neither pure or simple, and the history of the early 18 Footer class has become shrouded in myths.  The famous early 18 Footers were not called skiffs – to most of the 18 Footer sailors, “skiff” was almost an insult. They weren’t even Sydney Harbour boats per se – the city of Brisbane was equally vital to the early history of 18 Footers. They not only had class rules, but they fought to the death – or at least to the death of clubs – to maintain them. And of course they don’t even all start at 2:00; pursuit racing has long been a feature of the class, and arguments over starting times have caused the entire Sydney fleet to boycott a national titles.

Bill Golding’s Yvonne was one of the best of the early 18s. Built in 1895, she was 8ft in beam – over a foot wider than boats of a year or two before, but narrower than those of a year or two later. Above: William Hall pic from Australian National Maritime Museum Flickr. Below……errr Sydney Mail, I think.

The 18 Footers are one of the world’s great classes, but the reality is more complex and more nuanced than the myths and legends. It is not a tale of rollicking radicals battling conservatives, or hard-driving working sailors who threw away all the rules. It’s a story of a class that, like any other, had to deal with the tensions between development and conservation, between performance and practicality, and between development and maintaining an existing fleet. The reality tells us far more about our sport than the myth.

The 18 Footer class seems to have had pretty humble origins. In the 1880s there was a scattering of 18 foot long open boats racing in Sydney regattas and clubs under a variety of loose rules. Some raced in classes with restricted beams, some raced with husband-and-wife crews, others competed against 19 Footers with handicaps based on length. In 1893, the old restrictions faded away and a class limited only by a length of 18 ft (5.5m) “came into prominence” in Sydney . “The reason probably lies in the fact that they are built and fitted out at little more expense than is attached to the l6ft. dinghies, which they seem likely to supplant altogether” an 1894 paper noted. “Moreover, they are easily handled with a small crew, and, as for speed, they have shown themselves little wonders in anything like moderate weather.”  In the same year the 18 Footers were said to be “more numerous than any other class in Port Jackson”, and the Port Jackson Sailing Club’s 18 Footer races became so popular that spectators grumbled against being “jammed together like sardines” alongside a bookmaker on the spectator ferry.

 

Another Hall pic from the ANMM Flickr collection, this seems to show Yvonne (to left) and Aztec. Although their booms are pretty impressive, these early boats with narrow beam (about 7 to 8ft) carried much smaller downwind sails or “extras” than later 18s. The squaresails were soon replaced by earlier spinnakers, apparently to the great relief of the forward hands who no longer had to hoist the heavy yards. The sailmakers may have soon compensated by cutting bigger spinnakers!

Classes surged and faded regularly in Sydney, and the 18s may well have followed the 20 Footers, the 19 Footers and the unrestricted 16 Footers into oblivion in a season or two. What may have saved them was the fact that since the 1880s, an 18 Footer class had been developing in the city of Brisbane in Queensland, the other main home of the Open Boats. The rivalry that developed between the two fleets seems to have done much to strengthen the class in its early days.

Although the 18 Footers have become synonymous with Sydney Harbour, for many years the city of Brisbane in Queensland was responsible for many of the developments in the class. This is Britannia (no relation to the Sydney 18 of the same name) which won the second “Intercolonial” championship in January 1896, before the nation of Australia was formed. Britannia was 9 ft wide, showing how quickly the Brisbane fleet adopted the beamy “troopship” design that the 22 Footers and smaller Dinghies had already explored. Oxley Library pic.

 

In 1895, the first Intercolonial championship between the Sydney and Brisbane fleets was raced. It was, in many ways, an amazing feat to commence an annual “national” championship spanning 475 nautical miles in a sparsely-settled area at a time when almost no other class in the world held a similar event, and before the colonies had come together to form a nation.  The annual battle of Sydney against the Queensland fleet (and, for a brief period, the West Australians) may have been vital, for despite the myths that refer to the “Sydney 18 Footers”, the northerners led many of the major developments in the class. The early Sydney 18 Footers carried big rigs, but on a comparatively narrow hull of around 6′ 1″ to 7′ in beam. A pic of the early boat Aztec on Ian Smith’s wonderful Open Boat site shows a slender skiff-like hull with a square sail for downwind legs. In contrast, Brisbane champion Britannia was a full 9ft wide, and the Queenslanders claim to have led the way to developing the beamier boats that are the star in so many ageing photos.

The early 18 Footers were not, as sometimes claimed, the fastest thing afloat. When Queensland’s Britannia won the 1896 Intercolonial championship she was rated three minutes slower per race than the best 22 Footers, and only 90 seconds faster than a dinghy-type 16 footer. On long courses, 18s could receive 10 minutes start from the 22s. But the 18s were fast enough, and they were cheaper and more practical than the bigger Open Boats.  “The cost is inconsiderable when compared with the outlay on a 24-footer, which in some instances runs into just half the sum that the 40-rater Volunteer was sold for to the Now Zealanders last season” said one paper when explaining the 18 Footer’s growth. “Then the small crews for the 18-footers are easily obtained and kept together, not by any means an unimportant item in racing.”

