Articles about Carl

SAILING LEGEND EICHENLAUB REMEMBERED

By Bill Center

Carl Eichenlaub could build or fix anything. His daughter Betty Sue Sherman explained earlier this week that Carl once saw a small diesel marine engine sitting on the floor of a shop and decided he could build a boat around that engine.

I happened to buy that boat from Carl years ago. It was the Ark and it looked and sounded like the African Queen as it ka-thucka-ed along at the top speed of, as Carl put it “much more than five knots but not quite seven.”

Other than being able to pull a boat three times its size, the Ark didn’t have many practical uses. But it was a treasure. It was a sad day when I parted with the Ark.

I thought of Carl and the Ark the day after Thanksgiving when I received the sad news that Eichenlaub had died at age 83 because of complications following the latest in a series of strokes.

As two-time Olympic Gold Medalist Mark Reynolds noted, “an era passed.” On the waterfront of San Diego Bay, Carl Eichenlaub was truly an era unto himself.

Carl was a true renaissance man.

He was an artist. Not only could the man craft the finest lines when building boats, he was a symphony-caliber bassoonist. He had an amazing work ethic. Carl was known to work around the clock.

In addition to building countless boats in his Shelter Island boatyard for almost six decades starting in 1952, Eichenlaub was the shipwright to the U.S. Olympic national sailing team for almost three decades — a run that covered seven Olympic Games. Eichenlaub made repairs that bordered on miracles — although he often ran afoul of the Olympic Games security as he tried to pass through metal detectors in coveralls coated with metal shavings.

When he finished repairing American boats, Eichenlaub assisted competitors from other nations who needed help.

Plus, Eichenlaub not only loved to sail, he could race with the best. He won championships in boats large (three versions of his beloved ocean racer Cadenza) and small (Lightnings, Stars, Snipes, Solings etc.). He twice came close to making the U.S. Olympic team as a competitor.

“He was very happy any time he was on his boat,” said Sherman.

Eichenlaub would sail Cadenza to distant competitions in Mexico, Hawaii and San Francisco. After the competition, he’d sail Cadenza home. Not only a local champion, Cadenza was once the winner of the San Francisco Challenge Cup with Malin Burnham steering.

“Dad loved his Cadenzas and the name,” said Sherman. A cadenza is an expressive passage by one instrument. “Perfect to describe the boat or dad,” said Sherman.

Eichenlaub opened his Shelter Island boatyard a year before he graduated from San Diego State. At first he built small and affordable boats (mostly Lightnings, Snipes and Stars) for local racers.

After Lowell North won his third Star Worlds title in an Eichenlaub-built boat, the builder’s reputation took off. “In many ways, Carl is a genius,” North said in a 1965 Sports Illustrated article on Eichenlaub.

Eichenlaub began filling orders from around the world.

In 1973, Eichenlaub collaborated with designer Doug Peterson to build a One-Ton sloop that is considered by many to be one of the top half dozen breakthrough designs of the past century.

“His next project was always his favorite,” said Sherman.

Carl Eichenlaub was in 2000 voted the Herreshoff Award — the highest honor available from US Sailing — for his service to the sport.

http://www.utsandiego.com/news/2013/dec/08/tp-sailing-legend-eichenlaub-remembered/

Eichenlaub built first boat 63 years ago

Associated Press

SANTO DOMINGO, Dominican Republic -- Carl Eichenlaub built his first boat at age 10, a modest 7-footer big enough to hold only him and maybe a friend if they sat really close.

Carl Eichenlaub is attending his seventh Pan Am Games and has been to every Olympics since 1976.

On Friday, the beloved 73-year-old boatwright for the U.S. sailing team will carry the American flag in the opening ceremony of the Pan American Games. The selection is believed to be the first time a non-athlete has been chosen by the U.S. team captains for the honor.

"I'm flabbergasted,'' Eichenlaub said Thursday. "I didn't think, for one, that it would ever be possible. I'm overwhelmed they'd choose me for such a position.''

For those who made the choice, it was easy.

Eichenlaub is attending his seventh Pan Am Games and has been to every Olympics since 1976. He works behind the scenes at sailing events worldwide to repair masts and save sails.

And he's a volunteer.

"It's possible to have real catastrophes,'' he said. "Broken masts, broken pillars.''

