John Bonds'

Philosophical notes from American Sailor

 

When I was executive director of USYRU/US SAILING, I particularly enjoyed writing editorials for our membership magazine.  Some of them, despite their vintage quality, stand the test of time quite well.  We're archiving them here, for general reference, without attempting to bring them up to date.  I think they're interesting both for the time they reflect (1989-94) and to illustrate that things really stay much the same in this grand sport.  I hope you enjoy themÉagain.  J

 

Fundamental Differences

February 1989

 

                  This is a year in which sponsorship and advertising in our sport will be seen at more events than ever before.  The new Rulebook has an entire appendix devoted to the details of administering these relatively new developments in sailing.  You're going to see boats that look like Grand Prix race cars with stickers for Dupont instead of Valvoline, and your clubs are going to be offered substantial financial help in running events in exchange for concessions in advertising displays.  The professional sailing events of 1988 and the America's Cup have given us some glimpses of the future in this regard.

                  It occurs to me that we need to keep clearly in mind a sharp distinction between our Corinthian sport and that of the professionals.  There is a fundamental difference in objective that shapes everything Corinthian sailors do in sailing, and should guide us as we accept financial help from advertisers and sponsors.  Amateur sailing has as its central focus the participant.  The event is maximized for his or her benefit.  The racing rules are complicated because the participants want equity in treatment, and a due process mechanism for resolving disputes.  Races are run away from the shore for steadier conditions and starts to windward with square starting lines.  There are many classes to accommodate the individual preferences of participants and a variety of handicapping systems to accommodate different types of boats racing together.

                  Professional sailing is quite different.  It is focused on the sponsor, the advertiser, the media and, through them, the general public.  The participant is a distant concern in most cases.  It is this fundamental difference that drives departures from standard practice.  Simple rules are a necessity—with no appeal mechanism provided.  Single, unique classes are preferable for stronger event identity.  Breakaway speed is valued over tactical interaction.  Events are held close to shore to allow viewing by the public, or easy filming for TV.  The list goes on, but it's all drive by the central focus of professional events, which is well and proper for this element of sailing.

                  What we must all keep in mind, however, is that we need not adopt the compromises required for professional sailing into our amateur sport.  It is not necessary to shift our focus from the participant, and it should not be done for the sake of financial support.  The criterion for accepting sponsorship and advertising should be that it improves the event for the participant.  Lower entry fees, better social events and more exciting prizes are all proper ends of sponsorship and advertising.  Good sponsors are those who understand this primary criterion and accept it.  However, I expect that we will all be challenged by less understanding sponsors in the coming years, comparing the concessions which are available to them from the professional events.  We can resist the siren's song successfully if we keep in mind this fundamental difference which should remain intact.  As Corinthian sailors, we—not market share—are the focus in our sport.

 

 

Blue-water Sailing Reflections

July/August 1989

 

                  In this issue, American Sailor features offshore racing, with some interesting and thought-provoking articles.  Reading them made me reflect on the changes which have occurred in this aspect of the sport since I made my first offshore race in 1975 aboard a wonderful old yawl named Xanadu.  She was a CCA boat, built for blue-water sailing.  By the time I stepped aboard as navigator she had made a half dozen Transatlantic passages, racing and cruising under her intrepid owner, Bates McKee.  The 1975 Annapolis-Newport race featured light air beating for the first 125 miles of the race down Chesapeake Bay.  Obviously this was not the strong suit of the Bill Tripp Sr. centerboarder, and we rounded the light tower dead last.  But then Xanadu put her port shoulder down and began to reach.  My, how delightful that reaching was!  She had a mature, sophisticated sea-motion in the ocean that was predictable and regular.  With a 15-20kt southeasterly breeze we had a great sail up the coast to Newport, featuring full meals from a talented chef (I still remember the roast tenderloin of beer with bŽarnaise sauce!) and congenial shipmates.   We were not in line for trophies at the prize giving, but we all felt like winners in the larger game of going to sea in small boats, testing our mettle and that of our boat against the ocean.  Going to sea was the real object involved, prizes were secondary.  Crews consisted of friends, selected more for their personalities than their physical prowess.  Watches were arranged for the long haul, reflecting transoceanic experience rather than overnight sprints.  Crews offwatch lounged below, in their bunks or in the salon (which was clear of sails!).  Small wonder that I looked forward to my next offshore race, as did a lot of competitors.

