Embedded Files
As the fall semester of the 1962 began, the Georgetown Varsity and JV Dad Vail Champions could look back with pride, and forward with the enthusiasm. The crew now numbered over 54 hearty veterans and was virtually undiminished by last June’s graduation. Even the smaller guys now had something to hope for as the lightweight crew began to take on reality.[1] There was now a fall training season that Coach Cadle had organized in the afternoons for the new recruits from the class of ’66. Even that numeral, ’66, was a hopeful symbol: the GU Crew was now in its second generation. These were Cadle’s men now; even for the seniors of ’63,[2] the Maletz era was only a brief and fading memory from their freshman year. And most importantly, they were conditioned to Cadle’s winning ways. So 1963 looked to be a very good year.
Our History must stand silent regarding events of the fall of 1962 for the simple reason that there is no report of any events! We can fairly assume that there was the usual recruiting throughout the dorms, and coaching of the freshmen in the afternoons, not much to warrant attention from the press, not even the friendly HOYA. But after the return to school in the new year, flyers appeared around campus:
'63 Varsity Crew early in the season (Domesday Book)
Pete Blyberg, Carl Haeger, Dave Casey, Doug Sergeant
Back:Fred Vollbrecht, Jim Mietus, Mike Mullin
Pat Doyle, Jack Hoeschler, asst. coach Jack Galloway
Cadle directs pre-dawn workout
1963 Ye Domesday Book
X
X
THE 1963 CREW SEASON BEGINS.
ALL INTERESTED
REPORT TO McDONOUGH GYM
IN SWEAT CLOTHES &
GYM-SHOES 6:30AM
FRIDAY JAN.4
FOR WORK TOWARD
VICTORY [3]
The Hoya, February 28, 1963
The Hoya, February 28, 1963
That winter proved to be unusually cold in Washington and the icy conditions on the Potomac delayed the start of rowing until the first of March. But once on the water, the coaches wasted no time preparing for the season’s opening race against Marietta on the Muskingum, March 30th.
The Dawn of the Lightweight Crew
The Marietta race would be the first time Georgetown would boat a lightweight crew, and despite the fact that they would still have to row alongside the heavyweights this first year, the spirit of the “skinnies” was high. They were finally going to get a fair shot at making their own varsity; and they eagerly embraced their new identity as lightweights, despite the added hardship inherent in that status: the constant concern with their weight as individuals and as a crew. The new squad epitomized the mental toughness that had been ingrained in the Hoya Crew from the beginning. Throughout the March workouts, Coach Al DiFiore[4] kept a sharp eye on his lightweight squad trying to identify the best combination to boat for their maiden race, and when the day came to pack the shells on the trailer, he had his nine:
First Lightweight crew races on the flooded Muskingum Mar 30, 1963
At bow: John Harrington, ‘64
2 Byron Sigg, ‘64
3 Jack Hardigg ‘65
4 Jim Lock, ‘65
5 Jerry Foust, ‘65
6 Rory Quirk, ‘65
7 Jim Hergen, ’65 [5]
Stroke: Bill Crusey, ‘65
Cox: Bill Harnist, ‘66
Perfect puddles by GU's founding Lightweight Crew
Bow-John Harrington, 2-Byron Sigg, 3-Jack Hartigg,
4-Jim Lock, 5-Jerry Foust, 6-Rory Quirk, 7-Jim Hergen,
Stroke-Bill Crusey, Cox-Bill Harnist
Just as the Georgetown Crew honors the original founders of ’61, so must we all honor these nine as our first “Skinnies” of ’63. [6]
Washington Post reports
March victory, 3-31-63
Rowing crew races on rivers in early Spring usually means having to contend with high water and swift currents, and this Spring was no exception, especially so on the relatively narrow and winding course of the Muskingum. The times that Saturday were more than a minute faster for the 2000 meters than they would be six weeks later for the Dad Vail on the placid Schuylkill. Earlier that week the river had been even higher and deposited a thick covering of mud along the banks. Georgetown had brought all three of its new boats for its freshman, JV and Varsity crews to race that dreary Saturday and so had good reason to be careful carrying their shells over the muddy walk to the slippery docks.
In the opening event that included GU’s first[7] and second[8] boats against Marietta’s frosh, the Hoya first boat lost to a very good MC crew by more than two and a half lengths: 5:06 over 5:12;[9] the GU second frosh time was 5:15. Remarkably, the winning time was faster than the JV time, and only eight seconds off the winning time in the varsity race.
Happily, Georgetown’s upperclassmen fared better against the Pioneers. In the closest contest of the afternoon, the Hoya heavyweight JV [10] seized a lead at the start and held it despite Marietta’s challenges. With both crews rowing 36spm the race was virtually even at the halfway mark, but from then on Hoya stroke Linc Hoffman showed his steady command by powering his crew into a two, and then a three seat lead crossing the line in 5:14 over Marietta’s 5:15.2. The margin was close but the Hoyas’ grace under pressure was impressive in this first outing.
Trailing the JV Heavyweights competitors, the brand new Hoya lightweights came across in 5:32. The explanation for this tardy arrival at the finish deserves our attention. As noted, the Muskingum course at high water is a navigational nightmare where strong eddies can accelerate or slow boats and create steering difficulties for crews and coxswains, especially a freshman coxswain used to the relatively benign currents of the broad Potomac.
As Rory Quirk recalls:
In mid-race we collided with the Marietta shell (the Muskingum course was really narrow) and it stopped us dead in the water. We finished possibly with only six oars operative after the collision, which would explain the 17 second differential. We were close when it happened thus the collision.
While their place and time were disappointing, the lightweights could take some consolation in the fact that they had rowed their first race in Georgetown’s pinstriped shirts.
The varsity race proved to be a repeat of the crews’ last meeting in the ’62 Dad Vail final, as the powerful Hoyas[11] again rowed away from the higher stroking Pioneers[12] (43 to 41spm) at the start, held off their mid-race challenge, and won by a comfortable six seconds: 4:58 to Marietta’s 5:04. The unbeaten string continued, but was soon to end.
April 14, 1963 Washington Post lauds Cadle and Georgetown crew
No races were scheduled for the next two weeks, April 6, and Holy Saturday, April 13, but at some point during that interim there occurred an exchange between Coach Cadle and his varsity that deserves retelling by Tiger Sergeant:
It came to pass in the relatively calm waters in the lee of Roosevelt Island that the Coach had me let ‘er run and asked us to count down from bow with our grade point averages. 3.7 for Vollbrecht and on to Mietus with a 3.9 then 4.0, 3.2, 3.6, 3.9 and 4.0. The count paused a bit at stroke and Casey said “2.2.” And then there was a longer pause, and a prompting “Tiger?” from the Coach, and I finally responded “1.8.” There was polite laughter from the crew and the Coach knowingly addressed Casey and me: “Ah, the brains of the outfit.”[13] (11/14/12)
The Ratzeburg Race
One of the most significant events of the first decade of the “Modern Era” of Georgetown rowing occurred on April 20th, 1963 when Georgetown hosted the visiting Olympic and World Champion Ratzeburg Rowing Club from Kiel, W. Germany. The diplomacy and logistics that went into the invitation to race on the Potomac are another story in the legendary career of Coach Don Cadle. Suffice it to say here that Cadle had friends in high places both in the US State Department and among the rowing fraternity in general. So along with his connections in Germany, he was able to ensure that Georgetown would be the first stop on Ratzeburg’s US tour that Spring.
