Two of the three times we exchanged houses with John and Brenda Wright, we walked down to the Thames to see the Henley Royal Regatta. We couldn’t resist one of the events of England’s social season, being so close by.
The second time, showers dampened the show. There were still men with striped blazers, spats, and straw hats and women with frilly frocks and showy hats, redolent with the charm of a period piece.
A few of the ladies, carrying their strappy sandals, had to don Wellies to slog through the mud to the protection of event tents.
Some women protected their dresses with raincoats. They all took the bother of the weather in stride as they paraded along the eastern edge of the river, occasionally taking note of the sculls going by.
On our first visit, though, the sun was hot, the breeze intermittent, shade trees too few along the path. Nevertheless, we walked upriver to the start line, there to witness a display of raw human power, the physical kind.
In the two lanes sat sculls, each with eight oarsmen, who were tense, poised for the first stroke and the coxswain’s commands to follow. When the starter’s gun fired, the sixteen oarsmen created a sight, sound and sense that I can call to mind instantly, more than twenty years later. In that moment, they showed the power that can come from working together.
People of a Certain Age, don’t you have electric memories like this?
That memory came alive again when I read the book my brother gave me for Christmas, The Boys in the Boat, by Daniel James Brown. Like Joe said he felt, I didn’t want the book to end.
Brown tells the story of the 1936 crew from the University of Washington that won the gold medal for eights at the Olympic Games in Nazi Germany. Brown uses the life of one of the crew, Joe Rantz, to spin his story, the outcome of which, of course, we already know. Still, Brown charms us into the tale.
Brown begins each of his chapters with words from George Yeoman Pocock. Pocock, who learned his craft downriver from Henley at Windsor, built the best boats. He was also the guru for crews, the one whose wisdom and insights motivated many oarsmen and women over the years.
I felt a connection to Pocock because Dad knew his son, Stan, also an oarsman and coach, when we lived in Seattle. I think I remember visiting the UW boathouse. So Brown’s book brought back more memories, real or invented, for me.
As compelling as is the story, the Pocock quotes have had significant staying power, too. Like others who have succeeded in creating life messages out of aspects of their respective fields, George Yeoman Pocock used rowing to teach values.
“It is hard to make the boat go as fast as you want to. The enemy, of course, is the resistance of the water, as you have to displace the amount of water equal to the weight of the men and equipment, but that very water is what supports you and that very enemy is your friend. So in life: the very problems you must overcome also support you and make you stronger in overcoming them.”
“Harmony, balance, and rhythm. They’re the three things that stay with you your whole life. Without them, civilization is out of whack. And that’s why an oarsman, when he goes out in life, he can fight it, he can handle life. That’s what he gets from rowing.”
“One of the first admonitions of a good rowing coach, after the fundamentals are over, is “pull your own weight,” and the young oarsman does just that when he finds out that the boat goes better when he does. There certainly is a social implication here.”
“It’s a great art, is rowing. It’s the finest art there is. It’s a symphony of motion. And when you’re rowing well, why it’s nearly perfection. And when you near perfection, you’re touching the Divine. It touches the you of you. Which is your soul.”
“Where is the spiritual value of rowing…? The losing of self entirely to the cooperative effort of the crew as a whole.”
I have no idea what has become of the sixteen oarsmen we watched trying to pull their own weight, displace enough water to go as fast as they could. I’d like to think that they might have a gut-level understanding of what Pocock said.
I’d like to think that lessons like those drawn from George Yeoman Pocock are being learned by enough people these days to keep our boat moving forward as fast as it can, politics and circumstances notwithstanding, powered by people pulling their own weight giving themselves over to the cooperative benefit of the crew as a whole.
People of a Certain, Age, wouldn’t we all welcome the sight of a symphony of motion, nearing perfection, touching the Divine?
Daniel E. White
March 2, 2020