The lifelong San Diego resident occasionally even helps competitors from other countries, saying the Americans would rather beat a team at full strength than one with inferior equipment. He's the first to arrive at the boatyard, and often works out of a run-down horse trailer.

"He helps other countries all the time,'' said Fred Hagedorn, the team leader for U.S. sailing. "Carl is always generous with his time and effort.''

The sailing team honored Eichenlaub in 2000 with a lifetime volunteer award. That same year at the Sydney Olympics, Eichenlaub was run over while waiting for a bus and cracked his hip. He continued to work on crutches. He also has a titanium plate in his left shoulder, which can be a hassle when he tries to clear security.

Back in the 1970s -- Eichenlaub can't quite recall just when -- a friend in Chicago who owned a sail-making company encouraged him to apply for a vacancy with the national team. He got the job and went to Montreal for the '76 Summer Games.

"I'd always been told if you get the opportunity to go to the Olympics, don't turn it down,'' he said. "It was beginner's luck and they kept me around.''

Eichenlaub is the son of a boat builder, but his early interest derived from a book that showed, step-by-step, how to build 20 types of boats.

In that first vessel, Eichenlaub sailed the San Diego River, but his hobby was put on hold by World War II.

"I wanted to build a bigger boat as I got older, but I couldn't acquire any of the materials during the war,'' he said.

Six weeks ago, Eichenlaub prepared two mobile equipment rigs-- one to send here and the other that's on its way to Athens in preparation for the 2004 Olympics. He will travel to Greece later this month to hold a "dress rehearsal.''

Boating is just the centerpiece for Eichenlaub in a very full life.

He spends two nights a week playing the bassoon in two amateur orchestras -- "More often when they're fixing to give concerts,'' he said.

Eichenlaub and his wife, Jean, travel with their dog, Dixson, to dog shows, which Eichenlaub refers to as "dog regattas.'' The canine is named after the Point Loma street on which Eichenlaub lives in the oldest house -- where all the former inhabitants are buried on the property, with pillars marking "their final resting spots.''

"My wife trained him to do agility,'' he said of the pooch. "It turns out he's a champion. He accumulated enough points to sail in the championship regatta in Calgary in September.''

Clearly, sailing remains his top passion.

"I pity the team leader who isn't able to have him on their team,'' Hagedorn said. "He makes their lives easy.''

World champion, builder and boatwright

Sailing World 2005

June 22, 2005

By The Editors More articles by this author

Joining the Hall of Fame at age 75, Carl Eichenlaub not only merited inclusion because he was an outstanding racer in his day – winning Snipe, Star, and Lightning championships, including the 1960 Lightning Internationals (the top Lightning event before the first class Worlds in 1961). He also made a career of building boats for these classes, and his boats have been among the best, winning countless championships. In 1963, for instance, Eichenlaub won the Lighting NAs, finished second at the Snipe Nationals, and his boats swept the top three places at the Star Worlds. That same year, after a windy day decimated a portion of the Snipe fleet, he helped put everybody back together again so they could race the next day.

It has been this willingness to help others get back on the water that added an extraordinary dimension to Eichenlaub's career in sailboat racing. Living and working in San Diego, the boatbuilder's reputation continued to grow over the years as he served every couple years as the U.S. Sailing Team shipwright at every Pan Am and Olympic Games since 1979. Not only has Eichenlaub been able to repair the U.S. fleet in a competent, creative, and timely way at each of these high-profile events, but his generosity and skill have been apparent to foreign competitors who have frequently been welcomed to his well-equipped portable boat shop.

http://www.sailingworld.com/article/Carl-Eichenlaub

Hall of Fame Interview: Carl Eichenlaub

August 3, 2005

By Peter Huston

Not only was he an outstanding racer in his day – winning Snipe, Star, and Lightning championships, including the Lightning Internationals – but Carl Eichenlaub also made a career of building boats for these classes, and his boats have been among the best, winning countless championships. And over the last 25 years as the US Sailing Team’s shipwright, Eichenlaub has been able to repair the U.S. fleet in a competent and timely way at high-profile events; his generosity and skill have been apparent to foreign competitors who have frequently been welcomed to his well-equipped portable boat shop.

When did you realize that putting boats together (or back together) was something you liked to do? What was the first boat you built?