The convenient size and the Intercolonial competition made the early 18s into a major class. The man that made them into a legend was Mark Foy.  Foy was an ideas man, a passionate Open Boat fan, and he had money. As one writer said, Foy “the lavish patron of open-boat sailing, made things boom. The big fields and splendid contest were practically due to his organisation and liberality.”

In 1891 Foy formed the Sydney Flying Squadron Yacht Club. Foy’s concept was to attract more paying spectators, and to use the profits for the cash prizes that the expensive Open Boats needed to survive.  At first, he intended to attract paying spectators to a beach (instead of the usual viewing platform of “a crowded smokey steamer”) where they would be entertained by a band as well as the sailing. The Squadron even applied to have one of the harbour’s main islands turned over to their exclusive use so that it could erect buildings and charge for tickets for prizemoney, and “also that the rowdy element might be excluded”; an interesting comment given the myths that the 18s were the preserve of the tough working man. The profits would go to the owners, increasing prize money from 5 to 12 pounds per race up to 30.

Foy’s plan also called for several short triangular courses in view of the spectators each race day; a big change from the usual courses that ran up the harbour and out of sight. He also planned handicap starts to ensure a close and exciting finish. It was, in fact, not a new idea – even the English Royal Yacht Squadron had done the same eons before. Foy had got the Johnstones Bay Sailing Club to use the system, and the SASC adopted it the same day as the SFS.

To ensure that the spectators could easily tell the boats apart, Foy required them to carry coloured sails.  Early accounts make it clear that at first, even the Open Boat sailors objected, just as they had earlier complained when regatta organisers required them to “disfigure” their sails with “most objectionable black numbers”. Foy had to stand firm, using the example of “the harbor of Venice, where the gondolas, with their colored sails, formed the most pleasing feature in the lovely scene in that delightful bay”. Perhaps one reason the sailors preferring all-white sails was an economic one – the insignia cost about two weeks’ wages for the average worker.

The initial rules required boats to use striped sails when racing and to have another plain set for all other sailing. They also had to carry all downwind sails when finishing. Both rules seem to have been indications that the SFS was happy to introduce rules that satisfied the audience – this was not a wild “damn the rules” organisation for hard driving wildmen as often implied, but a businesslike plan to attract an audience in order to subsidise the expense of racing the boats.

Although it’s been said that the Sydney Flying Squadron was exclusively for 18 Footers, in both its incarnations the early fleets were mainly larger boats. This pic shows the 24 Footer Volunteer leading the fleet in a race in 1891. On the short courses that the SFS sailed the 18 Footers were normally given about two minutes handicap from the 22s, 24s, Raters and Mark Foy’s cat Flying Fish, which incidentally was generally no faster than the monos.  National Archives of Australia photo.

 

Although the Sydney Flying Squadron name has become became synonymous with the 18 Footers, originally there was going to be “no distinction made as to the class of boats joining the club”, and the early plans called for racing for groups as diverse as 24 Footers, canvas dinghies, singlehanders, professionals and women. The 18 Footers were just another small group to be catered for.

The first race was a success for the club. Nearly 1100 spectator tickets were bought. In the early races, the race for fastest time was normally fought out by the 22 and 24 Footers in the “big boat” class. The plans to cater for smaller boats seem to have fallen away, and the 14s and 18s in the “small boat class” raced at a different time and seem to have been in the shadow of the big boats.

In a famous confrontation, within weeks the organisers of Sydney’s top event, the National Regatta (now the Australia Day regatta) decided to exclude boats carrying sail emblems. There’s a popular myth that the regatta organisers were from the “conventional yachting establishment” who were more interested in “the dignity of the sport” than innovations or spectators. Nothing could be further from the truth. Detailed accounts of the day show that most of those on the organising committee who pushed for the ban were members of Open Boat clubs. The organising committee, who depended on public donations and their own wallets for the four hundred pounds needed for organisation and prizes, had been trying innovations to make the event more spectator friendly for years before the Flying Squadron was formed.  They had required rowers to wear distinctive club colours, and in 1887 they had required the sailing boats to carry sail numbers for the benefit of spectators – an unheard of thing at the time. Both the Open Boat men and the yachtsmen had objected to “disfiguring” their sails in such a way, and a number of the top “yachties” had withdrawn from the regatta in protest.

While reports of the committee meetings show that some members did believe that the coloured sails would “lower the standing of aquatic sport”, the big issue was that they saw the SFS as a commercial operation set up to encourage gambling.  Today it’s easy to think that gambling on watersports was a light hearted business. The truth is that at the time Australia’s number one aquatic sport was not sailing but rowing, and rowing was showing what happened when gamblers got involved in watersport.

Rowing’s appeal as a spectator sport around the turn of the century made even the Flying Squadron’s races look like an underground sport.

