The Race, and Why Yale Lost It

THE race between Harvard and Yale at New London, on the 27th of June, differs from most boat races in one essential particular: there is no room for dispute as to the cause of the defeat of the losing boat. In tolerably close races, any one of a dozen explanations of the result may often be correct. It may be the stroke, it may be the steering, it may be some such accident as a “ crab; ” if the interval which separates the boats at the finish is only a length or two, it is impossible to disprove with conclusiveness any particular explanation. All that can really be said is that one boat made better time than the other. But when one boat comes in after a straight-away four-mile race one minute and forty-three seconds behind the other, it is clear at the outset that there must be some single and simple reason for the phenomenon. That reason in the case of the New London race was merely that Yale’s rowing was seriously Inferior to Harvard’s in every way that the rowing of one boat can be inferior to the rowing of another. If there could be a doubt about this in the mind of anybody who saw this year’s race only, the result of last year’s contest would remove it; for the races of the two years were precisely identical in character, except that the defeat of Yale was less overwhelming in 1878 than in 1879. In both cases the race was over before it was fairly begun; and in both cases, too, the result was known in advance by all the rowing men who cared to know it. Although an impression prevailed in New York before the race that it was going to be a close one, and bets were made on Yale in that supposition, it was perfectly well known in New London all along that the chances were heavily in favor of Harvard, and bets on the race were in consequence almost an impossibility. It may be worth while, by the way, as the world is given to betting on races, to throw out a hint here for the benefit, let us say, of the parents of those about to bet. An amateur boat, race differs from almost all other athletic contests in the fact that, if there is any marked difference in the competing crews, expert rowing men can almost always predict with great accuracy the result. This cannot be done in a horse race, because there are moral influences at work in horse races which produce the most surprising and unexpected results. The man who should undertake to predict the result of a six-day walk for the Astley belt would be pretty sure to be wrong. (If any one doubts these statements, let him look at the odds against the winning horse in the last Derby, and against the winning man in the walk in Agricultural Hall, in last June.) But with a fairly rowed boat race (as all amateur boat races may be expected to be), a trained rowing man who understands the “ points ” of a crew can, after seeing two rival crews row a few times, tell with wonderful certainty which will be successful. Every year this happens in England, where the result of the Oxford-Cambridge race is predicted with a confidence usually completely justified by the event. The advice which we would therefore give to the parents of those about to bet would be that they should early instruct their children, with regard to those athletic events which are likely to play such an important part in the life of every young man now entering upon life, that they ought never to risk money on a boat race on the strength of information obtained at a distance. On the ground they will always learn what the chances really are. Of course we do not offer this advice to such youthful enthusiasts as bet on their favorite college without regard to the chances. On such persons, though their honest zeal may be admired, advice is wasted.

To return to the race: the arrangements of the authorities at New London are almost as good as arrangements which have not behind them a strong physical force can be. For an ideal boat, race, it would be necessary that the police power of the local committee should be absolute. The water ought to be kept entirely clear of craft of all kinds, and power sufficient to accomplish this end ought to be lodged somewhere. But no method has yet been discovered, at least in American waters, of attaining this ideal. Most races are managed as the Harvard and Yale race now is at New London, by a volunteer local committee, which makes regulations, but cannot, in extreme cases, enforce them. Bearing this inherent difficulty in mind, the success of the arrangements this year for a clear course was really remarkable. None but official boats were allowed to come upon it, and over the last part, of it a lane was made by a double line of row-boats, which prevented interference very successfully. It must be Said, however, that the finish is attended with a good deal of confusion and danger to the eights. Round this point are collected an immense number of vessels and boats of every shape, size, and description,—yachts, steamers, sloops, schooners, and lesser craft; and the moment tlie race is over there is a very strong tendency to crowd down upon the racing crews. In such a race as that of this year, the tendency is diminished by the lack of excitement among spectators who have known from the first what the result was going to be; but in a closely contested race, the danger and confusion would be considerable. There is no way, probably, of preventing this short of the exclusion of all boats from even a distant approach to the finish, — an interference with the liberties of the high seas which, perhaps, would not be endured.