When I was a kid, about junior high, I got a magazine called "How to Build 20 Boats" – it had lots of boats and plans, some of which became famous. One thing led to another and I gravitated towards the boat business. The first boat I built was a "Stormy Petrel." My father was a cattleman, so we loaded the boat onto his cattle truck and took it to Mission Bay YC. It's sort of a natural thing to want to see if your boat is faster than the other guy's, so I sort of got into racing by just wanting to be faster than other boats out there.

Why were your Stars & Lightnings the best? What's the fastest boat you ever built?

In the case of Stars, I had a big boost from Lowell North – he had innovated on the Starboat lines, went to a major regatta, and won nearly every race, but he got thrown out for a rules infraction before the start. He didn't want to build boats. He wanted to be either a snowski maker or a sailmaker. I figured I could probably build him one, so he gave me his lines, and I modified them over the years to make even more competitive Stars. It was about '63 or '64 that I hit the jackpot with people winning all the time in my boats.

Lightnings – that was a strange one. I built one for my dad and took it to the Internationals in New Orleans I built it right from the plans, didn't change anything within the tolerances. We were clearly faster than everyone, but I'm not sure why. Thought I could do better in terms of design, but each year got worse. One time I went to the Internationals, and the guy who was doing as badly as I was, did better. I asked him why, and he told me, which was about what we were doing with Starboat lines. I won the 1960 Internationals, and then helped Tom Allen learn to build Lightnings. He then did better than me, so I had to keep innovating, and then beat Tom again in '63.

At your best as a competitor, what were your strengths? What was your best victory?

I was probably at my best in Mission Bay-type wind – moderate wind. I was lousy in really light air, not very good in a gale. The best sailors on Mission Bay in the '60s were the Barber twins (Manning and Meritt, who invented the Barber hauler), not the best racers, but the best straight-line sailors. They are the ones who helped us get going really fast.

The Lightning 1960 Internationals was my biggest win – I tried and worked so hard to get to that point, drawing a different boat to the tolerances. I had to become a better sailor, so I got in a Sabot and practiced every day at Mission Bay YC for six months against a woman, Mrs. Lynch, who was really fast. If you can sail a Sabot well, you can sail anything well. I remember one race really well. It blew really hard, the maximum amount they'd sail a race in. We got to the weather mark second to last, but if there was one thing I knew how to do really well, it was to make a boat plane, because of my experience in I-14's. We got back to third on a great downwind leg. It was a matter of knowing when and how much to move the crew weight. That was the race that won me the Internationals.

Why did you decide to become the U.S. Sailing Team shipwright?

I didn't decide. One day I got a phone call from Dick Sterns, the President of Murphy & Nye. He called me out of the blue, saying a new position had opened up on the Sailing Team, he thought this position would be right up my alley. He asked me to take on the job (he was going to be the team leader) and I almost turned him down. But a friend told me that if I ever had the chance to go to Olympics I should go. That was in '76. I've done it every Olympics, Pan Am, and Goodwill Games since.

Have you ever had a real conflict between helping a U.S. sailor with a minor problem or fixing something major for a sailor from another team?

I've always worked on helping out with other countries. Some of our team leaders like this, some didn't, but I always cleared it first.

The Canadians didn't take Dirk Knuelman (their shipwright) to Athens and their women's board got crushed in shipping. I fixed it, and it came out beautiful and she won the first race. A lot of people were sort of unhappy about that, but then Lanee Butler won the next race, so it was OK.

What's the most creative repair you've managed during a major event? Hardest?

The hardest repair was in the Paralympics in Australia. I got back to Sydney the day before the Games started because I had been given the Herreshoff Award by US SAILING and had to be at their meeting for the presentation. So after flying all day, I went right from the plane to the club and had to fix the floor timber in the Sonar, because it had been left out when the boat was built. The team had sailed the boat without the floor timber and the boat had a huge crack. I only had a piece of plywood, and even had to plane that down to size to meet the class specifications. I would have rather used oak, but I got it in, used 6 or 8 layers of mat and roving and glassed it in. It took all night to put that many layers in and then I epoxied it all up. It was a miracle to get done on time. It was a difficult job with limited time.

The most creative was when Bill Buchan came to the '84 Olympics, he had a boat that was too narrow, more than a half inch too narrow at the stern, both at the deck and chine. Bill had built the boat himself, and I was surprised he let me fix it. So I took a Skil saw, made four three-foot long cuts, put some wedges in, fixed it, and he won the gold medal.

