Lawrence H. Rogers II
This is the story of a family adventure, of sailing from St. Petersburg, Florida, to Palm Beach, to New York, then to Newport, to sail in the 1984 Bermuda Race in our 48-foot New York Yacht Club Forty-Eight Swan HALCYON.
The author and family were in St. Pete because he owned the St. Pete Grand Prix auto race, and the boat yard there was able to upgrade our Swan 48 for a trans-Atlantic passage, as well as change her color and make important changes in her safety features.
They sailed to the Florida Keys, with several amusing adventures, then to Palm Beach to visit friends, then off to the north. Despite having lived in Orlando for five years, and knowing that that latitude of Florida and its close neighbor, Cape Canaveral, had the worst affliction of thunderstorms in the world in late afternoons, the author made the mistake of leaving Palm Beach at noon. By four o’clock the yacht was struck by lightning, and all its navigation gear was blown out.
One thing after another, the family got all the gear shipped off to its home offcies (mostly in California) with the demand that it all be waiting for us in Newport for the start of the Bermuda Race in about three weeks. It all did.
They made the race, with almost all family, a crew of ten, and led for five days of horrible, stormy weather until the author made another major goof. So they didn’t win, but came in twelfth out of some 160-odd competitors.
After two weeks of revival, they took off, five in crew, for the Azores. The trip was made in 2 weeks (average speed 7½ knots) sent one crewman home, and picked up Mrs. Rogers on her birthday.
Then, off to Madeira, the south coast of Portugal, fabulous beach adventures, Spain, and the Balearics. First glimpse of France, after a hellaceous storm, was the Ile d Porquerolles. Then, east on the Cote d’Azur until we reached Beaulieu-sur-Mer — halfway between Nice and Monaco — which would become our home port for the next fifteen years.
Lawrence H. Rogers, II earned a bachelor’s degree in history from Princeton University and served as a captain in Patton’s army in World War II before building his first television station in West Virginia, where he worked from 1946 to 1959. Mr. Rogers then became chief operating officer and president of Taft Broadcasting Company of Cincinnati, Ohio, in which capacity he served until 1976. He also was chairman of the board of the Cincinnati branch of the Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland and president and CEO of Omega Communications, Inc., of Orlando, Florida. Earlier, he had designed and constructed the first privately owned long-distance microwave relay transmission system in the television industry and personally brought an end to the FCC ban on editorializing by radio and television licensees.
With a notable lack of fanfare, HALCYON departed the fuel dock of Delray Beach Yacht Club on May 23rd at 1600. The winter folks having left in droves, the Club was deserted except for a couple of paid hands and Don the Dockmaster. Having made John and Chris put the diesel fuel back in the tanks after they had drained it for the Bermuda Race MHS handicap measurement, Don lost out on a fat tip for his meager winter's efforts; instead I left him a fifth each of the rum and vodka, since nobody on board wanted it anyway.
The complement was the bride and groom, Campbell and John Jolly, a friend from the wedding, Tom Walters, a northwoods ourdoorsman making his first sea voyage, and Christian Rogers, a veteran of the fast blow south in the fall. The Mater, of course, was too smart to waste time on the boring three hour trip up the Inland Waterway to Palm Beach, so she took her car up the line to the Ilylinsky's at Brazilian Dock. Anyhow, by past performance she could lay even money that we'd be aground in the waterway at some point and struggle in about midnight instead of the predicted 1830.
Well, mirabile dictu, we made the passage without running aground, although the bridge operators had become noticeable dilatory since the winter stinkpotters have left and we had to wait on half of the eight bridges en route. We pulled into Peruvian Dock smartly enough at 1830, where we were greeted by Mater, Dan Rugg, and the Prince himself, in the slip next door to the new ANGELIQUE, a 65-foot Burger which resembles a small ocean liner. No more seasick pills for little Angelica; she can have her whole bridge and canasta club on the fantail at once. It's as big as our deck overlooking the lake at Orchard Farm!
We docked expertly, not a soul with the decency to admire our glorious hunter green topsides, agleam with a simonize finish that has yet to exhibit its first hairline scratch after the complete refinishing in St. Pete over the winter, and the 500 mile jaunt around Key West. With its gold cove stripe, and white-gold-white sandwich boot top over her jet black bottom, HALCYON is as sexy-looking a sea-going racer-cruiser as you'll ever see.