 

Rowing’s status around the turn of the century made sailing look like small beer. Australians dominated the world professional rowing title, champions were national idols, and crowds of over 90,000 were reported at events. But the crowds were partly attracted by gambling, and gambling attracted cheating.  In one famous incident in Brisbane in 1888 the world champion Henry Searle backed another competitor to win a race and ensured that it happened by interfering with a former world champion. Sports historian John O’Hara has said that such scams meant that around the turn of the century the support for rowing almost collapsed “largely to do with scandals resulting from corruption or perceived corruption, to do with betting.”  As the papers of the era noted “it is when races are ruled by the betting market and when men are unashamed to use unfair tactics that the public draws off and turns its attention to other forms of amusement.”

Sailing, where a race could be lost on purpose with a quick capsize, a missed shift or fiddling with the rig, was ripe to be exploited by professional gamblers or crooked sailors, and the men of the SFS put up a weak defence to the allegations.  Some publicly admitted that it occurred at all sailing events (including those for large yachts) and for decades afterwards the “bookie” was an accepted, albeit illegal, fixture aboard the spectator ferries.

The men of the regatta committee may have sincerely thought that the SFS was a front for gambling that could harm the sport. They may also have been playing politics, protecting their own Open Boat clubs by putting the SFS down. Whatever their true motivation, when they insisted on banning coloured sails they played for high stakes. The Flying Squadron was flush with cash from men like Foy.  “The squadron had money behind them, and if it took 2000 pounds they would make their club the finest in the world” a Flying Squadron spokesman thundered defiantly at a “public indignation meeting”. Most of the Open Boat sailors of Sydney boycotted the traditional regatta and turned instead to a rival one organised by the SFS on the same day.

 

 

The myth says that the SFS regatta was so successful that the regatta organisers changed their mind and allowed coloured sails from then on. The truth is rather different. The traditional regatta had attracted reasonable fleets, but blaming old debts, rowing politics, the passion of horse racing and “the spirit of gambling had taken such hold of the community, that it had banished all love of honest manly sport as far as rowing and sailing were concerned”, the regatta committee disintegrated soon afterwards. The coloured sail controversy seems to have been a side issue.

The victory over the regatta organisers has become a symbol that Foy had made sailing into a spectator sport and dumbfounded those who predicted that the Flying Squadron would not last. He hadn’t. When Foy went on a world trip in early 1892, the club that was to be “the finest in the world” promptly disintegrated without his personal attention. Meanwhile, Sydney’s two Royal Yacht Clubs stepped in to revive the ancient annual regatta and allowed Foy’s men to use their coloured sails. The irony is that Foy’s fight over coloured sails fight appears to have helped the “establishment yachties” to take control of the country’s biggest regatta from the Open Boat men.

The official notice of the end of the Sydney Flying Squadron Yacht Club, two years after formation.

 

The insinkable Foy revived the Sydney Flying Squadron (minus the “Yacht Club” tag, and with smaller sail insignia) on his return to Australia. The revival may have come close to killing off the 18s, for Fay had decided that his new Squadron would not cater for boats under 20 feet. He changed his mind, he said, only when he found that “the 18-footers, of which there were now seven in the harbor, would be an important class next year”. If Foy had kept to his original plan, the 18s may have vanished alongside the 19 Footers, the open 16 Footers and many other Open Boat classes.

 

Arline, one the top 18s of the early 1900s. 18 Footer expert Ian Smith, author of The Open Boat, notes that her famous skipper resigned after being accused of being influenced by bookmakers.  Smith notes that when she was known as Australia (II) in 1909, she carried a total of 1882 sq ft of sail, with a main of 455 sq ft hanging from a 27ft 6in boom, jib of 170, topsail of 63 sq ft, ringtail 384 sq ft, balloon reaching jib 350 sq ft, and spinnaker of 630 sq ft. Her beam was 8ft 2in. Pic from Australian Star, 21 May 1904

 

With support from the SFS and other clubs, the 18s finally became the hottest class of the harbour.  Thousands of people packed the spectator ferries each weekend, and the clubs took the cut that allowed them to present the big cash prizes that were necessary to support the fleet. The sail insignia that had once caused controversy became accepted in many Open Boat fleets across the country, easing the path for sponsor’s logos many years later. The bigger Open Boats died away; the last of the Sydney fleet, the 22 Footer Desdemona, stopped racing in 1912, although even they seem to have been much faster than the 18s.

Just like the 22s and the Dinghies, the 18s soon expanded in every direction apart from length. These were the boats of legend; the boats that led old time builder Andrew Reynolds to say “I don’t call them boats; they are ships.”  By 1898, the average 18 Footer had a beam of 8ft, a boom of 26ft, a 15ft gaff, 17ft topsail yard, and a jib 26ft on the luff with a 14ft foot. Later boats had even bigger rigs; spinnaker poles grew to 40 feet, and booms reached 28ft. Downwind a “ringtail” was set off the leach of the main, effectively extending the boom another 17ft. A boat like Keriki (replacement for the 22 of the same name) could stretch 77ft from the tip of the spinnaker pole to the end of the ringtail.

To balance the big rigs, skippers packed more and more crew aboard, stacking them two or three deep on the windward gunwale. Some boats raced with a crew of up to 13 men and a hard-working bailer boy who spent their time avoiding being trampled while frantically bailing.