Are there any repair jobs, or anything else about boatbuilding that you really don't like?

I'm not a glass man, but when you are in my line of work, you get exposed to it because some of the glass work is involved – like one time a guy shows up at a pre-trials with a hole in the transom of his Starboat that looked just like the bow of another Starboat and I had to fix it quickly.

What's going on at your yard now? It's rumored that you're building wooden boats again.

I built a PC (Pacific Class) for my daughter Betty Sue, who is going to be commodore of SDYC next year. I told her she needed a flagship, but if I built a modern race boat, it would be obsolete before it was done. It's all built and in the water; everything is done with the exception of the mast. I have the wood for the mast, which is Douglas fir, 40 feet long, that has to be scarfed together. It's all built according to the exact plans as accurately as I could to duplicate what Kettenburg had built. The hull is varnished mahogany. This is the first one that has been built in probably about 50 years.

How long have you been a member of San Diego YC?

I grew up sailing at Mission Bay YC, but when I started sailing boats that couldn't get under the bridge to the ocean, like Solings, I joined SDYC. I've been a member of SDYC for 30 years. I am member #2 at Mission Bay YC currently.

Who was your biggest early influence in sailing?

Probably the best guy who ever sailed at Mission Bay YC, except for Earl Elms, was Bob Gales. It was always felt that if you could be beat him, you could beat just about anybody in the world. I crewed for him a few times, and learned more from him than anyone else. When I first joined Mission Bay, the boat of choice was the Skimmer which is what I really started racing on with Bob.

Besides San Diego, where are your favorite places to sail?

Tawas Bay, Michigan of course, because I won the Lightning Internationals there. Naturally San Francisco; you just get addicted to sailing in a gale. And of course, Buffalo, with all its Lightning sailing, – it has to be a great place to sail, because so many great sailors come from there, and great places make great sailors.

Will we see you at the Lightning Masters in Mission Bay next summer? Will you build your own boat out of wood for this regatta?

I think you will see me there, but no, I probably won't be building a wooden boat; that would sort of be going against the trend.

http://www.sailingworld.com/article/Hall-of-Fame-Interview-Carl-Eichenlaub

Carl Eichenlaub is bringing a classic boat back to life

By Bill Center

UNION-TRIBUNE STAFF WRITER

March 8, 2004

Working off blueprints drawn in 1948, with templates and jigs he made himself, Carl Eichenlaub builds a PC sloop as a flagship for his daughter, Betty Sue Sherman. NANCEE E. LEWIS / Union-Tribune

This is a story of the old craftsman and the PC, a tale of wooden boats and rich pages from San Diego's nautical history that refuse to fade.

The craftsman is Carl Eichenlaub, at 73 still one of the nation's most respected boat builders.

And the PC doesn't stand for politically correct, but for Pacific Class. Were there a flagship for San Diego's recreational boating fleet, it would be the venerable, 32-foot PC sloop.

"The PC is unmatched in grace, beauty and performance," says Rish Pavelec, the boat's historian. "It was a boat that was born and built here. And almost everyone of prominence in San Diego sailing has owned or sailed on a PC."

Many still do.

Although it has been nearly five decades since the last PC was launched, the boat – which celebrates its 75th anniversary this year – continues to race as a class with San Diego hosting the annual national championship regatta.

Carl Eichenlaub is certain he can finish construction before his daughter becomes the San Diego Yacht Club's first female commodore. NANCEE E. LEWIS / Union-Tribune"When you think of sailboats and San Diego, probably the first class that comes to mind is the Star because of all the world and Olympic champions from the area who have sailed the boat," Eichenlaub said recently.

"But in terms of connection with San Diego, the PC is probably No. 1."

Which is why Eichenlaub started thinking about the PC early last year when trying to find the appropriate salute to his daughter. In less than two years, Betty Sue Sherman will become the first woman commodore in the century-plus history of San Diego Yacht Club.

"I wanted to build her a special boat as her flagship," said Eichenlaub. "But what? An ocean racer would be obsolete by the time of her induction. It had to be a boat that fit the occasion.

"What better than building a PC?"

Indeed.