The Karlisch or Tulip Blade was
introduced in 1959 and was the
preferred blade through 1991
In the early sixties, the Ratzeburg Club was a revolutionary force in international rowing. Their coach, Karl Adam was a professor of physics who had reconceived the nature of crew races as sprints to be rowed at the hitherto unheard of rate of 40+ strokes per minute, not just off the line, but throughout the entire race. Of course this demanded a different method of athletic conditioning, so Adam imposed a training regimen that stressed breaking out of the eight into small boats: sculls, pairs and fours; and rowing intervals: thirty to fifty strokes at maximum power followed by twenty to thirty light strokes, with no respite in between.
The higher stroke rate also required a new blade design, one that was shorter but wider and provided a more positive fulcrum at the catch. In shape, the new Karlish blades resembled a tulip, and so the name stuck: the “tulip” blades (or less elegantly, “shovels”) placed a premium on strength at the catch, so oarsmen had to resort to weight-training to use them effectively.[14] The result of this revolution was on display at the 1960 Rome Olympics, when Ratzeburg won the gold, and broke the American collegiate dominance in the eights.
But aside from their technical innovations, Ratzeburg worked a revolution in terms of the culture of Crew, especially in the United States where “crew” was virtually synonymous with elite Ivy League universities, the US Naval Academy, and a few large state schools like Wisconsin, Washington, and California. American college crews had won the gold in the eight-oar event every Olympiad since 1920. By contrast, US club crews were regarded as second tier, mere conveniences where alums rowed for recreation and college boys rowed to keep in shape for the real competition in the spring among the tradition-bound members of the Intercollegiate Rowing Association. It was presumed that any first rate college varsity would always beat even the better club crews; and in Olympic years, that the IRA champion would win the NAAO Nationals to represent the USA and bring home the gold.
Karl Adams founded the
Ratzeburg crew in 1953
Washington Times 15 Apr 1963
D. Cadle, P. Doyle, J. Galloway
D. Casey and M. Mullin
So in 1960 when Ratzeburg defeated Canada and Czechoslovakia to shut the Americans out of the medals, it was clear that something momentous was happening. Then four years later, when Vesper Boat Club soundly defeated the hitherto undefeated crews from Harvard and California in the trials on their way to recapturing the Olympic Gold for the USA, the shift in power was no longer in question. Club crews made up of veteran oarsmen skilled in small boats and used to the rigors of European (ie. German) style training were now the dominant factor in international rowing. In reporting Vesper’s conquest of Harvard in the ’64 Olympic Trials, SPORTS ILLUSTRATED (7/20/64) summed up the situation with the headline: “Anything that boys can do (men can do better.)” But we are getting a bit ahead of our story.
Ratzeburg’s victory at the 1960 Olympics was followed by the World Championship, and soon every crew on both sides of the Atlantic was experimenting with the new “German style” of rowing, and ordering their own “tulips.” In 1962 plans were laid for Ratzeburg to tour the USA and row against America’s best, which of course meant primarily America’s best college crews during the Spring of ’63. Given his connections, Coach Don Cadle was intimately involved in planning their tour, and managed to get Georgetown the first slot on the schedule.
Having won the ’62 Dad Vail, the undefeated Hoya varsity was the reigning “small college champion” and in the Spring of ’63 the boat was certainly one of the fastest crews ever to row for the Blue & Gray. Cadle had six veteran oars returning from the undefeated Vail boat: Fred Vollbrecht in bow, Jim Mietus 2, Mike Mullin 3, Pat Doyle 4, Jack Hoeschler 5, and Dave Casey at stroke; and to this core he added a powerful sophomore Pete Blyberg at 6, and a solid junior Bill Allen at 7. Tiger Sergeant, a junior, came in as cox; and that spring the boat just got faster with each race. Coming just two weeks before the Dad Vail, the Ratzeburg race was the real highlight of the season. St. Joes was the college rival that day, but for Georgetown, the real race would be against the supermen from Germany.
Washington Post April 14, 1963
Hoyas practice for Ratzeburg race; Varsity foreground
On April 19, 1963 the Kiel crew met John F. Kennedy
L to R: K. Adam, J. Plagemann, T. Ahrens, K.Aeffke
J.F. Kennedy, K.von Groddeck and H. Wallbrecht
As a friend of Karl Adam, Cadle had observed their workouts with a keen eye and thus was able to train his young rowers in the new high stroking style and prepare them physically and psychologically for this very special event. That spring, the varsity got used to rowing the full 2000 meter course at a beat of 36 to 38 spm, not counting the starts and sprints in the mid 40’s. The Hoyas adapted well to this training and their times continued to improve. Morale was excellent because they knew they were getting faster, and because they hoped to surprise the Germans and seize an advantage right at the start. It was part of Cadle’s magic that they were not intimidated but instead were quite happy in their role as underdogs.[15]
That they were indeed underdogs became quite obvious when the Ratzeburg crew arrived at the Thompson boathouse. These were men who looked every muscular inch to be the world champions they were. From the bow, their names were Horst Meyer, Jurgen Plagemann, Klaus Aeffke, Klaus Bittner, Hans Wallbrecht, Karl von Groddeck, Ingo Kliefoth, and Bernd Kruse at stroke; their 97lbs cox, Thomas Ahrens was a 14 year old whose only job was to steer – as little as possible.
As Tiger Sergeant recalls:
von Groddeck stands out in my mind’s eye. He was a real animal and huge. It would seem they would have to roll him down to the dock in a cage and unshackle him there and then hook him into the boat. He was the engine room. Cadle told us “Their shell momentarily lost its set in a wake just before their catch and von Groddeck smashed his pinky finger on the strut by the gunwale. Von Groddeck takes his stroke without so much as a wince, looked right at me, blew on his finger and set down another elephant puddle.”
Discounting Tiger’s hyperbole, Frank Barrett gives a less fanciful description:
Karl von Groddeck was about 28 and a massive person. He ran the boat and controlled the crew from the six seat. . . . He was not an “animal.” He was the heart and brain of the German boat. A quality person and a good guy to try to talk with and first and foremost a very large man and an excellent oarsman. (8/13)
Fred Vollbrecht adds that “von Groddeck was apparently a rock star among the young girls in Germany and many approached him later in the boathouse to get his autograph.”