                  We have come a long way from those days, as boats have become optimized for the shorter races to which most active businessmen are limited.  These boats require active crews, positioned as far out on their broad decks as possible, and below there is a bare minimum of accommodation.  Sails are strewn throughout the main cabin, usually wet.  Meals are freeze-dried or pre-packaged, handed to the "railbirds" in a bowl with a spoon.  Watches are arranged haphazardly, with the common assumption that all hands are needed all the time for racing.  Off-duty crewmen sleep in place on the rail, or at best below in their bunks fully clothed and ready to leap to actioni with a five know change in wind strength.  No wonder our crews are not anxious to compete in real offshore races!  Ocean racing has always had an element of masochism, but the current situation would astonish the Marquis de Sade.

                  The Annapolis-Newport race I sailed in that first year of my blue-water career drew 85 boats.  This year there were only 46, with nine of those from service academies.  Significantly, there were only three IOR boats with a rating spread of 45'.  Yet in the larger fleet were the direct descendents of old Xanadu, fully capable of stopping overnight in Newport for provisions and then continuing on to Ireland.  The IMS fleet totaled 29 boats, 11 of which I would happily sail transatlantic.  That's healthy for the real sport of blue-water sailing, as it keeps alive the wonder and the unfulfilled possibility of our boats.  There's something special about knowing in your soul that WHEN (not if) you have the time to make that great adventurous crossing, your yacht is ready to take you in safety and relative comfort.  She's just waiting for you.

                  I spoke about safety gear this year at the day-long skippers' conference for the Marion-Bermuda Race.  There was a lot of that "something special" abroad in that group—people who had cruised and raced their boats along the coast and were now ready to strike out across the Gulf Stream to Bermuda for the first time.  They were a bit apprehensive, respectful of the sea and the vastness of the ocean—but their eyes were sparkling with the anticipated adventure of it.  When they finish that race, there will be prizes given for the race, of course.  But I expect that all of those competitors will consider themselves winners.  It's a special treat to strike off across an ocean, and competition with one's friends adds even more savor to it.

                  As you gather by now, I like racing round the buoys.  But I love the large game of racing across the ocean—plotting weather patterns of continental proportions, planning the logistics of weeks, carefully choosing crew for compatibility as well as capability, and monitoring their emotional ups and downs to let them relax a bit in the middle passage and then surge for the final push to the finish.  I like lightly built, responsive racing boats which are at home in smooth water, but I respect a bluewater yachts that is built and equipped to take everything the sea will throw at her, racing until authentic storm conditions are presented and then having the capability of seeing her crew through those extreme conditions, too.  Above all in ocean racing, I treasure the bonding which occurs in crews who share such an adventure.  It is one of the only non-combat situations I know which produces this unique relationship among human beings which endures for the rest of our lives.  We have ventured together into the unknown, and working together have triumphed over nature.  It's primeval, and uniquely satisfying.  Looking at the Annapolis-Newport race, it's clear that a lot of yachts are still capable of real bluewater racing.  Why then is bluewater racing declining?  Because we can't or won't take the time off from our busy lives to pursue the real adventure out there.  The fault is not in our boats, but in ourselves.

 

 

Bedrock Characters

September 1989

 

JB Note:  This was written about a good friend, now running races in another dimension, but it is a delightful portrait of a dedicated volunteer in a little club.  There are people like this in every club, who really make the sport work at the important level, the local sailing organization.  George was always a bit embarrassed about this editorial, but I'm still proud of it, and of his enormous contribution to the sport.

 

                  In this column I'd like to pay tribute to an old friend, a fellow who has been the indispensable racing element in the Coasters' Harbor Navy Yacht Club here in Newport since its inception and who has endeared himself (in his own unique, usually gruff fashion) to a whole generation of Newport sailors and their racing guests.  CDR George Winslow, USN (ret.) was a hotshot fighter pilot in the Mariannas Turkey Shoot of 1944, right out of flight school into combat.  That experience gave him a hell-for-leather style that endures.  He sees the right thing to do, and does it without agonizing about it.  And like the fighter pilot he was, he prefers to run his race committee boat alone.