PC sloops, which pass their 75th anniversary this year, have been sailing San Diego waters since before Carl Eichenlaub was born.Union-TribuneThe only problem was that no one had built a PC since 1956. And many of the tools used to create and shape the boat are no longer in use. Eichenlaub is working off blueprints drawn in 1948.

Yet, on most every morning, Eichenlaub can be found toiling beneath a tarp in his Shelter Island boatyard – recreating history one mahogany plank at a time, building from scratch parts that have been out of limited production for longer than he can remember.

"When will I get this done? In time," he says. "When her day comes, the boat will be there. I think it's going to be beautiful. I've concerned myself to be as original as I can."

All the way down to the screws and glue and keel.

"It's a labor of love," Eichenlaub admits. And just not his. Daily, friends old and young drop by his yard to peek under the tarp and see history in the re-creation.

To fully appreciate the project, you must understand the place of the PC in local lore

. . . and the "meticulous" nature of Carl Eichenlaub.

It was the late Joe Jessop who first had the idea for the PC.

In the summer of 1928, Jessop sailed in the East on the S class designed by the famed Nathaniel Herreshoff. Upon returning to San Diego, Jessop told brothers George Jr. and Paul Kettenburg that the West Coast should have a boat comparable to what the Easterners called the "Atlantic Class."

"Joe and George wanted to make a boat that could be used to take the family sailing," Paul Kettenburg recalled recently.

George, who was then 24, went to work carving a model of the boat described by Jessop. As he carved, he made changes. When the carving was completed, the Kettenburg brothers – Paul was 19 – built a full-sized boat in the back yard of their home on Kellogg Street.

No sooner was the first boat launched than the Kettenburgs received orders for more boats at $2,500, fully rigged and including sails. The design led to the creation of Kettenburg Marine.

The Depression slowed demand for the boat. And during World War II, the Kettenburgs built boats for the military. But after the war ended, the brothers went back to work building the PC and its larger sister ship – the 46-foot Pacific Class Cruiser (PCC). The brothers also built K-38s, K-41s and K-43s.

But the PC always held a special place in both the hearts of the brothers and San Diego.

A total of 79 were built. Pavelec has traced 64 of those hulls. Forty-seven are still sailing. Eleven were lost. One was modified and is no longer considered a PC. And 20 are missing.

Plus, four assigned hull numbers were never built – including three that were being built in Honolulu when the shop was bombed during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.

More than 30 of the PCs still sailing are in San Diego – most located on PC Row at San Diego Yacht Club.

Over the years, a number of builders had approached Paul Kettenburg about building a PC. He had said no . . . until Eichenlaub approached him.

"It's a great feeling knowing a new PC is being built," said Kettenburg. "And Carl was the right man to do it."

Eichenlaub is not the first member of his family to create great structures of wood.

His father, Carl Eichenlaub Sr., designed the famous Goat Canyon Trestle in Carrizo Gorge – the highest wooden railroad bridge in the country. The span in eastern San Diego County is 186 feet high and 633-½ feet long.

Eichenlaub started building boats in 1950, first of wood, then of aluminum. The age of carbon fiber severely cut into his business.

"Other than kooks and purists, no one wants wooden boats anymore," he says. "There's not much of a market for a guy like me. Carbon fiber has pretty much killed me."

Not exactly.

The multiskilled Eichenlaub has been the boatwright of the U.S. Olympic sailing team since 1976. He was selected as the flag-bearer for the U.S. team for the most recent Pan American Games in the Dominican Republic.

Eichenlaub is also one of the area's top ocean racing skippers and twice came close to sailing in the Olympics in a boat he built.

But his passion is building in wood. Son Brian has a replica of a Bluenose Schooner built by Eichenlaub.

"This is a labor of love," Eichenlaub says after he climbs down from the deck. "Getting started was easy because Paul supplied me with a great set of plans. But we had to do all the loftings and create all the templates ... before I started building the boat.

"It's been very time-consuming, which is part of the beauty for a guy like me. I love the detail – getting everything perfect – just like it was."

Given the PC's status in San Diego's boating hierarchy – PC No. 8 (Wings) is in the San Diego Maritime Museum thanks to Pavelec and other hulls have been restored at costs topping $70,000 – there is probably a market for new PCs.

But Eichenlaub says that is a decision Paul Kettenburg must make. As it stands, Eichenlaub plans to destroy the templates and jigs he has created once hull No. 83 is completed.