Karl von Groddeck
A sizeable crowd gathers at Thompson
Boat House before the April 20 race
Whether brutes or heartthrobs, the Ratzeburgers were physically an awesome crew; among the Hoyas only the four man, Pat Doyle at 6’5, 210lbs. came close to the Germans in raw power. But our guys were more than ready to try to play David to this crew of Goliaths. They were psyched up by the weeks of preparation and eager to pull their surprise, and maybe even an upset. After all, they were faster than last year’s Vail boat, and still undefeated; and with a bit of luck anything might happen. Jack Hoeschler recalls Cadle’s prerace pep-talk making the point that “sometimes you win races you shouldn’t because of the spirit of the moment. You can do this.” Besides, as Cadle reminded them, even the Germans “put their pants on one leg at a time,” just like the Hoyas.
But Don was going a little further than relying only on the power of positive thinking. He gave the visitors GU’s newest and lightest eight, Inge, and as an added touch, had their foot stretchers moved up a notch; as Frank Barrett recalls:
I think Don wanted to win. I thought he felt they would be too big to row the Inge well – it was a small boat – stretchers were set short when we gave them the boat. Don figured they might not be familiar and make a mistake. At the end of the day he would do all possible (as long as ethical) to win. No edge would be given. (But notwithstanding,) They loved the smaller boat, kept the stretchers short, and flew. (Parenthetical added.)[16]
Whether this gamesmanship was aimed at Ratzeburg or was a sly psychological ploy to further boost morale among his Hoyas is an interesting question. But one thing is certain, Cadle loved the tactics of racing almost as much as the rowing itself.
The undercard for the afternoon featured an exciting freshman race that went right down to a very close finish as the Hoyas[17] narrowly edged out the St. Joe’s frosh by barely a foot in 6:43.7. The JV race was less suspenseful as the GU boat[18] came in with some open water over the St, Joe’s second varsity in 6:22.3.[19]
According to the NY Times (4/21/63) report, the weather that Saturday was far from ideal. The sky was clear and sunny but a strong 20 knot tail-wind blew down the river roiling the swift April current and creating heavy waves that caused some delay in starting the race. St. Joes had lane one closest to the Virginia side, Georgetown was in the middle in lane two, and Ratzeburg had lane three. All three lanes pass under the middle arch of Key Bridge. Eventually the three boats got pointed and the command was given: ROW!
The memories of this race should remind us of the old Japanese story, Roshomon, in which the participants’ accounts of the same incident vary in their details,[20] so the best way of rendering the race is to let them tell their own versions, and then in the same way that we view a mosaic of discrete pieces, we may step back to appreciate the composite as a whole.
Georgetown Varsity prepares to row
against Ratzeburg and St. Joe's
As Pete Blyberg recites the tale:
We started out at a high stroke[21] since Don knew that was what the Germans did, and it surprised them. We were with them for the first quarter, and maybe a half a boat length behind. By Key Bridge they had pulled out to a length, but we were holding our own and they were having to fight to keep their lead. We were right with them. It was about a hundred meters later that the crab happened . . . We lost by 1-1/2 to 2 lengths of open water. . . We were really disappointed, but were proud of the fact that we led the Germans at the start and pushed them into a real race and were right with them until the crab.
View of the race from Roslyn, just before Key Bridge
Pat Doyle tells the tale a bit differently:
The race started at about a 44 and we settled to 40. At the bridge we were down by about a seat. When we hit the island the margin was around three seats. When we passed that little dock that sticks out from the island we were still right with them but they were in the lead and our rate was probably the same as theirs, around a 44. St. Joes was never even close. With about twenty strokes there was a crab. . . Without the crab I still think we would have lost.
We were soundly beaten by around three lengths. Before the crab we were down by about ½ a length. There is no way you can make a mistake like that against such a good crew. Did I feel that we could have won the race? No. We were rowing our best prior to the crab and were still behind. I just think we would have lost by less, maybe a length but who knows.
Jim Mietus and Jack Hoeschler both recall that in the rough water the Germans took the advantage from the start and held a commanding lead throughout the race; in their memories it was the wind and waves that spelled the difference quite as much as the subsequent crab. From the coxswain’s seat, Tiger’s view looks like this:
We were psyched. Maybe too much so, all the way to “bloody-mindedness,” an English word coined by Cadle.[22] . . . The first thousand meters was extremely competitive with a Georgetown lead of about a deck length. Coming through the bridge they just took off and bested us by five lengths. . . . From my standpoint, they may have been toying with us, just sucking us in for the first thousand to destroy us in the last. We may never know. I do not remember the crab.
Washington Post captures race as boats
exit Key Bridge with Ratzeburg in lead
Tiger Sergeant parts the cheering crowd
as he guides the shell after the race
From up in the bow Fred Vollbrecht recalls the turning point under Key Bridge and lends support to the eye of the Tiger:
We were about three seats behind after the start (I was across from their three man.) We stayed pretty close down to the bridge which I think surprised the Germans. I never saw them look out of their boat as the race progressed. However, just before the bridge their six man, Karl von Groddeck looked over at us in perhaps what was a little surprise and perhaps panic at seeing us so close. In any case he bellowed out in a death defying shriek, “THOMAS, THOMAS! Machen Sie schnell ! Machen Sie schnell!” [23] This echoed back and forth under the bridge. . . I thought that the apparent panic in the engine room of their shell might allow us to win or finish very close to them, but then came the crab and we came to a complete halt in the rough water and current. By the time we restarted, Ratzeburg was many lengths ahead and our hopes of making a creditable showing had disappeared.
The times at the finish were Ratzeburg 6:03, Georgetown 6:15, and St. Joe’s 6:22.5.
In writing this part of our history, I have been acutely aware of the significance of this race in the memory of each person involved. The mosaic of memories centers on the closeness of the race until at one moment during the extraordinary tension of the race a man’s arm cramped and as a result he caught a crab and was unable to recover the rhythm and his crew came in a bit farther behind the world champions than they might have otherwise. To lose this way was a disappointment and something that no one forgets when he remembers that day. But it is well to remind ourselves that it was Ratzeburg’s maturity, experience, skill, and power quite as much as Georgetown’s crab that explain the loss which, as everyone concedes, was virtually inevitable coming out of the bridge.[24] Frank Barrett’s words recall the SI verdict on Harvard’s loss to Vesper a year later, “these were boys rowing against men,” and in those last eight hundred meters the differences became clear in the distance between the boats.