The myth says that the men who packed themselves aboard the early 18s where all working men who spent their days in manual labour around the harbour’s waters and shoreline of the Harbour. The reality seems to be different, and probably healthier. The 18 Footer sailors were not all the wild men of myth.  Just as with the earlier Open Boats, the 18 Footer sailors came from a wide range of backgrounds. The men who “swung” from the gunwales included labourers and football players, but they shared the course and the boats with rowers from elite private schools and successful owners and skippers who did gardening and needlework in their spare time. The well known Desdemona was owned by the state government’s top lawyer; others were owned and sailed by public servants. Foy’s own brother was a friend of Edward, king of England and owner of the 130′ cutter Britannia. Several of the 18 Footer sailors were also accomplished yachtsmen in the Royal clubs.

Above: Syd Dempster had three early 18s, including Anzac, and was known for promoting the class in the early 1890s. A former merchant mariner, he went on to become a mainstay of the Sydney big yacht scene, sailing with the Royal clubs.                                    Below: The 18s also attracted professionals like boatbuilder Billy Golding, who often raced against Dempster in the early days of the class. Golding later became identified with the 16 Foot Skiffs.

 

Of course, as the case of well known 18 Footer owner Reginald Holmes proved, a respectable appearance could be deceptive. In 1935, a freshly-captured tiger shark in a Sydney aquarium vomited up a human arm. The police investigations into what became known as the “Shark Arm Murder” revealed that Holmes, a respected churchgoer and boatbuilder, used his speedboats for cocaine smuggling and was linked to blackmailers, razor gangs, bank thieves, illegal bookmakers, forgers, and small-time crooks, including the former owner of the arm. Holmes became involved in searches for bodies and a four-hour high-speed powerboat chase before he shot himself, only to survive. He was soon found shot dead in his own car; it’s been alleged that under threats from underworld figures, he took out a contract for his own murder – a crime for which another 18 Footer sailor was charged and acquitted.

 

The 18 Footer Gloria, a competitive boat of the 1930s. William Hall photo from ANMM Commons

 

Meanwhile, on the water the 18 Footers were attracting almost as much attention as the Shark Arm Murder. In 1933 up to 30 boats raced weekly at the Sydney Flying Squadron, with a smaller but healthy fleet in Brisbane and a scattering of boats in West Australia and North Queensland.  But the era of huge rigs and huge crews was coming to an end.

The 18 Footers did not carry vast rigs and huge crews because those who sailed them could not conceive that a lighter boat with smaller sails and less crew could be faster, as sometimes claimed. They packed on more beam, more crew and bigger rigs because in the technology of the day, the powerful “troopships” were normally faster than the older and narrower boats with smaller rigs such as Yvonne and Aztec.  And the sailors realised that many of the spectators who crammed the ferries and whose support kept the fleet alive wanted to see giant clouds of sail. They wanted to marvel at the skills of forward hands who juggled the vast spinnaker poles through the gybes, and of course to be able to jeer at those who dropped the ringtail pole or caused a capsize.

Taken from the pages of the long-defunct Seacraft magazine, these drawings show the complexity of the gaff rigged 18 Footers.

 

 

The famous 18 Footer Britannia bursts through a wave under her “ballooner” headsail. In 1939 it was said that she had the largest sails of any 18 Footer. Her spinnaker was 996 sq ft, mainsail and just 880 sq ft, and ringtail 530 sq ft. Britannia raced for decades before being turned into a power launch. She is now a museum exhibit and one of only two survivors of the 18 Footers’ early days. Naval architect, curator and skiff designer David Payne took her lines and prepared the sailplan below.

Britannia’s lines show the wide beam, prominent “heel” or deadwood and widely flaring bow of her era. The design seems to have been intended to create a fast but forgiving hull that could handle a big rig and minimise the water flowing into the open hull.

 

But not everyone liked the “troopships”. Some owners objected to paying for the huge light wind sails. Others got sick of trying to find competent crew, and that may imply that competent crew weren’t always very keen to spend their weekend getting squashed between a narrow gunwale and a football player, or swimming the boat ashore after a capsize. Others probably just preferred the feel of lighter boats to powerful ones.

Even in the early 1900s, some sailors were experimenting with narrower 18s with smaller sails and smaller crews. Boats like Charlie Dunn’s Crescents, Qui Vive and first Mascotte were as narrow as 6ft, like the early 18s. “In a stiff leading breeze, with, balloon canvas aloft, no speedier craft than Qui Vive has ever engaged in racing” wrote one observer. “In a dead muzzle to windward with a brisk nor’-easter and a choppy sea, the small boats, when in the hands of expert, helmsmen and properly crewed, invariably triumph over the boats with a big, flare bow punching into the sea. The reason is obvious—the smaller boat can be.more snugly rigged and lighter crewed than her rival. This enables the boat to offer less resistance in the seaway, whereas the larger craft is inclined to “flounder.” Under light weather conditions the big geared boat makes the bravest showing, for if a craft has good beam, initial stability keeps the boat up to her work when going to windward.”

To many 18 Footer sailors, though, the idea of a smaller boat was anathema. To them, the skill and spectacle of 18 Footer racing lay in handling the powerful boats and huge rigs. If the spectators were turned off by seeing smaller but more efficient boats, the stream of gold that kept the whole class alive would dry up, and the 18 Footers would die with it.