"In those plans," says Eichenlaub, "Paul entrusted me with a large part of his life and family history. Build more? That's up to Paul. I wouldn't think of doing anything myself."

Said Kettenburg: "I'd love to see more built as long as the specifications are maintained."

http://www.utsandiego.com/uniontrib/20040308/news_lz1s8bckpge.html

They play – just for the joy of it

Denise Nelesen

November 13, 2004

Nestled behind other instrumentalists from the New City Sinfonia sit Carl Eichenlaub and David Horning, who affectionately refer to themselves as the "70-year-old bassoon section." Both are in their 70s, yet they are not the oldest members of this group.

New City Sinfonia is one of a handful of community chamber orchestras that gather musicians, most of whom are amateurs, for the joy of bringing classical music to life and presenting free concerts for the public. Quite a few of the 40 participants are older adults, but there is a range of ages. The common denominator is a love of playing music with others.

Carl says he wouldn't make a good audience member: "To me it's a participation thing. I enjoy participating, not sitting down and listening."

The sinfonia's conductor, Daniel Ratelle, says that being in an orchestra is "one of those things that really involves a lot of you, unlike watching TV, which you can do on autopilot. You have to figure out why a part isn't working. You focus on your fingers, your breath and everything else.

"You can play a clarinet by yourself, but it's not the same as being here and listening to what's going on. (Playing in an orchestra) involves the left and right half of the brain. You're creating beauty while you're mastering technical challenges. It's kind of addicting."

He says that age doesn't necessarily impact someone's ability to perform with an orchestra. "In terms of playing music, if someone has good technique, (he/she) should be able to play well for a very long time. I see this not as working with older adults, but with players, a group of people who come together and can play."

Both Carl and David are addicted and belong to more than one community orchestra. "Many of the orchestras have the same players who bounce around. Some play every single day of every single week," Carl says.

For David, his playing days started because he didn't want to be left home alone. His wife, Barbara, plays and teaches violin, and she was gone most nights. So before he retired from his career, he went back to music. In junior high school, he played the violin, then switched to saxophone, eventually giving up both. But to keep up with his wife, he picked up a new instrument, the bassoon. "I like the sound of it and the range of it," he says of the 4-foot-tall, black, tubelike woodwind instrument.

Both bassoonists took lessons and practiced with their instruments before seeking a space in a community orchestra.

"We're not a training group," Ratelle emphasizes. "You have to have been playing your instrument for a while just to get through some of these pieces."

The members rehearse for more than two hours each Thursday night. And three times a year, they present a concert, one of which is scheduled for Friday.

Conducting a community orchestra can be more challenging than leading a professional symphony orchestra, not because of the level of performers, but because the players are volunteers. Some have jobs outside of performing, and they all have lives that can interrupt their participation in the group. One woman wasn't at the recent rehearsal because she was finishing a cruise. One of the trumpet players had fallen and broken his arm.

"Their children get sick, they have families, they go on vacation. All this is typical with a community orchestra," Ratelle says. The group makes do, or if the leave will be a long one, Ratelle can fill in from a waiting list or with a player from another orchestra. "But generally, they keep coming, and they're here because they want to be."

The sinfonia is sponsored in part by the San Diego Community College District, which allows the participants to play for no cost and the audience to listen for free.

The New City Sinfonia's Fall Concert will be 7:30 p.m. Friday in the sanctuary of the First Unitarian Universalist Church, 4190 Front St., across from the UCSD Medical Center, in Hillcrest. Parking will be free.

The concert will present Franz Joseph Haydn's "Surprise" Symphony, No. 94; Johannes Brahms' Variations on a Theme of Haydn; and the Three Dances from Henry VIII by Edward German.

http://www.utsandiego.com/uniontrib/20041113/news_1c13nelesen.html

Like Trees, Boats Should Be Wooden

So says a man who builds the best and wouldn't reach out for fiber glass if he were drowning

Hugh Whall

January 25, 1965

I don't like the stuff. I don't like the way it looks. I don't like the way it feels. I don't even like the way it smells. The truth is," added the frustrated traditionalist, "fiber glass stinks!" Nevertheless, after years of unswerving fidelity to wooden hulls, that particular sailor has just bought himself a brand-new boat built of laminated fiber glass. "I suddenly realized," he said in lame apology, "that I enjoyed sailing more than I did sanding, caulking, priming, painting and pumping."