Ratzeburg’s victory that day was hardly a surprise to anyone, but the fact that Georgetown had stayed with them over the first 1000 meters, and had matched their withering stroke rate throughout did impress the cognoscenti who had come to observe the Germans first hand. The representatives from the Ivy League had expected to see an exhibition of championship style and speed, but what they didn’t expect was that the Hoyas would make their international debut with such éclat. This was no mere “moral victory,” but a clear signal that in its three years under Don Cadle Georgetown had grown from a club of casual novices into a disciplined rowing program worthy of respect even by the world champions.
In the aftermath of the race two things happened. Among the Germans there was some chagrin at what they evidently regarded as an embarrassingly close race. If the “small college” champs were able to push them hard from the start, what might happen when they encountered the major IRA contenders like Harvard, Yale, Penn, and Navy? They were now forewarned against any tendency to take their American competition lightly. On the Georgetown side, there was a subtle political shift among members of the University Administration who began to change their minds about the quality and the viability of the Crew, a “club sport” that until then they had regarded as something of a nuisance. The showing in this race, and the favorable press garnered by the Ratzeburg visit, were both likely factors in the University’s decision to double the Crew’s allowance for the 1963-64 season to $2000. This may seem a small amount, but this increase signified a major turning point in the status of the Crew vis a vis the University whose colors it wore.[25]
Even more than the Dad Vail victory the year before, the race with Ratzeburg in 1963 established Georgetown’s credibility and reputation among the nation’s top crews. Ratzeburg Race Program
Washington Post April 21, 1963 shows
winning Ratzeburg shell, looking very solo
The Singing Boat
1963 Varsity practice: Fred Vollbrecht bow, Dan Ebert 2
Mike Mullin 3, Pat Doyle 4, Jack Hoeschler 5, Peter Blyberg 6
Bill Allen 7, Dave Casey stroke, Tiger Sergeant cox
Despite the fact that the Ratzeburg race was a loss for the varsity and ended their unbeaten string, it marked a high point for morale that spring. As Frank Barrett recalls, “Georgetown got good press for rowing a strong race,” and the guys in the boat were justifiably proud of their performance. But that week there occurred an incident that impressed even Don Cadle, and became legendary as the day they made the boat “sing.”[26]
It happened during a race workout with the JV from the starting line above Key Bridge. As usual, the second boat was given a head start calculated to have the Varsity catch up in the last 500 meters so that the sprint would simulate a come from behind race the varsity would win by more or less depending on how fast both boats rowed. So off went the JV, followed shortly later the Varsity. The start was high, hard and solid, and the boat was really flying by the settle.
Approaching Key Bridge, they could hear the JV, and by the time they came out of the bridge they were drawing even. This was surprising in itself because unless the JV had crabbed they should still have been several lengths ahead at this point. The launch was now trailing closely behind the Varsity and weaving from one side to the other as Cadle watched intently.
By this time they had already passed the JV and were nearing the final 500; the launch drew along-side, and Cadle began to talk to the crew as they continued to row. Pat Doyle recalls the moment:
Very calmly he asked us to close our eyes and listen to the boat, and we would hear it make a singing sound. . . On the recovery the hissing of the boat was almost melodic. It was fascinating and definitely something you could hear. Then he asked us to keep on rowing past the finish line which was fast approaching. He wanted us to enjoy the moment and keep it going. He explained what it meant to make a boat sing. It was the perfect rhythm, all eight in sync, producing unbeatable speed through the water. . .To this day I remember that moment as if it just happened. Cadle told us that the boat was traveling at its ultimate speed which is why it sang.
Fred Vollbrecht also remembers that day.
The single thing that I have never forgotten was hearing our shell ‘sing’ during one of our practices. . . It was an amazing feeling as the shell rocketed ahead every time the bow settled back into the water after the finish with a kind of low volume whistle (whoosh.) I had been rowing since I was a freshman and had never even heard of a boat singing. For the first time I felt we were a really unbeatable crew. But alas, it was short-lived. We never again achieved whatever it took to make our shell do this.
This event became legendary in the years thereafter, and I can recall Goose exhorting us on our better days to make the boat “sing.” Of course none of us (except Pete Blyberg[27]) could know what that actually meant, and sadly, we never would.
Nevertheless, their boat “sang” that warm Spring day, and the incident may have convinced Cadle that he could not do much to improve the varsity,[28] so he turned the boat over to his assistant coach Jack Galloway for the interim and dedicated his attention to the freshmen in their preparation for the Dad Vail.
The Run-up to the Dad Vail
Jack Galloway[29] was a third year law student with his own ideas of how best to move boats and motivate men, and he believed that the varsity would benefit from a reversion to the “long and low” stroke of the pre-Ratzeburg era. So for the better part of those two weeks between the Ratzeburg race and the taper before the Dad Vail the varsity rowed long distances at 18 spm. For oarsmen of any era, 18spm is an extremely low stroke; at that rate each stroke takes three and one-third seconds. Such a regimen might have been appropriate had they been preparing for a four miler on the Thames, but the Dad Vail course is the Henley distance of a mile and five/sixteenths, just slightly longer than the Olympic 2000 meters As a temporary drill or as a respite, such a rate can serve to regain focus on fundamentals and finesse, but to spend days rowing at 18 seemed insane to a crew that had been training to row at 38 spm and above. As Jack Hoeschler succinctly explains, “It was frustrating.” Galloway’s rationale was that the crew would benefit from the grueling distances and thus be better prepared to “maintain their technique” for the shorter sprint races.
1.The LaSalle Race
The week after the Ratzeburg race, April 27th, LaSalle came to visit, and the varsity easily dispatched the Explorers, leading from start to finish by sprinting off the line at a brisk 45spm, settling down to 36, and then closing it out at 42; their margin of victory over the “puffing and straining Philadelphians” was two and a half lengths in the time of 6:08.6, ahead of 6:17.1
The hitherto undefeated Hoya JV suffered their first (and only) loss of the year when the Explorer second boat came across the line a length and a half ahead in 6:13.2. This would prove to be an especially painful loss as LaSalle’s JV failed to even qualify for the Dad Vail final two weeks later. In the freshman race, both the Hoya first and second boats led the way while LaSalle’s frosh trailed; the winning time was 6:27.0.[30]
2. The DC Area Regatta
Post 5May63
reports wins by
all 3 GU crews
The race for the Styron Cup,[31] emblematic of rowing supremacy on the Potomac, was rowed on May 4th against crews from GW, Howard, and American. The outcome was again reassuring: the Hoya crews scoring an easy sweep, winning all three races. In the Varsity race, the Hoyas cruised across the line three lengths ahead of the Colonials of GW, after leading by a length coming out of Key Bridge; the winning time was 6:41.2. Howard came in third, just ahead of Georgetown’s new Lightweight Varsity which bested the trailing heavyweights from American University.
The JV also won easily that day by four lengths over their own 3rd varsity and the mismatched second boats from American and Howard who “were never in the race.” [32]
But once again the most exciting race of the afternoon was the freshman event. The Georgetown yearlings[33] were leading their rivals into the last quarter mile when an errant canoeist suddenly paddled into their lane and caused a minor mishap with the boat’s starboard oars.