                  George and I go back a long way here, to 1966 or so, when I became the Secretary of the new Newport Navy Yacht Club.  George was still on active duty teaching at the Naval War College.  I was a lieutenant.  He and I started running races for the new Rhodes 19s which had been provided for sail training and recreation, towing them back in long line astern as often as not—since most of our sailors were less than greatly experienced.  I went away in 1968 and when I returned in 1972, George was "Mr. Race Committee," operating from a 17' Boston Whaler which he had outfitted for singlehanded RC operation.  That year we began Wednesday evening races for cruiser-racers in conjunction with Ida Lewis and Newport yacht clubs; and by 1974 the fleet had grown to some 35 boats in two classes, joining one-design fleets of Rhodes 19s, Cape Cod Mercuries and Shields.  George had two complaints about starting cruisers—the high stern wakes they left close aboard which nearly threw him out of his boat, and the way they spread out over several miles by the time the race was over.  We solved the first problem with a gentleman's rule (don't start too close to George!) and agreed to take our own finish times to solve the second.  George ran races on Wednesday nights for the Navy club, and on Saturday we sailed together in a Shields in a series sponsored by Ida Lewis.  In 1975, we qualified for the Nationals, and sailing with the same crew we had used throughout the year, including my 12 year-old son, we finished fifth in a fleet of some 28 boats.  It was the high point of both our one-design careers, and an experience we still cherish.  When the Bonds family sailed our old Coronado 25 south to Norfolk in 1976 after the Tall Ships visit, George provisioned us with a pot of baked beans and a moist eye. 

                  When we returned here in 1987, George was still running races but his venue was larger.  In the intervening years, George had been recruited for the America's Cup Challenger series race committees, which expanded his horizons a bit.  Now he ran the Wednesday Navy series (with civilian participation in the Shields and Freedom Independence classes) AND the Saturday Shields series.  In additional, he had become the preferred committee for the Stars when they came to town.  When the Volvo regatta got cooking, George was given the circle with Shields, Etchells, J/22, Ensigns and 110s.  For this duty, he recruited one assistant for his whaler, and a second whaler to act as mark boat.  In his usual fashion, he always got his allotted quota of races completed—with square lines and challenging, accurate courses.

                  George is like so many of the people who make our sport special.  He's the kind of fellow who leaves things better than he finds them and puts substance back into the system.  When he's not running races these days, he's driving the Newport Library's Bookmobile, taking reading materials to the children of Newport.  He plays alto horn in the Newport Concert Band (and recruited me to join them to my great pleasure).  He's a permanent member of CHNYC's Board of Directors, bringing the wisdom of more than 20 years of active involvement in the sport.  And he teaches a rules course for new sailors each year, to get them into the sport.  George loves sailing, of course.  But more than anything else, he loves the people who sail.

                  So here's to you, George!  And to all the other indispensable people out there who make racing sailboats possible; and such fun.  It just wouldn't work without your commitment to the sport, and we are all in your debt for giving us some of the best moments of our lives.

 

Junior Sailing

October 1989

 

                  This month we're featuring Junior Sailing.  It is significant that our presentation was preceded by several other features on junior sailing in the yachting press this summer.  This general awareness of junior sailing is a direct result of USYRU's long term concern with this critical aspect of our sport.  All of us are getting older, and some of us are finding that we no longer enjoy racing as a participant.  Or we find that we spend more time on committee boats than on racing boats, or that we find more pleasure in the achievements of our grandchildren than our own racing success.   Whatever the cause, none of us have any doubt that we must recruit, train and guide our replacements in the sport.

                  Over the past eight years, USYRU has made a major investment in the best sailing educational program in the world.  It grew out of a single meeting in 1981, the first National Junior Sailing Symposium organized by Timmy Larr and Dave Perry.  This first NJSS was informal and unstructured.  Some fifteen of us met in a bare conference room at the St. Louis Airport Marriott to share perspectives, identify common problems and suggest solutions to them.  Emerging from this meeting was a consensus that was not obvious to any of us until we shared experiences—USYRU needed a common, professional, educational system for its constituent organizations.   Training was the necessary centralizing element of the junior sailing system in the United States.  The Red Cross program was outdated, the Canadian system was overly structured and centralized, the European systems too rigidly based on a single climate.  USYRU needed a program with a sturdy framework and sufficient flexibility to adapt to the cold waters and short seasons of upper Michigan and Maine, while being at home in the friendly waters of Southern California and Florida.

                  During eight years of hard work, and thousands of dollars of investment, USYRU's volunteers produced such a program.  It is now a mature program training thousands of new sailors each year.  The text Start Sailing Right! was produced this spring in cooperation with the American Red Cross.  As a supporting tool, McNamara Video produced the award-winning video series based on the same material, featuring number keys in a corner for quick cuing by the instructor.  Coming behind this package is a companion book on boardsailing, now in the final editing process.  "Learn to Race" courses are already underway, to introduce successful beginners to racing—our primary interest.  Each of these systems provides specific certification in dinghies, keelboats or sailboards.  Training has matured now into a full division at USYRU, and it is paying its way with book and course revenues.