This attitude on the part of many other sailors, traditionalists and iconoclasts alike, has steadily increased both the output and consumption of fiber glass boats. At last year's National Motor Boat Show in New York 54% of the 475 boats on display were made of fiber glass. At the show that opened in New York this week the percentage of fiber glass over other materials had risen to 56%, and there seems little doubt that it will rise still higher at the 1966 show. More and more dinghies, outboards, cruisers, sports fishermen and ocean racers are blossoming out in fiber glass. And because of the ease with which it can reproduce a design, more and more new racing classes are born in fiber glass. Many old ones, among them Snipes, Lightnings and Wood Pussies—all traditionally dedicated to wood—are now admitting hulls of fiber glass into their ranks.

One notable exception to this trend is the Star class, which is still restricted to wood. And one notable holdout from the increasing army of fiber glass converts is the man who builds, and will continue to build—in wood—the best Star boats in the world. He is a 34-year-old artisan from San Diego named Carl Eichenlaub, and his revulsion and distaste for fiber glass is equaled only by that of the teredo worm. "I'll give up building boats before I ever use that stuff," he says.

Carl Eichenlaub's friends sometimes refer to him as Eichenslob—and not without reason. He wears a T shirt that Marlon Brando would hesitate to spit on, and his torn and stained blue jeans hang at least three degrees below the equator of his waistline. For years nobody has known the precise color of his close-cropped hair, because it invariably is camouflaged by several coats of marine paint and is generously powdered with sawdust.

The San Diego, Calif. boatyard where Eichenlaub practices his art is not much tidier than its owner. Power tools smudged with grime and pitted with rust lurk here and there under huge, dirty tarpaulins. Snakes of mysterious pipe wend their way aimlessly about. Scraps of cedar and mahogany strew the ground along with bits of rusty cast iron. An ancient Star boat with daylight seeping through its open seams occupies the only clear space in the yard, and near it rests the skeleton of a half-finished cruising boat that belongs to a do-it-yourself amateur who somehow persuaded the yard owner to rent him a corner to work in. "We're going to load it up with two of everything so we'll be ready when the rain starts," explains Carl Eichenlaub laconically.

The office from which Boatbuilder Eichenlaub supervises this garden of prosperity consists largely of rows and rows of dusty paint cans, a few pieces of spare boating gear and a broad front window with a sign that announces firmly at all times of the day or night: "Closed."

"If I let them think we were open," says Eichenlaub, "people might come in and bother me."

Despite his precaution and because Eichenlaub-built boats have, at one time or another, dominated the Snipe class, the Lightning class and especially the Star class, people bother him anyway. An Eichenlaub Star won every world championship from 1957 to 1960 and again in 1963. Of course it helped to have skippers like Lowell North, Joe Duplin and Bill Ficker sailing them, but a good skipper sailing a good boat will beat a good skipper sailing a bad one every time.

Because there are more good skippers than there are good boats, orders for Eichenlaub's Stars pour in from all over the world. Even the Russians have shown some interest. But if an order does not contain a cash deposit, say those close to Carl, he just throws it into the waste-basket.

In this age of production lines, quality control and cost inventories Eichenlaub is characteristically vague about his yard's output. "Good Lord, I haven't the faintest idea," he said when asked how many Stars he had built altogether. But loose records lying around the shop show that he built at least 17 Stars last year at $3,400 apiece, 11 Lightnings at $2,200 and six Snipes at $1,425. He is equally vague about how long it may take him and his lone assistant, George Froshower, to complete a job.

Although Eichenlaub once built a Snipe in three days in a round-the-clock push to get it done in time for a championship, his methods are not those of a time-study production line. Star boats as a class are becoming so refined that there is little one boatbuilder can do to distinguish his boats except to do what the other builder does and do it better—and lighter.

Lightness is all-important in a racing boat, but there is a dangerous hairline separating the kind of jerry-built lightness that will come unglued the first time wind and wave hit the boat and the lightness that will translate to speed. Eichenlaub toes that line like a ballet dancer. He cuts and sands, paints and fastens with infinite care and in just the right proportions, and he carefully weighs each plank to check it for moisture before putting it in place. An Eichenlaub Star, fully rigged and ready to sail, can weigh as little as 1,365 pounds. This is only half what a comparable fiber glass day sailer might weigh. "You'll hear about Stars weighing 1,350 pounds," Carl concedes, "but they weigh them without rig and sail."