As three-man Jim Conley recalls:
As we were paddling upstream I noted several canoes and hoped they’d be out of our way when we raced down. No such luck! I’m sure we had open water on the other shells and had started taking up the stroke for our final fifty when suddenly, off starboard there was this eighteen foot Grumman with its canoeists trying desperately to turn, and as (Art Charles) had us “let ‘r run,” the canoe glided into Bill McNeill’s oar. I thought our soft-spoken, mild-mannered Bill was going to jump out of our shell and try to chase those amateurs off the water. He didn’t, which meant we could restart and claim a couple more shirts that day.
Luckily, the officials ruled “outside interference” and restarted the race from the point of the accident, and despite this distraction, the young Hoyas maintained their composure to win easily, leading Howard and their own second frosh boat over the finish line.
1963 Freshmen crew, L to R: Bart Edelen, Bob Zack, Jim Conley
Darro Angelini, Bill McNeill, Rocque Kramer, Dave Weir,
Jim Hanna; Art Charles, cox
The Dad Vail, May 10th & 11th, 1963
Washington Post 11May1963
The two freshman heats on Friday afternoon (May 10th) were both highly competitive with only a five second spread among the six qualifying crews. In the first heat the three qualifiers were Drexel 6:35.5, St. Joe’s 6:36.7, and Purdue 6:38.4; in the second, Fordham came in at 6:22, Marietta 6:24.4, and Georgetown 6:28.1. The final was similarly tight: Fordham won in 6:16.2, and Georgetown came in second at 6:19.9, followed by Marietta 6:21.7, Purdue 6:35.2, Drexel 6:39.8, St. Joe’s 6:43.
The three JV heats were a bit less tense, especially for the Hoyas who cruised to the finish in the second heat in 6:26, comfortably ahead of St. Joe’s in 6:40. The first heat qualified Marietta 6:21 and Amherst 6:24.6, and the third completed the final six with Rollins 6:27 ahead of Trinity in 6:35.2. In the final on Saturday afternoon the Hoya JV out raced Amherst, crossing the line in 6:11.9 ahead of 6:14.9; trailing were Marietta 6:18.6, Rollins 6:21.4, Trinity 6:23.4, and St. Joe’s 6:28.4.
(program)
1. The Varsity Races
'63 Dad Vail Varsity L to R: Linc Hoffman, Fred Vollbrecht, Pat Doyle
Coach Cadle, Mike Mullin, Bill Allen, Dave Casey, Jack Hoeschler
Peter Blyberg, Doug Sergeant, cox
Given the heady experience of rowing stroke for stroke with the World Champions, and these subsequent victories, the mood of the Varsity [34] before the Vail was one of assured confidence, not quite cocky: they still worked-out hard and took their customary preparations as seriously as ever (neither Cadle nor Galloway would have condoned any signs of complacency,) but nevertheless there was a subtle sense of anticlimax in those weeks after the Ratzeburg race. They all believed – with good evidence – that they would be the fastest crew on the Schuylkill that year, and they expected to repeat as Dad Vail Champions;[35] but such confidence can be a treacherous asset.
Having swept through the qualifying heats on Friday and Saturday morning[36] with that confidence undiminished, the Varsity was now poised for their last race.[37] The lanes for the final had Marietta in lane one on the far (western) side of the river, next to Drexel, Amherst, Georgetown, St. Joe’s and Wayne State in lane six. Marietta’s position in lane one gave them a slight but significant advantage that afternoon. In any six-boat race the crews on the outside lanes (one and six) are often shielded from the view of the crews in the center lanes, and in the midst of the frenzied first thirty strokes, this can make it difficult for these coxswains to keep an eye on the outside boats; this position may have played a part in the course of the race.
Stealing a page from Georgetown’s own book, Marietta went off the line at 44spm, and quickly gained a lead. Georgetown also went off high but couldn’t get out of the pack until after the settle but by then Marietta had a length lead on the field passing under the bridge. As the race entered the long straight-away to the finish, the smooth stroking Pioneers held an open water lead over Georgetown with Amherst a close third. Cox Tiger Sergeant discussed the situation with stroke Dave Casey; both were surprised at Marietta’s high stroke and expected that they would soon tire and begin to fade; no need to worry, yet. Recall that this was a crew they had met and defeated on the Muskingum six weeks before. But the race was now maturing, and Marietta had actually increased their lead. The boats were fast approaching Peter’s Island, and now it was time to worry. Casey and Tiger decided to let their crew know their position, as they called for their closing sprint. Amherst was also beginning their sprint to try to close their own gap with the Hoyas.
Goose Remuzzi gives advice to Dave Casey and Tiger Sergeant
after a practice on the Schuylkill before the Dad Vail 1963
Finally alert to their peril, Georgetown now knew that they were caught up in the race of their lives: two lengths down, with only about six hundred yards to go. Casey took the stroke up to 42, and the crew responded, and quickly began closing the gap, gaining about a seat every couple of strokes. As Pat Doyle recalls,
When we came through the bridge I thought we were leading by about 2 or 3 lengths. We could see the boat behind us. Only Tiger and Casey knew that Marietta in the far lane was actually leading. I believe if we had started our sprint at the bridge, we could have run them down. As it was we didn’t start our sprint until there was perhaps 700 meters left. Anyway, they told us we were behind, raised the rate and we pounded it to the finish. (7/18/12)
New York Times sums up '63 Dad Vail
May 12, 1963
By now Marietta despite stroking a smooth 40spm was coming back to the fast moving Hoyas. In third place, Amherst was also coming on fast. It was now a matter of whether the Georgetown crew had enough river left to run them down and nose them out. By the finish line Marietta held a smaller, but still decisive 6:06.5 to 6.09.7 margin of victory over the onrushing Hoyas. Amherst crossed the line in 6:12.7, followed by Wayne State 6:18.1, St. Joe’s 6:21.5, and Drexel 6:22.4.
For the seniors, Casey and Doyle especially, this was a bitter loss for a crew that considered itself the fastest in the Dad Vail Association. Frank Barrett summarizes the disappointment: “All we know is they were a strong experienced crew that had lost to a good crew they had beaten handily only a month before. They should never have lost.” (9/28/12)
Tiger’s postscript on the race poses a key issue:
In the ’63 loss of the Vail, I was criticized for not informing the stroke that Marietta was ahead of us, the feeling being, if he had known he could have taken it up. The other side of that is – do you race the other boats or just pay attention to rowing your “fastest” race. Was there something extra left over at the end of the day that was not expended? Still it was my job to tell him what’s in front and his job to tell me what’s behind. (7/17/12)
Jim Mietus makes an interesting albeit an unorthodox point about racing tactics that may help account for this surprising outcome. “Races are won by intelligence throughout the boat, by bow, two, three, and four, not just the cox and stroke.” This question of “intelligence throughout the boat” deserves consideration. Situational awareness is essential in racing and ought not to be dismissed out of hand by the customary admonition to “keep your eyes in the boat and your mouth shut.” Such discipline avoids the distraction and confusion that predictably results from seven guys looking around at the competition rather than focusing on their own stroke. Yet there may be exceptions to the rule. With a championship at stake, an experienced and seasoned crew must not only swing as one, but also communicate effectively as the circumstances demand.[38] A crew trailing by almost two lengths halfway through the race with no reaction from the cox, would seem to pose a reasonable exception calling for some sort of ex parte communication.