                  Junior Sailing remains at the core of USYRU's activities, and this year we were delighted to have Rolex Watch USA come aboard as the sponsor for a new program which combines the competitive structures of the traditional Junior Championships (Sears, Bemis, Smyth and Mass. Bay trophies) and the more recent Youth and Leiter Championships.  What results is the USYRU/Rolex Junion Sailing Team, youngsters who have risen to the top of their competitive groups and who constitute our highest hopes for international honors in sailing.  Rolex is sponsoring them specifically to support our best young sailors, to identify them early and to recognize their achievemtns.  This year, as you will see in the articles, Rolex support made possible educational clinics at the championship regattas.  Every participant came away from these events a better sailor because of this sponsorship, and the sport was strengthened measurably.

                  The real foundation of junior sailing remains firmly grounded in the individual clubs and associations that provide programs.  From the tailored cooperative system of Marblehead's Pleon YC which has no adult members at all, to the integrated programs of San Diego and St. Petersburg YCs; hundreds of volunteers and certified USYRU instructors keep this system going year after year.  USYRU continues to work with insurance carriers to obtain low-cost school insurance for programs which use certified instructors.  The National Junior Sailing Symposiums continue to be held each year, bringing together new generations of parents concerned about their childrens' sailing education, new generations of instructors, and Commodores who weren't even Fleet Captains when all this began.  This is the source of our champions of tomorrow, and equally the source of our new race officers, judges, instructors, club members and commodores.  These youngsters are the future of our sport, of our clubs and of USYRU itself.

                  But your involvement with junior sailing need not be totally altruistic.  I'll guarantee that if you become involved with a junior program you'll be rewarded beyond your wildest expectations.  The intrepid joy of a young sailor returning from his/her first sortie in a pram is unparalleled.   There is a grin of pure joy there, as the independent person inside that little body has been able to express that sovereignty more completely than ever before in his life.  Like the poet, he has become the master of his fate, the captain of his soul.  It's a lot like turning loose a bird which has been caged.  Neither of you will ever be quite the same again.

 

 

Sailing Science

November 1989

 

                  As I read through the text for "Sailing Science" which you'll find in this issue, I was struck by the paradox which our sport presents.  It's an ancient mode of transportation which possesses allure out of proportion to its yield in concrete results.  Our powerboat friends are continuously amazed that we get so excited about going seven or eight knots, and absolutely ecstatic about surfing at 15-20 knots.  They achieve these speeds at will.  For us, wresting these speeds from nature itself is the attraction.  The fact that it isn't easy or routine to get the maximum potential out of our sailing craft means that we have to work hard at it.  That's why it's special.  The result is largely due to our efforts, our skill and our concentration.  It is a human result, not a mechanical one, achieved by consonance with nature and accommodation to its vagaries rather than simply overpowering it.  Yet in our quest for achievement, most of us find nothing incongruous in using the very latest in "space age" technology and materials for our boats and equipment.  Navigating a sailboat with a satellite-based Global Positioning System seems a completely natural thing to do.  Having chosen the means of propulsion, everything else is fair game for employing technology.  Or is it?

                  Many of us sail to escape the rush and intensity of our daily lives.  Slipping out into a quiet sunset, hearing on the gurgle of the quarterwave and the shisper of the wind are precious restoratives to anyone's soul.  I think that's the reason some former racers are cruising rather than racing these days—their lives have become crowded with enough intensity that they do not choose to fill their weekends with the adrenalin-filled excitement of a starting line, five boats overlapped coming into a bottom mark, and perhaps an antagonistic experience in a protest room to follow.  But there may be another element involved too.  Have we allowed technology to dominate our sport to the point that we're driving out sailors whose lives can allow only a peripheral investment of time and money?  Do many racers feel that they can't be competitive unless they have the very latest in technology—carbon fiber in their hulls, Kevlar in their sails, computers at their nav stations?

                  There are some dangers here that we should consider.  In the past, sailing offered competition at all sorts of levels of involvement.  From the casual local races, sailing club or family daysailors with tacit rules about sail replacements to preserve competition, we have come to fleets in which competition requires a complete suit of sails (or more) each season.  The E-22 fleet prides itself on limiting sail purchases to one complete set of sails per year.  Serious J/24 campaigns sometimes involve a complete set of sails for every major regatta.  We discovered during the Sail Button discussions[1] that many centerboard sailors bought more sails per year than a fairly serious offshore boat owner.  This is surely healthy for the sailmakers, but is it good for the sport for competitors to feel that they must invest perhaps 50% of their boat's worth in sails each year to be competitive?  Do we want to have "normal" folks racing?