Glory days. Bruce Stannard, whose famous book “The Blue Water Bushmen” did so much to bring the Open Boats back to public consciousness, identifies the armada above as the spectator fleet for the 1924 national 18 Footer championships.

Despite the strain of the big rigs and big crews, many of the 18 Footers lasted for decades. Scot had an incredible career of 50 seasons of racing. Her most competitive years were in her old age, when she was racing among the other old-style “big 18s” in the Sydney Flying Squadron, but even at 28 years of age she was able to win a light-wind heat in the national titles against the famous Aberdare. A replica now races in Sydney.

 

The contest between wide and narrow 18s came to open warfare in 1908 when a former 16 Foot Skiff owner moved into the 18 Footers with his latest Oweenee, “a ‘small’ boat, of the skiff type… with the wind on her quarter had few equals”.  “This craft is a skiff ‘pure and simple, and she looked a midget alongside her beamier opponents” noted another writer. With excellent upwind performance and good downwind speed in a breeze, Oweenee shocked the fans when she won the NSW state championship and led the selection trials for the national championship ahead of the legendary Chris Webb and his conventional boat Australian after two races.  Oweenee was barred from the final selection race because of her narrow (5ft 8in) beam, causing an uproar on Sydney Harbour. “The skiff Oweenee proved herself twice in succession the superior of Australian, but the push (ed: contemporary Australian for gang)… debarred the Oweenee from taking part in the third event, ostensibly because she is under 7ft. in beam, but really because she is too fast.”

 

The “skiff type” 18 Footer Oweenee. She was a slender boat with a small gunter rig in the style of a 16 Foot Skiff, rather than the low-peaked gaff of the more powerful “dinghy type” 18s. From The Red Hand.

 

The furore over Oweenee and another narrow boat, Young Jack, proved that the 18 Footer sailors of Sydney were not the development-mad speed freaks of legend. Like other sailors, their priority was on maintaining a strong fleet of competitive boats, even if that required them to cut off promising angles of development. The claim that they had only one rule is pure myth. They had a clear concept of the boats they wanted and the direction they wanted the class to go, and they were willing and able to exclude any boat that did not fit their ideal.

The irony is that the Oweenee incident also showed that to many 18 Footer sailors, the word “skiff”, now so closely allied with the class, was then little more than an insult. A “skiff” was still thought of as a slender boat with a fairly small rig, like the 16 Foot Skiffs – a real 18 Footer was something entirely different in nature and in name. Real 18 Footer sailing was “a feat of endurance, plus ability to think and act quickly in meeting the exigencies of the moment. The big sail spread in comparison with the size of the boat ensures plenty of thrills for the large number of spectators which crowd the decks of the official steamers. As the hoisting and manipulation of extras is the spice of open-boat racing, and as beam gives initial stability, the advocates of the (beamy) skimming dish type undoubtedly have many supporters.”

It was the sailors from Brisbane who were to revive the drive to smaller boats, perhaps because their smaller population resulted in smaller budgets and a smaller existing fleet to protect. From the mid 1920s, inspired by the way that the lighter and narrow “heel less” 16 Foot Skiffs sometimes showed downwind speed “superior to that of any other class”, they created “skiff type” 18 Footers like Valena. She was just 4’6′ wide and with a 16 Footer type fully-battened gunter rig she showed great downwind speed at times.

The Brisbane sailors proposed “that the beam restriction be .done away with to allow a boat with smaller lines to be constructed.. They designate the new style boat’ an ‘eighteen foot skiff.’ , They claim that it is cheaper to build, the upkeep is smaller, it does not require such a big crew, it is a better sporting boat on account of the diversity of design which no beam restriction allows, and that a greater speed is developed on a smaller waterline.” They even claimed the support of Mark Foy himself.  But the 18 Footer sailors from NSW and the small north Queensland and West Australian fleets were unimpressed with the Brisbane “freaks”, and firmly resisted attempts to reduce the minimum beam and depth rules. For several years the Brisbane and NSW fleets each held their own “national” championship without interstate entries.

JC was one of the first of Brisbane’s “skiff type” 18s. Compare her small crew and comparatively tiny high-aspect gunter to her great local rival Marjorie, bottom, a conventional “big 18”. Although JC sometimes struggled upwind, downwind her “extreme speed” when “bounding over the waves” in strong winds made Marjorie look “extremely slow” despite her huge rig.

State Library of Queensland photo.

 

For the 1929/30 national titles, Brisbane’s Jim Crouch added extra flare to the topsides of his “skiff type” J.C. so she could meet the minimum beam rules followed by the Sydney fleet. JC proved herself to be faster than the beamy Sydney boats but capsized when in the lead just 50 metres from the finish. Some said that she copped a gust bouncing off a nearby ship. Others claimed that Crouch lost concentration while waving in triumph to the spectators. Crouch’s premature victory salute could have changed the course of 18 Footer design.

