Evening Star Newspaper, June 22, 1930, Page 75

The Sunthy Star Magasin WASHINGTON, D. JUNE 22, 1930. A Mile to Go’—-— 24 PAGEL! Chance to Win? That’s When the Real Battle Will Start Next Thursday at Poughkeepsic; When the Leaders in the Annual Regatta Speed Under the Hudson Bridge a Mile From the Finish; When Stroke Goes Up and Up and the Oarsmen Give All They Have. the &L MILE to go and a chance to win! All together, now—the stroke is & going up!” Nine long, sleek racing shels slide under the towering railroad bridge which spans the Hudson at Poughkeepsie as nine leather-lunged little tyrants at the tiller ropes crouch low at their posts in the stern-sheets, exhorting the fast-wearying oars- men to “take her up, take her up!” As the spidery network of the huge steel bridge slips astern, more than 100,000 followers of intercollegiate boat racing will look down from the high river banks, from the Hudson day liners or private yachts, or from the long observation train that winds along the rocky shore, and they will thrill to the magnificent spectacle that will be reaching its climax just as the shadows lengthen over the course Thurs- day evening. Above the muffied clank of the oarlocks and the rhythmic rumble of the sliding seats, and above the occasional grunts and sighs of the sweep swingers as they bend to their task, the shrill, hoarse commands of the coxswains ring out: “Let's go now! Keep it long! Keep it long!” “Come on, No. 5! Get your oar in with the “Hold that slide out, bow! like a roller coaster.” “Three-quarters of a mile to go! rowing thirty-eight—get it up!” All of his remarks aren't confined to the men in his own crew. Occasionally he will bark an adjective or two at another boat. Two years ago at Poughkeepsie the Washington . coxswain, after exchanging some rather acri- monious shouts with the Columbia helmsman, suddenly called: “Move over, Columbia! Move over! You're giving us your backwash!” “You can keep it!” the Columbia coxswain flashed back at him. “We're through with it!” And then, without pausing for breath, he was shouting at his own crew again: “Get it up! Get it up!” Barking, shouting, pleading, the dynamic lit- ¢le fellows urge their men incessantly to super- human efforts in that spirit-breaking last mile, from the Poughkeepsie Bridge to the end of the course. The towering span has settled many & race. That is where the real race be- gins, regardless of what has happened during the previous three miles. You come down You're HENEVER a coach sees a crew setting a sustained fast pace in the early part of the four-mile test he usually remarks, with a trace of finality, ““The Bridge for them.” He knows that they won't have any reserve strength left when the stroke goes up and the going gets hot down that last long mile. Last year’s battle down that never-ending BY CHARLES stretch was probably the most dramatic in all rowing history. Fought in the gathering dark- ness of the June evening, it was a battle as much against the elements as against rival sweep swingers. A spanking sou'west breeze ruffied the Hudson, turning it into a river of whitecaps. Choppy waves played havoc with the rhythmic beat of the oarsmen. Crews halted their disorganized strokes, started again in unison and soon were disorganized again. Wave after wave splashed into the boats. Some of the shells were in difficulty soon after Julian Curtiss, the veteran referee, had sent the nine boats away with his booming “Ready all? Row!” Three of them sank before the first three miles had been completed, and the tired oarsmen were pulled out of the river into launches that sped to their rescue. Two of the others were plowing aleng, splashing water everywhere, their gunwales nearly awash. Those that were able to keep afloat fought gamely on, disregarding the water that sloshed about in the bottom of the shells, thinking only of the coxswains’ commands to “Keep her up! Keep her up!” Through the gloom and the whitecaps the light blue-tipped oars of Columbia’s great eight, which had gone through its early season un- defeated, flashed in and out with a perfect cadence. There was no disorganization in that boatload. Behind them came Washington, Pennsylvania and Navy, well rigged for the rough going, but unable to match the speed and endurance of the boys from New York. Time after time the coxswain in the Wash- ington boat called upon his huskies for “ten long ones” in a frantic effort to catch the fly- ing Columbia craft, but Rich Glendon's crew was invincible. Going into the final quarter mile, Alastair MacBain, Columbia’s redoubtable stroke oar, sent the beat up to 41 to the min- ute, and with a final burst of speed he and his mates hurled their shell across the line three lengths ahead of the sturdy crew from the Pa- cific Coast. Columbia’s boat was half full of water, but the fighting crew had battled on to victory through the last long mile. There is going to be another battle royal all the way down that tortuous last mile this year The results of early-season regattas have shown that. It will be another struggle between East and West, with Columbia, Cornell, Navy, Penn- sylvania, Syracus> and Massachusetts Tech fighting off the challenge of the powerful west- ern eights from Washington, California and Wisconsin, Drawn for The Mar's