There is one minor improvement in another branch of the arrangements, however, which might be made; and indeed we are surprised that, after the experiment of last year, it was not insisted upon this year. It is one of the traditions of American boat races that the press should have a boat from which to see the race. This boat follows the eights the whole length of the course, and is supposed to afford to journalists a magnificent opportunity of seeing it. This opportunity would in fact be afforded if the press boat went alongside of the racing boats, but following behind, and at a considerable distance, furnishes no opportunity at all. It is often Impossible, from this point of view (provided the race is a close one), to tell which boat is ahead; and it is never possible to form any clear idea of such matters as the stroke, or the style and “form” of the crews. Of course, if there were no better place to see the race from, not a word could be said; but there is at New London a far better place. The moving grand stand, consisting of a train of cars propelled along a railroad running nearly parallel with the entire course, is such a place. From this train every part of the race is distinctly seen—very much as a, play is seen at the theatre—with the exception of the finish; and any newspaper which wishes to obtain an accurate account of the race has only to station one expert reporter in the train, and another at the grand stand. Why the press allows itself to be placed on a boat, from which it must get altogether distorted and erroneous views of any closely contested race, is one of the mysteries of the local management, or of journalism, which we do not understand.

The race of June 27th is easily described. The hour fixed was 4.30, but, owing to a light breeze, tlm boats were not ordered into line by the referee till much later; and after coming out they were ordered back again, to enable Yale to repair a “ crack,” as we understood the matter at the time, made in her boat. In order to get a correct notion of the New London race, it must be remembered that the river Thames runs north and south, and that the start is four miles above the town, the course being straight from this point down to the finish. The grand stand, consisting of some twenty-five open cars, with awnings and very comfortable seats, is moved out from the station to a point exactly opposite two small scows anchored at the “ start,” in which two little boys are visible, waiting to discharge their responsible functions as starters. When the time comes, each little boy will firmly hold the stern of his respective boat in place, until, at the word “ go,” the race begins. These boys were eagerly watched on the 27th of June, for their appearance was held by the passengers on the moving grand stand to justify the inference that there was not going to be a postponement. Nearly three hours were consumed in waiting, before it was absolutely certain that there was going to be a race. These delays, however, invariably occur on any water which is exposed to the action of the wind, and at New London must be expected. Finally, between seven and eight o’clock, as the day was fast beginning to fade, and the shores and waters of the beautiful Thames River were growing more and more picturesque in the mysterious twilight, the two boats got into line, and lay at “ready” just under the west bank of the river, not a stone’s-throw from our movable stand. If the truth must be told, it was impossible to see the crews paddle up to the starting boats without forming an unfavorable conclusion as to Yale’s chances. Appearances of this sort, however, are very deceptive, and the only sure test is the racing stroke in full play. At last, the referee gave the word, and the crews were off. Yale appeared to have the advantage for a period of time which it would be safe to estimate at a second and a half. After that the race was over, Harvard pulling steadily away from her to the finish, increasing her distance at each mile, and winning by the extraordinary difference of one minute and forty-three seconds. The winning boat did not make remarkable time, for 22.15 over a four-mile course, with the tide aiding, is nothing to boast of. But as far as could be judged by appearances, Harvard made no attempt, at good time. At, the finish, a very pretty spurt showed what might have been done at a pinch; but except for this half minute, or minute, no effort seemed to be made by Harvard at all.

It would be a mere waste of time to go into the details of the rowing of the two crews. The difference between them was that one rowed well, and the other did not row at all. This is no exaggeration, for it is perfectly clear to any one with the slightest knowledge of rowing that as long as Yale continues to use its oars in the way it did at New London on the 27th of June it will, barring accidents, always be beaten. To point out the faults of its method of rowing would simply be to enumerate every one that can exist. The stroke is not “ pulled through ; ” in other words, the oar is taken out. of the water before it has done its proper amount of wort:. In saying this we have no intention of reviving the old dispute as to two different styles of rowing, supposed to represent respectively a Harvard and a Yale theory of the art; the Yale stroke is nothing at all, and no perseverance in it can bring it to anything. Besides this, the rowing of Yale was all at loose ends. At a distance of half a mile you could see men “hanging” and “meeting.” In fact, the Yale boat at the start looked as a crew might be expected to look at the end of a race in which they had pulled themselves “ to pieces.”