                  The controversy over the newest and fastest has raged in the offshore world for some time.  Lighter is faster, and lighter means exotic construction with designs that maximize the use of crew weight to provide righting moment.  Allowed by the IOR rule, interiors withered away, rigs became very fragile and hulls were built so lightly that the term "throw-away yacht" became commonplace.  Emergent technology made lighter, faster, boats to be sure.  But their crews now don't want to race in the ocean and certainly not overnight.  Is this good for the sport?  Most boat owners need boat that can be used for purposes other than racing:  the few that don't still participate in IOR.  IMS is facing these problems now as IOR fleets fade away and competitive owners seek a new fleet in which they can sail.  Lighter is faster in IMS, too, and exotics can provide the same or greater strength in lighter weights.  No handicap system corrects for the advantage clear air in front of the fleet provides.  The yield is great in a design that allows for a quick tack away from the fleet into clear air and back again with minimal loss of speed, or off the wind is able to surf at lower wind speeds.  The IMS committee is seeking to deal with this problem in a way that IOR really never did.  I hope they're successful for the good of the sport.

                  There are some races which deliberately limit the application of technology.  The Marion-Bermuda Race is one of those.  Its competitors are quite deliberately family-sailed, dual-purpose cruiser/racers.  No spinnakers can be used.  No Kevlar sails are allowed.  No electronic navigational aids are allowed until within 50nm of Bermuda to provide safety in approaching the shoals.  No professional crew area allowed.  No single-purpose designed racers are allowed.  Lots of "no's."  But lots of competitors each time the race is run.  The entry lists are filled months ahead of the event.  Nearly every other offshore race I know of has suffered reductions in entries, including the CCA Bermuda Race.[2]  Is there a lesson here for the sport?

                  Clearly there are still target audiences for serious races and race weeks.  Committee competitors come from significant distances to do battle and party with sailors likes themselves.  Obviously, high-tech racing is important and popular still.  But we can't allow it to display all other kinds of racing, which act as feeders for the highest levels of the sport.  There is a need for both levels.  How do we ensure that outcome?  Our presentation here of "Sailing Science" should provide some food for thought, as what's discussed here will be on the race course in a year or two, if not next spring.

 

 

Winning isn't everything

January 1999

 

                  A couple of months ago, I was contacted by  Soundings to participate in a dialogue in print.  Dennis Conner had been asked to write on "Winning is Everything."  I was to take on the opposite perspective.  Needless to say, I jumped at the change.  In the end, Dennis didn't participate in the exercise and Soundings  used my material but titled it something about Sponsorship, which is only one of the points.  Because I feels strongly about this subject and suspect that most of you share that intensity of conviction, we're running my side again here as a statement of philosophy about the sport.  As always, your comments and counterpoint are most welcome.

                 

                  Like most competitors, I appreciate Vince Lombardi's precept that winning isn't the most important thingÉit's the only thing!  In the business of professional football, his observation is undeniable.  It is probably applicable in professional sailing, a category in which I would include America's Cup competition these days.  But I don't think that winning is the only worthwhile objective in amateur sport.

                  Amateur sport is about something else.  It is a microcosm of life itself, and through sport we learn how to live better in our society.  We all know this intuitively.  It's the reason we encourage our youngsters to participate in T-Ball Leagues, in Pop Warner football, in junior sailing programs.  Learning to work as a team member is an important socialization technique.  Beyond this, sport provides an environment in which leadership tools can be developed, where extraordinary talents can emerge and flourish.  Managed correctly, everyone wins in amateur sport regardless of the outcome of the particular event.  In modern parlance, amateur sport is a win/win proposition.

                  To accomplish this goal, all of us must keep in mind the real purpose of sport—to provide health activity for the participants.  When other objectives begin to displace this purpose either through the seductiveness of sponsorship or advertising, or through a transformation by which the outcome of the event is more important than the activity itself, amateur sport begins to lose its meaning and justification for being.  Again, we all know this intuitively—and condemn college coaches who condone illegal activity to ensure winning teams.  Playing by the rules, observing the norms of fair play, being a good sport are still expected by most of us.  Winning is important, to be sure.  But it isn't everything.  Losing is preferable to cheating, to beating the rules.  Winning by an unfair advantage is not preferable to losing in amateur sport.