"In many ways Carl is a genius," says Lowell North, a sailmaker who has three times sailed himself to a world championship in Eichenlaub Stars. "Although some sailors on the East Coast may not agree, we on the West Coast know that he is the best."

There is some talk now among Star sailors on both coasts of admitting fiber glass hulls into their sacrosanct fleets. But the talk does not bother Carl Eichenlaub. He is confident that, fashioned by the right hands, a wooden boat will always triumph over one made of this alien material, and his confidence is not rooted in mere prejudice. After a yearlong study, he is convinced that the resins which hold the layers of fiber glass together to make a molded hull go on curing for months after the hull has been taken from the mold. This means, in Eichenlaub's view, that the boat will go on changing shape for as long as a year. Since one thirty-second of an inch in the wrong place would be an unthinkable horror in an Eichenlaub Star, these twisted monsters (in Eichenlaub's view) offer him no threat. "If a wooden boat changes shape," he says, "it's fairly easy to correct. With fiber glass, you're in a mess."

If what he says is true—the glass people strongly deny it—this might prove a reasonable argument against fiber glass. But Carl Eichenlaub has what he thinks is an even stronger one. "Boats," he says with the finality of a busy man who doesn't like a lot of foolish palaver, "are supposed to be made of wood."

http://si.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1076842/index.htm

Newport-Ensenada entries up, seminars on and Carl's in

Rich Roberts

March 13, 2009

NEWPORT BEACH, Calif.---When Carl Eichenlaub sails in the 62nd Newport to Ensenada International Yacht Race April 24 he'll go right past his bustling hometown of San Diego and beyond the border to a different sort of destination.

"It's a unique port of arrival," he said, "going to a foreign country and to a place as nice as Ensenada."

Other Southern California sailors agree. That's why entries are significantly ahead of last year at this same time before the race.

And that's why Eichenlaub, 79---onetime sailing champion, boatwright to the sailing community and to U.S. Olympic teams over three decades and now a member of the Sailing World Hall of Fame---has loved doing the race for most of his life, in recent years on his brightly colored Cadenza, a Nelson/Marek 45.

Cadenza, incidentally, is a solo passage in an orchestral presentation. When Eichenlaub isn't sailing or working on boats he plays oboe in a symphony orchestra.

He has sailed so many Ensenada races that he's lost count---"I don't have a clue"---but for those less experienced there are convenient shortcuts to much of Eichenlaub's knowledge about the 125-nautical mile race.

Much of what they need to know---schedule of events at both ends of the race, information about boat slips and lodging in Ensenada, non-race transportation for friends and family by bus or cruise ship--is available online in a new race promotional flyer.

Also, three free pre-race seminars organized by the Newport Ocean Sailing Association remain to acquaint newcomers and refresh veterans with the ins and outs of an international race:

March 18 at Shoreline YC in Long Beach;

March 25 at Dana Point YC in Dana Point;

March 26 at Bahia Corinthian YC in Corona del Mar.

The seminars will offer details on subjects such as starting procedure, GPS navigation (easier than it sounds), simplifying cross-border paperwork and race strategy.

"There's a lot of action in the race with a lot of boats," Eichenlaub said. "It's not often you get to sail against that many boats, and also the race is very challenging from a pure racer's standpoint. It has something for everybody. It depends on the year. Some years it's blowing hard, other years it's been nothing."

And there is always the choice to track inside or outside of the Coronado Islands at the border for the best breeze.

"There's a million different ways of getting down there," Eichenlaub said. "Over the years all of them worked at one time or another. There are the rock hoppers who stay within a mile of the beach all the way to Ensenada. Then there's the offshore group that goes out forever and ever, gets on a good line, jibes and heads for Ensenada. And there's the group that goes down the middle."

His best strategy?

"Well, I've sort of been conservative and gone just barely outside the Coronados and five miles beyond, and then decided at that point what course I want to sail . . . sort of a middle-of-the-road course, but it's averaged pretty well. The heroes are occasionally the rock hoppers or the offshore group, but the conservative group watches for wind shifts and generally averages out the best."

And when he gets there?

"There's a little restaurant called 'Two Steps Down.' It's the best."