It was in 1933 that former 16 Foot Skiff owner Fred Hart, skipper Vic Vaughan and veteran designer/builder J H Whereat unveiled Aberdare, the boat that changed the whole class. She was “of skiff design, but conforming to the restrictions of a minimum beam of 7 feet, and depth of hull of 2 feet.”  Here was a new threat – a “skiff type” boat that undeniably fitted within the 18 Footer rules. Aberdare carried a crew of around seven instead of the normal dozen or more, had what seem to be the first hollow spars in 18s, and a smaller and lighter centreboard than the conventional boats.  Like earlier “skiff types”, she had a rig that was dramatically smaller than that of the standard 18s and had a high-aspect long-battened 16 Foot Skiff style gunter mainsail instead of the conventional low-aspect gaff sail.  She also adopted the “heel less” stern, with its flat rocker without a deadwood or skeg, that had been common in the 16 Footer for years.

Although Aberdare fitted within the class rules, compared to the conventional boats and was small in hull and tiny in rig, as an excellent photograph on Ian Smith’s The Open Boat website shows. With her light weight and flatter stern, she was the first 18 Footer that was a true planing boat. The accounts claiming that she was clocked doing speeds in the high 20 knots are doubtless exaggerated (and they are certainly inconsistent) but even by today’s standards the photos of her downwind bursts are spectacular.

Contrasting visions of the 18 Footer; above is Aberdare, the 16 Foot Skiff-style boat that became known as the “galloping ghost”. With her slim hull, lighter crew and straighter “heel less” shape, she became the first true planing 18 Footer. Below is the older “big boat” Keriki dragging a tugboat wake.

 

Aberdare re-ignited the battle to define what an 18 Footer was and where the class should go. The fight that followed showed how closely the supposed “no rules” 18 Footer sailors would fight to maintain the rules they wanted, and also how the word “skiff” was seen as little more than an insult by many 18 Footer sailors. There was “strong criticism of the Queensland skiff type of 18-footer” which was merely “glorified skiff racing” that would “lead to disaster” for the class. “Such boats are definitely ruining the sport” some Sydney owners were quoted as saying. “Where is the wonderful sight of balloonors and big sails bellying in the wind?” Even some Queenslanders openly condemned Aberdare; “The skiff type eighteen, with skiff type sails, was spoiling the spirit of 18 footer racing (and was) detrimental to spectacular sailing.”

The complaints couldn’t stop Aberdare, but the weather could. At her first nationals, she was beaten by conventional boats that carried much more sail in the light winds. The next year she came back, with a bigger rig, and won the first of four national titles in a row.

Aberdare again. Although the Brisbane fleet lead the move to “small” 18s, they kept using the “ringtail” (the sail set outside the mainsail leach) long after it had been abandoned in Sydney.  This was said to be partly because when it was the Queenslanders’ turn to run the national championship, they would schedule the races so that the boats would face long square runs against an outgoing tide, giving the local boats more chance to use their local knowledge and more time to get an advantage from the extra sail area the ringtail gave them. For this reason the NSW fleet refused to race the 1926 championships, a boycott which seems to have exaggerated the feud over beam.

 

Aberdare and the similar Sydney boat The Mistake caused a furore that involved both warring personalities and warring ideas of what the 18 Footer movement represented. The debate on the future of the class became bitter as old personality differences arose. For all the claims that the Sydney 18 Footer men and the Flying Squadron were against rules and pro development by nature, they were willing to fight hard to stop the faster, lighter skiff types.  In 1937, the Squadron brought in rules that increased the minimum beam to 6’6″, banned the “heel less” hull shape, and mandated a long gaff.  Brisbane fans of the “big 18s” formed a new club to cater for the old boats, while Sydney fans of the “skiffs” formed a new club, the 18 Footers League, to cater for the new planing hulls. For years, they raced two separate classes of “modern 18s” and “large 18s”, with parallel club racing and separate regattas.

The sight of an Aberdare type planing downwind under 1100 sq ft of sail may not have stirred the traditionalists, but it turned out that the public loved the skiff types just as much as they had loved the old troopships. Eventually the “big 18” clubs gave up the battle; the Queensland club folded while the Flying Squadron allowed the new type to compete. Aberdare had set a general style that was to last until the 1950s.

In recent years, the magnificent gaff rigged 18 Footers have returned to Sydney Harbour. A “Historical Skiff” movement, centred around the SFS, has built about a dozen replicas of the old boats. The replicas use some modern technology and gear, but they provide a vivid glimpse of an earlier period, a link to the earlier sailors. And what fascinating beasts these replicas are. These are hard boats, for hard men. The concessions to modern times don’t include modern pulleys or cleats, and every heavy-air race is a battle against viciously heavy gear.

I stepped aboard the replica of Aberdare a few years ago at Balmain Sailing Club on the upper reaches of Sydney Harbour. It was an appropriate spot to step back in time; an earlier Balmain Sailing Club was, by one old account, the class where the 18 Footers really started off, and the revived Balmain Regatta is the lone survivor the last of the traditional local events that were the breeding ground for the 18 Footers and the other Open Boats. It’s a perfect hot summer’s day, with the glaring Sydney sunshine and a fresh seabreeze blowing over one of the world’s most beautiful harbours; as expat writer Clive James wrote, we were to be “racing over the crushed diamond water under a sky the texture of powdered sapphires”.