Packing up the equipment after the '63 Dad Vail
But to be quite honest and fair, we need to credit Coach Ralph Lindamood and his Marietta crew. Having had their own eleven race undefeated string broken by the Hoyas in their season opener, on their own course, the Pioneer varsity went to work with a will to prepare their comeback and after that initial loss they won every regular race in the ‘63 season. So they came to the Dad Vail well-prepared to win. Whatever might have been the tactical errors in the Georgetown boat Marietta seized a substantial lead at the start, built on it during the body of the race, and resisted the closing sprint of the on-rushing Hoyas to win their race. They proved they were better than “good;” they closed their season as Dad Vail Champions.
Postscript: The Summer of ‘63
17May1963 Hoya tells of crew's change of plans
Despite the Varsity’s disappointment at the Dad Vail, Cadle remained determined to keep to his optimistic plans for 1964: Win the Vail, attend the IRA, and enter the Olympic Trials. To prepare for this ambitious agenda he initiated a Summer rowing program for those willing to stay in Washington and endure two-a-day workouts. Not surprisingly – given Cadle’s charisma – there was no shortage of guys willing to sacrifice the more conventional joys of Summer for the rigors that Cadle had in store for them.
The optimism did have some solid basis in terms of the personnel at hand. Although it would prove hard to replace the power of Pat Doyle and the leadership of Dave Casey, the remaining seven members of the Varsity boat were still onboard: Vollbrecht, Hoffman, Mullin, Hoeschler, Blyberg, Allen, and Sergeant at cox. That was more than just a “nucleus,” it was an impressive crew by itself. The second place Vail Freshman boat also included a couple of big boys eager to crack the Varsity.[39] So that Summer Cadle had an experienced and enthusiastic crew returning after graduation to get ready for the campaigns of 1964.
Let Darro Angelini describe the Summer:
For me it was one of those “just keep putting one foot in front of the other” times.” . . .Most days involved two-a-day workouts on the water, or in the morning and a running workout on the track in the evening.
We lived pretty much in a state of subdued exhaustion. . .The practices were long and hard. Numerous configurations were looked at but in the end we stayed with the standard port/starboard setup. We got to the point toward the end of the summer that we knew we were moving the boat, but the constant state of tiredness from the workouts muted any sense of accomplishment.
Toward the last days the coaches eased up and the energy returned. We sensed a time trial coming, and shortly enough it was upon us. I don’t really remember the trial, but the boat moved well. It was a warm sunny morning and the water was relatively calm. After we crossed the finish line we eased up and looked over at the coach’s launch. There seemed to be some discussion and then they motored toward us and shouted the news.[40] The conditioning and hard work had paid off. The Olympic Trials the following summer suddenly seemed like something transforming from wishful thinking to possibility.
The summer ended on a positive note.
1. The 1963 National Championships
On the weekend of July 19-21st Georgetown entered two coxed-fours and its Summer eight in the Nationals in Philadelphia. This would be the Hoya’s first time rowing as a “club crew” as the Georgetown University Rowing Association. The GURA entries were two intermediate fours[41] an intermediate eight[42] and a senior eight.[43]
The second four placed sixth in the final coming in behind Riverside B.C. 6:43.8, Lake Washington B.C. 6:47, Detroit B.C. 7:03, Vesper B.C. 7:05, and West Side R.C 7:13.6.
The Hoya Intermediate Eight came in a respectable fourth (6:34.5), behind first place Detroit B.C. 6:17, Potomac B.C. 6:22, St. Catharine’s R.C. 6:26.1, but ahead of West Side R.C. 6:39, and Vesper B.C. (no time given.)
2. Postscript: The Romance of Raunch
But that Summer was memorable for more than grueling workouts and disappointing races. There were other more enjoyable opportunities waiting the boys of summer when they weren’t rowing, running or working. While it is true that Summer in DC was a series of days that began with sunrise workouts on the Potomac, and ended in sweat-damp sheets in a stifling dorm room, it is also true that in between there were impromptu parties, road trips, pig-outs at “all you can eat” buffet tables in Waldorff, MD, ice cream sundaes at Gifford’s, and evenings spent with college and working girls looking for male companionship or even a Summer romance. All this without any need to write term papers, study for tests, or visit a library. In short, staying down for the summer promised all the fun of college with none of the academic burdens.
And then there was the undeniable romance of raunchiness itself. According to the survivors of that summer of ‘63, there was nothing like the squalid ambiance of the rooms on the second floor of McDonough Gymnasium. (That summer the crew was granted the rooms above the gym; for reasons to be described, no one else would be interested in occupying them. [44])
The gym lay in the open sunshine on the western edge of the lower field and lacked air-conditioning to deal with the cumulating summer heat. By noon on a sunny June day the temperature in the eastern facing rooms could average in the mid-nineties, and the roof over the gym absorbed and retained the day’s heat throughout the muggy night.
For readers who’ve grown up in air-conditioned homes, schools, shopping malls and cars, the madding effects of such relentless heat are difficult to appreciate. Of course there is the constant sweat, the clothes that cannot dry, and so are never fresh; the resulting thirst, and the continual quest for cold drink in a landscape devoid of water coolers. On those too frequent days when the temperature was matched by Washington’s notorious humidity the atmosphere in those rooms can hardly be imagined unless you can picture the infamous “black hole of Calcutta” with the lights on. Let a few details from those who endured[45] suffice to set the mood.
First, there was the plumbing. As Bill McNeill explains, the water main supplying McDonough was not only set at a relatively shallow depth but ran under the old parking lot and adjacent athletic fields to the west of New South (in the area now occupied by the Jesuit residence and the Southwest Quadrangle.) Since there was minimal demand for water in the deserted gym during the summer months, the volume in this main moved only sluggishly, if at all; and being covered by the superheated asphalt of the lot and the dry grass of the field, the line delivered water to the “cold” taps that was well above 100°. This meant that the denizens of the dorm could not even enjoy the momentary relief of a cool shower. And remember that this was years before the Yates Field House and its Olympic pool were opened.
Then there were the insects that owned the night, the pedestrian cock-roaches and the flying swarms that dotted the walls and ceilings of lighted rooms.