Sunday Magazine by Stockton Muliord, FREMD, JR. NIANY there are who think the West is out of it this year; that the Eastern crews will decide the supremacy of the river among themselves. For the first tim: in nearly a decade all of the colleges along the Atlantic seaboard have turned out strong, capable crews, any one of which seems good enough to win. Columbia’s gallant 1929 boatload was broken up by graduation and only four of that combi- nation are seated in the Blue and White shell which will defend the title. But, despite the four nawcomers in the varsity shell, Columbia can’t be counted out of the race this year—not by a couple of boat lengths. Look at what the Blue and White oarsmen have shown this year. They opcned the East- ern rowing season by defeating a powerful Navy crew and a strong Massachusetts Tech aggre- gation, flashing across the finish line a scant 10 feet ahead of Navy and a couple lengths in front of the heavy M. I. T. oarsmen. And Navy will be one of Columbia’s most dangerous rivals at Poughkeepsie. The following week Columbia lost to Yale by a boat’s length in one of the weirdest races ever seen. Because of rough water the referee held up the race until darkness fell, counting on the wind dying down at sunset. In the murky darkness, punctuated now and then by the bright beams from automobile headlights on the shore road, the Columbia shell went off the course in the final mile and last hit a marking buoy at the turn. Pennsylvania, like- wise befuddled, finished about three lengths astern of the New Yorkers. But Columbia came back to show her real power and brought the season to a close on May 31 with an impressive victory in the Child’s Cup regatta on the Schuylkill River, beating both Pennsylvania and Princeton. No, Colum- bia can’t be counted out of the race this year. And neither can Corncll. In that short sentence is packed one of the most dramatic stories of the sport of sweep swingers. For the first time in a long, barren decade Cornell has a real chance to win. For the first time since the far-off days of “Pop” Courtney’s regime, when Cornell literally ruled the river, the big Red crew from Cayuga Lake has a real chance to rega‘n the title it once h~ld so constantly. For nearly two-score years Charles Courtney ruled th: Cornell navy and for nearly two- score years his oarsmen were invincible. So successful was the shrewd old veteran in mold- ing his crews that the newsboys’ cry of “Cornell sweeps th: river” aroused little or no excite- ment after a time. Only when Columbia, Penn- sylvania or Syracuse won & desperately-fought battle was there much interest. Just a decade ago he died and with him passed Cornell's supremacy on the water. Since his death no Cornell varsity has been able to drive the nos2 of its shell first across the finish line in th: Poughk-epsie regatta. ND now this year Cornell is sending to the Hudson the most likely-looking crew that has come down from Cayuga Lake since th: days when the old master turned out champion eights with monotonous regularity. So when the slim shells slide under the railroad bridge this Thursday 100,000 eyes are going to follow the Cornell boatload through the battle of that last long mile, wondering if they can pull the trick that other Cornell crews used to find so easy—after Courtney had shown them how. He was capable of showing them how, and no mistake, for he was one of the greatest masters of rowing in the history of the sport— and, perhaps, i‘'s most colorful figure. He was born back in 1849 on the shores of Cayuga Lake, where in later years he was to win his fame, and he literally grew up on the water. He was only 19 when he rowed and won his first race. Although he was competing against much older and more experienced m:n and his craft was much heavier, he won the three- mile contest by the tremendous margin of half a mile! During the nine years that he raced as an amateur Courtney participated in 88 regattas and he won them all! Later, as a professional sculler, he took part in 46 races and won all but 7 of them. With this unusual record to recomm:nd him, Courtney was engag d as head coach of the Cornell navy in 1883, and he enjoyed tremen- dous success almost from the start. His varsi- ties won 14 out of 23 Poughkeepsie regattas—a remarkable record, truly, Twice he won the rowing classic three years in succession—from 1901 to 1903 and from 1905 to 1907. And his greatest record was four successive victories—in 1909, 1910, 1911 and 1912. Some one omc> credited Courtn:y with starting the Pough- keepsie regatta. That isn't true, but he did come veiy near finishing it, so monotonous did Cornell’s victories become. Much of “the old man’'s” success has be:n laid tp the fact that he was an iron discipli- narian. All of his rigid training rules had to be scrupulously obeyed or drastic action fol- lowed immediately, no matter how valuabie the unlucky miscreant might be as s oarsman. There are two stories of “Pgp” Courtney's strict discipline that have becor:e classics among crewmen. The first goes back to 1897. Th: Poughkeepsie regatta that year was only a short time away when the coach discovered, inadvertently, that the members of his varsity, . crew had broken training table rules by secretly, Indulging in strawberry shortcake! The coacly