The first shock for a tyro Historical Skiff sailor is more mundane. Even before you cast off, you realise that with slack bilges and a heavy 15’ gaff slung high up the rig, the Historical 18s manage to be both heavy to handle and shockingly tender. Despite the weight of seven or more crew piled body-on-body over the windward rail, the boats reel under the gusts. When the gunwale goes under, there’s a general scream of “dump it, dump it” as the thick sheets slowly cruise out through the multiple heavy blocks. The galvanised iron daggerboard (shifted back and forth in the long slot to keep the helm balanced) does little to keep the boat up, or to give it directional stability. Upwind, the two men on the jibsheet must sweat it in and out in synch with the mainsheet hands; if only the mainsail is eased, the leverage of the jib on the long bowsprit will force the boat to bear away uncontrollably. Every tack is a mad dive through the boat to a runner or sheet, a shove and bitch to find a space on the windward rail, and then it’s back to frantic work on the sheets and insane rushes back to leeward in the lulls. It’s a combination of a rugby scrum and the mob scene in a disaster movie.

Life only gets tougher at the top mark. The massive spinnaker is not set from the masthead, like sane sailors do, but from the peak of the gaff itself. The enormous spinnaker pole lives in the bilge in sections; as the forward hands drag the spinnaker 12m/40’ up to the peak, the sheethands fight each 1.8m/6’ by 25cm/9” section out from underneath feet and tangled ropes and then assemble all 24 ft of the monster. This telegraph pole of a spar is controlled by nothing but a downhaul leading to the bowsprit tip and a single long brace, which leads through an open block and then to a wooden horn cleat. The sheethand doesn’t even get a cleat – the sheet goes straight from the spinnaker, to windward of the jib and then to an old-style wooden block on the centerboard case.

And so just as you draw breath from the hoist you get a gust, and the sheet hand just swears, braces himself around the mast and holds on like death itself as seven guys and quarter of a ton of boat takes off under a kite like a 30 footer’s. Aberdare rises up onto a slow plane, with the solid feel of a small yacht like Soling, Etchell or Flying 15. The replicas of older designs dig deeper and deeper holes in the water, dragging a wake like a tugboat as we leave them astern. One or two capsize, and that’s the end of their race – the Historicals ban buoyancy tanks, so the only option is a rescue.

Then comes the gybe, and all that has come before seems simple. The “flatty” spinnaker has only one brace and only one sheet, gybing involves passing brace, sheet and massive pole manually around the forestay, heavy labour while fighting for a spot in a tippy, crowded 18 footer. While the forward hands are battling the pole, the afterguard is struggling to pass the gaff’s backstay and the runners from side to side. At the back “Angry” Tearne, the former world champion who built and runs the boat is giving the guy who paid for it some uninhibited feedback on his steering skills. A few directions like “up” or “down NOW” come through the string of “f’in’ do this….f’n’ do that”.

The replica Aberdare showing the speed of her legendary predecessor. Bruce Kerridge/SFS photo.

As we go down the final run, our long lead disappears as our local knowledge expert sends us to the wrong mark. A rival comes alongside on port tack. “F’in STARBOARD” calls Tearne, followed by “F’IN’ DUCK” as our opponent gybes and 25 feet of boom sweeps in low and vicious arc across the top of Aberdare, scattering crew into the bilges.

Our rival ignores the foul as we drop the kite at the last mark, sections of spinnaker pole being thrown down and thudding into the crew as we maintain our inside position. “Tack f’in NOW!  EASE! TRIM!!” calls Tearne as we fight a covering duel. I’m pretty good at being noisy on a boat, but Angry’s a master at it.  The opposition misjudge a tack and with a dull whir, their bobstay wire runs along Aberdare’s gunwale and the bowsprit poked into our cockpit. We leap in to shove it clear, hoping they’ll get caught aback and capsize. It’s not needed. Having fouled twice, they meekly follow us to the finish, where we are literally cheered across the line by the crowd on the bank.

“Great race guys” says Angry with a friendly grin and a warm handshake. “Sorry if I got a bit excited… come back any time”.  A former 18 Footer world champion who has been watching in his powerboat comes up to give his verdict. “Best skiff race I’ve seen in ages” he says with a grin.

 

“The cost is inconsiderable when compared with the outlay on a 24-footer”:- Australian Star, 21 Nov 1894.

“On long courses, 18s could receive 10 minutes start from the 22s.”:-

 “Britannia showed how quickly the Brisbane 18s adopted the beamy “troopship” style of design that the 22s had already explored”:- Cairns Post 26 April 1922

“By 1898, the average 18 Footer at the JBSC had a beam of 8ft”:- The Queenslander, 12 March 1898. The same source has information on the average dimensions of 22, 14 and 10 Footers.