So adding the heat, humidity, the warm water, and the bugs to the close living conditions of young athletes never noted for being fastidious, one begins to understand the collective madness that permeated the dorm that summer.
Was it disgusting? Certainly; but that is probably the wrong question to ask. More interesting is why would well-educated and well-bred young men allow themselves to live like this? Aside from the mitigating fact that they didn’t actually chose this particular dorm, there is the consideration that left to their own devices and absent any civilizing feminine (ie. maternal) influence or externally imposed discipline, young men will tend to sink to their lowest common threshold of raunch and at some point they accommodate to it, more or less. It is as if their tolerance and comfort levels are on a sliding scale, and past a certain point, they take perverse pride in discovering what those nether levels might be. Dostoevsky wrote that “man is the animal that can get used to anything,” and that summer in McDonough would support his view. Hence the familiar term “animal house.”
[1] “Georgetown’s Little Known Champions,” an article in THE COURIER, (April/May, 1963) by Bob Valerian & Tom Timberman:
“After starting the season with 150 men the crew is now composed of 54 members divided into three heavyweight boats: the varsity, junior varsity, and third varsity, one lightweight varsity boat, and two freshman boats.”
[2] Casey, Haeger, Keating, Maloney, McGuire, Mietus, Risser, and Ritter rowed under Maletz for only a few weeks in March of ’60. Pat Doyle never even knew Maletz since he was recruited off the Basketball team in Fall of ’60 after Maletz’s departure.
[3] What is historically interesting about this flyer is Dean Conley’s (’64) illustrations at the top, sketches of both the Dad Vail Bowl, and the Callow Cup, as well as words “IRA?” and “Eastern Sprints?” The Callow Cup it is the trophy awarded to the winner of the Dad Vail Junior Varsity race; but it is also an annual race for lightweight crews of Navy and Penn where Rusty Callow was a legendary coach. So granted that the reference is ambiguous if not prophetic, was someone already thinking ahead to the formal establishment of GU’s Lightweight Crew? The almost instant success of the Hoya Skinnies at the Eastern Sprints in 1964 would soon vindicate our hopes.
[4] The creation of a Lightweight crew naturally meant that what had formerly been simply “the crew” now became two divisions: Heavyweights and Lightweights. Initially (in Spring of ’63) there was just the one lightweight eight coached by Al and Frank that raced “mostly as a JV entrant” against heavyweights (Frank Barrett, 12/8/12.) As for the heavyweights, Don handled the Varsity & JV, and Jack Galloway the freshman.
Vin Bova provides some interesting background on the formation of the lightweight crew out of the 3rd varsity of 1962:
As luck would have it there were just enough bodies to make a third eight and even better we had some former prep school rowers, Kim Esteve and Carlos Sarmento, but also everybody was a lightweight except me. That changed in about a month!! That eight was the precursor to the lightweight program that developed soon after. (5/6/13)
[5] Jim Hergen was the first Captain of the Lightweights.
[6] In treating this as the first “Lightweight” crew, I acknowledge that I am risking controversy, so an explanation is called for. Whether this crew would actually have met the official weight requirements for a lightweight crew (150lb average, and no man >155lbs) is a moot point since there was no weigh-in. Because they were only competing against heavyweights there was no question of meeting the weight standard that first year (‘63.) So technically, the first crew to weigh-in as lightweights was the 1964 crew. Nevertheless, the ’63 crew bonded and identified itself as “skinnies” and rowed as such (see the race program for that date which lists them as “GEORGETOWN LIGHTWEIGHTS”) at Marietta in 1963. For that reason I submit that they deserve their honor as the “First” (or perhaps we should say “proto-“) GU Lightweight Crew. Rory Quirk argues to the same point:
The ’63 LW crew was the first. Because of our newness we didn’t get on established lightweight schedules. We rowed Marietta’s JV and we were going to scrimmage Navy’s LWs midweek (but that never happened.) Otherwise we got thrown into HW races where (as you would expect” we fared poorly. So our LW record in ’63 was 0-1, but it was a GU LW crew.
[7] The first GU freshman boat was, from bow: Bart Edelen, Tom Walker 2, Jim Conley 3, Jim Hanna 4, Bill McNeil 5, Darro Angelini 6, Fred King 7, Rocque Kramer str, and Art Charles cox.
[8] In essence, this “second” boat was the lightweight “first” freshman boat , from bow: Terry Sullivan, Dan McEvily 2, John Mahoney 3, Nick Carlucci 4, Glenn Farris 5, Jim Leahigh 6, Dave Weir 7, Bob Zack str, and Dave Feliciano cox
[9] The six second spread for a two and a half length lead is evidence of the speed of the current.
[10] The heavy JVs, from bow: Rick Reynolds, Dean Conley 2, Ben Domenico 3, Mark Pisano 4, Marc O’Brien 5, Dan Ebert 6, Carl Haeger 7, Linc Hoffman str, and Russ LaMantia cox.
[11] From bow: Fred Vollbrecht, Jim Mietus 2, Mike Mullin 3, Pat Doyle 4, Jack Hoeschler 5, Pete Blyberg 6, Bill Allen 7, Dave Casey str, and Tiger Sergeant cox.
[12] The GU varsity remained virtually the same as the prior year (only the cox and six-man graduated); by contrast, the Marietta boat retained only three men from their ’62 runner-up boat and even included two freshmen. GU definitely had the advantages in both size (averaging 6’2” and 185lbs to 6’1 and 180lbs) and experience over the younger Pioneers.
[13] Humor and strict accuracy aside, I would be willing to bet that among the varsity sports at GU, the Crew had the highest GPA. It is certainly an interesting discussion topic among our high-achieving alumni/ae.
[14] For a comparison of the Pocock and Karlish oars see the appendix.
[15] In a Washington Star article leading up to the race, Cadle admitted candidly, “I’d say the odds are about 100 to 1 against us beating Ratzeburg.”
[16] The issue of the boats in this race is interesting. It is certain the Germans rowed The Inge, because that fact was reported in a Washington Post article (4/20/63) on the race, and reaffirmed by Frank above. The question of the Varsity’s boat is less certain, but Frank writes “I believe the varsity rowed the Duffy versus the Germans.” (11/30/12) This makes sense as The J.P.B. Duffy ’01 would have been brand new that April, and so presumably Georgetown’s best bet. Unfortunately however, Frank has also opined that the Duffy proved to be “a lousy boat – big, heavy, clunky.” See note 28 below for more about the unlucky Duffy.
[17] From bow: Glenn Farris, Darro Angelini 2, Bart Edelen 3, Bob Zack 4, Dave Weir 5, Rocque Kramer 6, Bill McNeill 7, Jim Hanna str, and Art Charles cox.