Once ashore, the Prince greeted one and all with his usual ebullience, embarrassing the bride by booming out: "Campbell! The very first time I have seen you not a virgin!" The next hour was consumed in a detailed inspection of ANGELIQUE, about as far from sailboating as it's possible to get. Lovely detail, spacious quarters, only one guest stateroom, Belleaire pink and white latticework in the master suite, and a statistic to end all statistics: there are four ice-makers on board that consume thirty-six gallons of water a day!
We tended to some business by discussing Jay Thompson's captain of the old ANGELIQUE, which he has renamed LAND'S END and gutted completely at Spencer's Boat Yard. Pauly's Captain Charlie is livid, because he thinks the total overhaul implies that he had not done a proper maintenance job. Fact is, she was probably the best cared-for boat I have ever seen. Our business consisted of deciding Jay needs some new Hood sails and gear and I should look in on him in the morning.
We ate on board in the usual splendor. With Mater and Campbell in residence, whoever needs a restaurant? After dinner Danny and Chris bedded down in ANGELIQUE'S guest cabin twin beds, and Charlie supplied us with sheets to make up the queen-size playground in the master's quarters.
We were up and at it early the 24th with plenty to do before the final departure. Pauly arrived to wish us Godspeed and we had a few premature teary farewells, because we weren't ready to leave yet. In fact I sped on up to Spencer's to buy a couple of last minute gadgets, and also to call on Jay's Captain. His name is John Phillips, and he's a rather feisty guy who gave me a reasonably hard time until I told him I was a neighbor of Jay's from Cincinnati. He may not have believed it, but it certainly altered his demeanor. He allowed as how he'd listen to a pitch from us if Dan really showed up (which I could tell he doubted), but that he had had a bad experience with one of our sea furls and our sails were twice as expensive as the competition. As for his project: Pauly was correct. He has gutted the MATUTA (her original name), replacing every window and porthole, for what reason I cannon tell. All the interior decks have been removed along with their wall-to-wall carpeting and replaced with teak and holly decking soles. That's perhaps a matter of taste, and will doubtless be very handsome – and very expensive. Also in the master suite aft, he has removed the dressing table complex and opened up the after hatch and companionway that used to be there. I think that's a definite improvement, because it enables the master suite occupants a way to get in and out without using the cockpit or the main saloon. I tried to sell Phillips a Stoway mast, but he is going to reinstall those priceless laminated spruce spars. For a showboat, he could hardly do better.
These preliminaries accomplished, and the crew meantime having finished the stowing of supplies, we were about ready for sea. Dan Rugg's invaluable suggestion that we not try to lash anything on deck was fully justified, as we shall see later. That involved our deflating and folding up the Zodiac dinghy in a package small enough to cram in the lazarette. Having spent the afternoon previous in the lazarette bolting pad-eyes to the deck to secure a stern-to-pulpit hook-on safety lifeline cable, I discovered that it is much bigger than we thought it was, and that we ought to be able to make much more sensible use of it than before. In fact, there is no reason not to plan on at least two of those six-and-a-half gallon jerry cans of extra diesel fuel stowed in the side areas of the lazarette under the cockpit coamings. We would also find out later in this saga why that makes sense!
Mater, Dan and Captain Charlie waving, we cast off at 1130 and headed for the Royal Palm Boulevard Bridge. As we cleared the last bridge around noon, I waited for a quiet moment, then shouted "Man Overboard!"
Chris and Tom being closest, reacted instantly to free the U-ring, and strobe-light and O-flag staff, and pitched them overboard exactly nine seconds after the alarm. Meantime, I pointed out to Cam that our course had been 005º, so I spun the wheel hard to port, gunned the engine and headed back to a course of 180º, the extra 5º for the purpose of overcoming the width of the turn circle. Chris had a boat hook in the U-ring lanyard exactly 59 seconds after the alarm call. Not half bad; but under ideal hot sunny flat water conditions. We shall have to have a full-scale man overboard drill at Seawanhaka when we gather the full crew for the Astor Cup Race. We need one under full sail to make it more difficult, as well as under sea conditions. The Cruising Club Bermuda Race rules require the filing of an affidavit that is signed by 80% of the ocean racing crew that emergency procedures drills have been conducted shortly prior to the actual race.