“The profits would go to the owners”:- Sydney Morning Herald 8 Sep 1891

“in order also that the rowdy element might be excluded”:- Daily Telegraph 27 Aug 1891

“Foy had got the Johnstones Bay Sailing Club to use the system”:- Sydney Morning Herald 11 Jan  1890

“Perhaps another reason for all-white sails was an economic one”:- See Australian Star, 19 Dec 1891 for Foy’s estimate of the sail badge cost.

1100 spec  Australian Star 23 Oct 1891

“the SASC adopted it the same day as the SFS”:- Sydney Mail 31 Oct 1891

“Running the Anniversary Regatta cost 300 pounds”:- Sydney Morning Herald 31 Dec 1891

“In a famous confrontation”:- Australian Star 12 Dec 1891

“Most of those who spoke for the ban were members of rival Open Boat clubs”:- Sydney Morning Herald 31 Dec 1891 has the details.

“Reports of their meetings”;- See for example Sydney Morning Herald 31 Dec 1891

“Most of those who spoke for the ban were members of rival Open Boat clubs”:-  See Australian Star 31 Dec 1891 for details. PW Craig, renowned owner of the famous 24 Footer Eileen, was also on the regatta committee for years (see for instance Sydney Morning Herald of SMH 12 Aug 1913).

“in 1887 they had required the sailing boats to carry sail numbers”:- Telegraph 20 Dec 1887. The yachtsmen who had withdrawn in protest included some of Sydney’s most prominent, including Jack Want and Milsom.

2000 pounds – Daily Telegraph 5 Jan 1892

“some publicly admitted that it occurred at all sailing events”:- Australian Star 18 Jan 1892. The writer said that even the Royal clubs ran sweepstakes on their races. Decades later the NSW sailors argued that the organisation of national championships should be altered

“the spirit of gambling had taken such hold of the community, that it had banished all love of honest manly sport as far as rowing and sailing were concerned”:-  Cootamundra Herald, 10 Dec 1892. See also Sydney Mail 17 Dec 1892 and others.

“Meanwhile, the two Royal Yacht Clubs stepped in to revive the ancient annual regatta.”- Australian Star 21 Dec 1892

“The Port Jackson 18 Footer races became so popular”:- Truth 21 Jan 1894

“The indefagitable Foy revived it”:- Australian Star, 12 Apr 1894

“When Queensland’s Britannia won the Intercolonial championship she was rated three minutes slower”:- Brisbane Courier, 26 Sep 1895

“Foy’s own brother was a friend of Edward, king of England”:- letter from Mark Foy’s daughter, Seacraft magazine, Feb 1967

“A new boat cost in the region of 200 to 300 pounds”:- See for example

 

“In 1939 it was said that she had the largest sails of any 18 Footer.”;-  The Sun 5 Mar 1939

“In the mid 1930s up to 30 boats raced weekly at the Sydney Flying Squadron”:- Sydney Morning Herald 5 Dec 1933

“”This craft is a skiff ‘pure and simple”:- West Australian 5 Dec 1908

“The skiff Oweenee proved herself twice in succession the superior of Australian”:- Sportsman 20 Jan 1909.  The issue was complicated by club politics, as the third heat was to be held at the Sydney Sailing Club which had a minimum beam limit. Newspapers complained that the selectors could have held a fourth race to give Oweenee another chance, but declined. See Evening News 11 Dec 1908 and Sydney Sportsman 13 Feb 1907. Oweenee’s owner complained that since he felt that Oweenee had already proven his point that she was faster than the “big boats” he had already agreed not to send her to the nationals and therefore there was no sense in banning her from the third race. See Sydney Morning Herald 19 Dec 1908.

 

“Although JC sometimes struggled upwind”:- Truth (Bris) 22 Sep 1929

“”Queensland proposes that the beam restriction be .done away with”;-  Townsville Daily Bulletin, 22 Jan 1927; Referee 16 Feb 1927

“They even claimed the support of Mark Foy himself”:- Telegraph (Bris) 21 June 1929

“For the 1929/30 titles, Brisbane’s Jim Crouch added extra flare”:- The Telegraph (Bris) 1 Nov 1929

“But the NSW 18 Footer sailors from other areas were unimpressed with such Brisbane “freaks”:- See for example Townsville Daily Bulletin, 20 Mar 1928

 “For this reason the NSW fleet refused to race the 1926 championships”:- Townsville Daily Bulletin, 22 Jan 1927. Information about the Brisbane boats retaining the ringtail from a personal conversation with Len Heffernan.

“of skiff design, but conforming to the restrictions of a minimum beam of 7 feet, and depth of hull of 2 feet.”:- Bowen Independent 7 May 1932 and 3 April 1935

“strong criticism of the Queensland skiff type of 18-footer” :- Courier Mail  29 Nov 1933

“The small type eighteen, with skiff type sails, were detrimental to spectacular sailing.” Brisbane Courier 7 Feb 1933

“Such boats are definitely ruining the sport”:- Telegraph (Bris) 4 Dec 1933

“In 1937, the Squadron brought in rules that increased the minimum beam to 6’6”, banned the “heel less” hull shape, and mandated a long gaff.”:-  Courier Mail 4 Nov 37

Another early Sydney skiff type was HC Press: see The Sun 28 Aug 1933