[18] From bow: Ben Domenico, Mark Pisano 2, Bob Valerian 3, Dan Ebert 4, Marc O’Brien 5, Terry Jerge 6, Carl Haeger 7, Linc Hoffman str, and Russ LaMantia cox.
[19] “Ironically (the varsity race) was the only race Georgetown lost all day. Georgetown’s third varsity and frosh ‘B’ eights swept American U in a morning regatta.” THE HOYA, 5/2/63
[20] One possible reason for these variations might be that the staggered starting and finish lines on the Potomac course give an apparent advantage to lanes on the DC side at both the start and the finish to compensate for the wider turns they must make passing under Key Bridge. All crews row the same 2000 meters, but a crew (GU) on an inside lane that appears to be rowing a half-length behind the crew on its port (DC) side is actually even with it. Conversely the staggered finish means that the inside (VA side) crew must be half a length ahead just to finish even with an outside (DC side) competitor. In the heat of a race the respective “leads” as viewed by the oarsmen can thus be quite different depending on whether they are factoring in the staggers at start and finish.
[21] The NY Times gave GU’s strokings as 44 spm at the start, settle to 40, and finished at 44.
[22] In Cadle’s usage “bloodymindedness” connoted the desperate resort to brute muscle-power to move the boat rather than power tamed by technique and “finesse.” Such unbridled aggressiveness is self-defeating in something as delicately balanced as an eight-oared shell.
[23] Literally, “Let’s make haste!” In essence, “Take the stroke up and let’s get away from these guys.”
[24] A photo taken from Key Bridge shows Ratzeberg with a lead of more than a length at or just before the crab.
[25] It is a point of pride that Georgetown’s colors, Blue and Gray, were originally worn by the crew of 1876 to symbolize the unity of oarsmen from Northern and Southern states after the Civil War.
[26] In the aftermath of the Ratzeburg race, Linc Hoffman ’65 challenged Jim Mietus and took the 2 seat in the Varsity, so the crew that “made the boat sing” was Vollbrecht, Hoffman, Mullin, Doyle, Hoeschler, Blyberg, Allen, Casey, and Sergeant at cox.
[27] Pete was the only member of that crew to row (as a senior) with the subsequent Varsity of ’65 that included your author.
[28] Frank Barrett: “Cadle wanted to coach the freshmen, (he) felt varsity couldn’t lose and hoped to speed up the frosh.” (8/10/12)
[29] “I graduated from LaSalle College in 1957, entered the Navy, and arrived at Georgetown Law School in mid-September of 1960. I was not involved with the Georgetown Crew until spring of 1962.” 1/2/13. Jack was a seasoned oarsman, having rowed for West Catholic H.S. and in LaSalle’s Dad Vail Champion eight of 1957. His four principles of coaching were technique, conditioning, equipment and enthusiasm. Cadle provided the equipment, and the oarsmen had to bring the enthusiasm, but the technique and conditioning came from lots of “miles . . . miles (were) the secret to maintain technique in the last quarter.”
[30] Results reported in the Hoya, May 2, 1963, and provided thanks to Dean Conley. 12/23/12, and Bill McNeill 12/26/12.
[31] This was the second year for this annual regatta among DC crews, and the first year it would have its own “Styron Trophy,” donated by M.J. Styron, a local boat dealer. It would later become “The Cadle Cup.”
[32] The HOYA, May 9th, 1963.
[33] From bow: Bart Edelen, Bob Zack, Jim Conley, Darro Angelini, Bill McNeill, Rocque Kramer, Dave Weir, Jim Hanna at stroke and Art Charles as cox.
[34] From bow, Fred Vollbrecht, Linc Hoffman, Mike Mullin, Pat Doyle, Jack Hoeschler, Pete Blyberg, Bill Allen, and Dave Casey at stroke, and Tiger Sergeant as cox.
[35] Another reason for their good mood was that they would be racing in a brand new shell: The J.P.B. Duffy,’01. This was the fourth Pocock eight to arrive as many years, thanks in greatest part to the unstinting generosity of Don & Inge Cadle. See Art Charles story “Freshman Hi-Jinks” which tells of this new shell’s first tryout by the freshmen (class of ’66.)
[36] On Friday, the Varsity won their heat in 6:37 over Marist 6:44.4, and Purdue 6:44.8; in the Saturday morning semifinal they won in 6:14.4 over Drexel 6:18.4, and Amherst 6:24.7. The other qualifying finalists were: Marietta 6:14.3 over St. Joe’s 6:16.5, and Wayne State 6:18.9.
[37] One innovation that Coach Cadle introduced for the Dad Vail was a system of electric bells under the seats that enabled the coxswain to signal his crew non-verbally without alerting competitors.
[38] An example. One extremely foggy morning in the spring of ’65, Russ LaMantia was coxing our boat under Key Bridge and mistaking the second Virginia Arch, was steering blindly into the old aqueduct abutment. Had it not been for the “situational awareness” of the bow-man, Rick Reynolds, who ordered “HOLD ALL!” we might have run into the abutment, lost the shell and risked our lives in the still wintry waters of the Potomac. This is not to blame the Russ; the conditions were awful, and visibility was extremely limited; but it does make the point that under extraordinary conditions cox and stroke may need all the information the other seven guys can provide.
[39] The two who did make it into the boat that summer and Varsity the following Spring were Bill McNeill and Darro Angelini who rowed the 3 and 4 seats in 1964
[40] Assuming that this was the same trial, the time was indeed impressive: 5:48 for the 2000m (Mark Pisano, 6/21/12). which might well be the fastest time for any GU eight that entire decade.
[41] The first four, rowing in the second heat Friday at 6pm is listed as: from bow, John Harrington, Rocque Kraemer, Fred King, and str. Darro Angelini; the cox is not listed. The second four rowing in another heat Saturday afternoon is listed as: from bow, Bill Allen, Terry Jerge, Ben Domenico, str. Marc O’Brien; this second four was coxed by Art Charles according to the Washington Post report.
[42] It is likely that this intermediate eight was composed of the oarsmen from the two fours.
[43] It must have been a senior eight since under NAAO rules Vollbrecht, Hoeschler, Mullin, and Casey had become senior oarsmen when they won the Dad Vail in 1962. The boating for the eight was: from bow, Fred Vollbrecht, Linc Hoffman, Bill McNeill, Jack Hoeschler (?), Mike Mullin (?), Pete Blyberg, Bill Allen, str. Dave Casey, and cox Art Charles. The questions arise from that fact that both Hoeschler & Mullin are starboard oars. It is likely that Mullin rowed four and Hoeschler five.
[44] Supporting evidence for this underutilization comes from Fred King who recalls that there was a sizable plant growing out of the dirt that had accumulated in a corner of his room. Fred watched it grow all summer.
[45] Among them, Darro Angelini, Bill McNeill, Art Charles, and Fred King, all of the class of ’66.
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