                  This is one of the paramount differences between amateur and professional sport.  Amateur sport must remain centered on the participant, his well-being and his welfare.  Purity of competition is a central element in the equation.  Within the boundaries of the rules established for the competition, may the best participant win.  Professional sport has become something entirely different.  Winning IS everything, as coaches discover every year in the NFL, NBA and NHL.  Winning is profit, and professional sport is a business—not really a sport at all.  Maximizing the event for the spectator and for the media builds profits.  If the welfare of the player must be compromised, that is a necessary price which will be paid—if necessary in increased salaries for the players.

                  All this is terribly important in our sport as we explore ways to use commercial sponsorship of our amateur events to help offset their costs of operation and enhance them for our participants.  We must resist erosion of the central purpose for amateur sport, and keep it focused on the participant from whom it derives its reason for being.

                  What's more important than winning?  Participating in a common activity with friends, doing your deal-level best with the equipment and talent you have, congratulating a newcomer to the fleet who has moved out of DFL and finished ahead of you, sharing your secrets with other, cheering for the winner who worked harder at the game than you did.  And in sailing, there is much more besides:  The primeval communication between you and the porpoise who surfaces beside you and keeps pace alongside while you race; the beauty of a sunrise after a night of racing under the stars; the exaltation of a perfect spinnaker set or takedown; the pride of watching a son or daughter take the helm in light air and steering better than you.  Oh yeah, there's a lot more to racing sailboats than winningÉ

 

 

Offshore Sailing and Safety

February 1990

 

                  Since coming to Newport in 1987 I've been deeply involved in the translation of the Safety at Sea Seminars from a purely Navy format to one now presented across the country every year.  This has come about through the effort of hundreds of dedicated sailors and through the active support of Cruising World magazine and the Boat/US Safety Foundation.

                  Preparation, planning, equipment and competence in both boat and crew are essential elements in survival at sea.  They are also key factors in the enjoyment of seafaring.  That's why the Safety Seminars are so popular.  People learn what they need to know to enjoy the sea more.  Women learn how to retrieve the big lug they've been sailing with for years, wondering what in the world they would do if he should go overboard.   We show them how.

                  We talk frankly about the problems involved in water survival, and suggest ways of hedging your bets.   We display good equipment and provide a convenient opportunity to heft it, try it on, compare it with other equipment.  Experts from the Coast Guard discuss how they conduct emergency evacuations from boats at sea.

                  Medical professionals who are experienced sailors present their views on the treatment of the most common traumas suffered by sailors, and describe how many of them can be prevented.  We inflate liferafts on the stage, and let the audience peek inside or even crawl in to see what it's like.  Emergency kits are opened an inventoried, and at some locations we conduct demonstrations on the water, where you will see actual man overboard maneuvers, comparative shots of flares and emergency smoke signals and helicopter evacuations.  It's a powerful and effective show.

                  This year there will be more of these seminars than ever before, in nearly every part of the country.  Through its Safety at Sea Committee, USYRU has been at the center of this movement, and continues to be so, maintaining curriculum oversight, quality control responsibility and providing insurance coverage for the program sponsors.  This year, we have asked the seminar organizers to grant a $5 discount to USYRU members.  We will issue Certificates of Attendance to those who come to sanctioned seminars, which can be used in many cases to obtain reduced rates on boat insurance.  Further, we are striking a Rescue Medal to be awarded to any amateur U.S. citizen who saves a life using his sailboat.  These cases will be reported in American Sailor as they are confirmed so that lessons learned can be shared widely.

                  We're serious about safety here because like our other activities it helps people enjoy sailing more.  That's really what USYRU is all about, and why so many people give their time and treasure to help support the organization.  I urge you to consider attending a safety seminar in your area—or if there isn't one scheduled, to call us and talk about the organization of one.  It is a program that saves lives each year.  But beyond that, it makes sailing more fun for everyone who attends.

 

 


[1] This refers to a money-raising scheme discussed in this period to finance USYRU's operations, which were hard-pressed to stay in the black.  The plan involved a sail button on every racing sail which would be installed by the sailmaker, who would remit a fee to US SAILING for the buttons.  It did not gain approval.

[2] JB note:  CCA subsequently expanded their fleet to include cruiser/racers, double-handed boats and non-spinnaker divisions, which reversed the downward trend.