The statistics of the crew this year are given as follows by the official Bulletin : —

HARVARD UNIVERSITY CREW.

YALE UNIVERSITY CREW.

From those statistics it will be seen that the average weight of the Harvard oars was six and one half pounds greater than that of the Yale crew, while the weight was more evenly distributed in the boat; the average age was more than a year greater, while the average height of Yale was two inches above that of Harvard. Taking these facts into consideration, in connection with the appearance of the men as they sat in the boats, it is safe to say that the material of the Harvard crew was appreciably better than that of Yale, apart from all question of the method of rowing.

The intercollegiate rowing “ record ” of this country nominally covers a period of twenty-eight years, but this is in reality a great exaggeration, as the facts, when examined in detail, at once show. A record of this kind, to have any value as such, should be one relating to the same college, the same sort of boats, the same length of course, and the same system of rowing. But in all these respects there has been, during the twenty-eight years from 1852 to 1879, a radical and serious want of uniformity. From 1852 to 1860 there were six races. Of these, the first (1852) is described as a “ two-mile straight pull to windward in eiglit-oared barges,” and took place on Lake Winnipiseogee. The time is given as “ about ten minutes.” The second (1853) was at Springfield, on the Connecticut, “ one and a half miles down stream and return in barges; ” the boats (Harvard and Yale) being eight-oared, four-oared, and six-oared, with eleven seconds handicap per oar. The time of the winning crew was twenty-two minutes. Afterwards there were two races (1859) between Harvard and Yale on Lake Quin sigamond, at Worcester, “one and a half miles up the lake and return; " the Harvard shell winning in nineteen minutes, eighteen seconds, on July 26th, and the Yale shell winning on the next day, in nineteen minutes, fourteen seconds. The next year, over the same course, Harvard won in eighteen minutes, fifty-three seconds. In 1860, over the same course, there was a race between Freshman and Sophomore lap-streaks, which can hardly be included in our record. From 1852 to 1860, therefore, there were exactly two years in which the conditions of the university race remained the same; and if the races had continued, no doubt there would have been in a short time a standard of comparison furnished as to races between six-oared shells on inland waters, over a three-mile course with a turn, by which subsequent racing might have been tested. Unfortunately, the outbreak of the war in 1861 brought college racing to a stand-still, and for three years there was an interval during which no races were rowed. Between 1864 and 1870 there were seven contests between Harvard and Yale, of which Yale won two and Harvard five. This was followed by a period of six years, from 1871 to 1876, which witnessed the substitution of a straight-away three-mile course for the old course with a turn, while the annual Harvard-Yale race was magnified into a general intercollegiate regatta, in which, in one year, no less than thirteen colleges took part; the place of rowing being meanwhile shifted to Saratoga. Down to this time it should be remembered that the system of having the steering done by the bow-oar with his feet was persisted in. After 1876, Harvard and Yale withdrew from the Rowing Association of American Colleges, and reintroduced the old college race; but this was again modified into a four-mile straight-away race between eight-oared boats, with a coxswain. In the four races which have since taken place the water has been changed once, so that the record as to time is as yet rather more unsatisfactory as to eight oars than it once was as to six oars. In 1876 Yale beat Harvard at Springfield in twenty-two minutes; two seconds. In 1877, Harvard won on the same course in twenty-four minutes, thirty-six seconds. In 1878, at New London, Harvard won again in twenty minutes, forty-four seconds, which time was lengthened this year to twenty-two minutes, fifteen seconds. Looking at this history from beginning to end, it is difficult to deduce any certain conclusions whatever from it. It will need several more years of races of the sort now rowed — and of closely contested races, too — before it will be possible to fix upon any standards of eight-oar college races as normal. What can be said at present is that, in all human probability, as long as Yale persists in her present method of rowing Harvard will continue to beat her four times out of five.

The withdrawal of Harvard and Yale from the Rowing Association in 1876, after a series of races in which the prestige of both colleges had been lowered by being beaten by universities not hitherto looked upon as rivals, was bitterly criticised at the time. The withdrawal was justified by its advocates on various grounds. Harvard and Yale, it was said, are, and probably always will be, the two great universities of the country ; they are the oldest, most popular, and by common consent the best. There is consequently a great rivalry between them, which makes a contest between them on any common ground interesting to the public. To put the matter in another way, the number of people interested in the rivalry between Harvard and Yale is vastly greater than the number of people interested in the rivalry between any other colleges. Consequently, Harvard and Yale base-ball matches or races have always been looked upon as the most important college athletic contests of the year. It is not that the public or rowing men look at the time made by the wanning crew as a test of good rowing time; for it is a well-known fact that the best time cannot be got out of under-graduate crews. Other colleges, such as Williams or Columbia (pace their respective corporations), do not occupy the same place in the public imagination that Harvard and Yale do. Moreover, the regatta at Saratoga had grown to such gigantic proportions that it was unmanageable, and so many colleges were entered that the race could not be properly seen or enjoyed. Besides this, colleges were admitted, such as the Massachusetts Agricultural and Cornell, whose material for crews was of an altogether different sort from that of ordinary colleges. All these arguments would have come with better grace from Harvard and Yale at any other time than in 1876, when they had just suffered repeated defeats at the hands of colleges to which no objections of any kind applied. But the withdrawal, to have been justified by the result, should at least never have been followed by such performances as those of the last two New London races. It will never do for Harvard, at least, to confine itself to contests with a college which will not row, or to boast of victories like that. It was on this account a great pity that the proposed race with Oxford fell through. Harvard has unquestionably a very fine crew (all but two of the men were in last year’s boat), — perhaps the best college eight ever seen in American waters, — but to be interesting, or even creditable, there must be a contest; and the public interest is kept alive only by the existence of a real doubt as to which is to beat. If Yale cannot row, and will not learn how, the New London race might as well be given up; for very soon no one will go to see it. It would not only be far better, were the present condition of affairs likely to continue, but it would become absolutely essential, to let some other reputable college enter the race (say, for instance, Columbia, which has proved itself a dangerous competitor to both Harvard and Yale), in order to make the race a real one.

We take it for granted, however, that this sort of thing is not to continue. Yale probably contains as good material for a crew, taking year with year, as Harvard, and there is no reason why it should not in the future, as in the past, give Harvard a great deal of work to win. If it means to persist in its present slovenly and ridiculous style, it had far better withdraw altogether. We say this quite as much in the interest of Harvard as of Yale. What time can be made by Harvard no one knows, and no one will know until there is a real race. No worse thing could happen for rowing in any college than to beat as easily as Harvard has in the last two races. Successes of this kind take away every motive to improvement.

The thing most to be desired for American college rowing in the future seems to us to be that there should be some fixity and regularity about it. The remarkable process of evolution through which it has passed would show that in the eight-oar, four-mile, straight-away race, with coxswains, we have reached a finality. It is to the last degree improbable that we shall ever go back to six oars, or to the old system of steering, or to the old three-mile course with a turn. In fact, we have, after much vexation and trouble, practically adopted the English system of rowing, as we have their stroke; and in all human probability the system which has stood the test of experience so well in England will stand it equally well here. The main thing now is to stick to the same course. In this respect, the Thames offers probably greater advantages than any other place. The course is straight, the movable grand stand of itself constitutes a strong reason in favor of New London, and the chances appear to be in favor of smooth water. But the precise place selected is of much less importance than the selection of some permanent place. With perpetual changes, the result must mean little or nothing. With the same course, we shall in a very few years know what can be done by crack American universities, just as well as it is now known in England what can be done by crack English universities.