“Late Fall Practice”

“Late Fall Practice” by oarsman Jim Anderegg. This print hangs in the exhibit “Let Her Run” in the G. W. Blunt White Building at Mystic Seaport, Mystic, Connecticut, the same building that holds the NRF’s National Rowing Hall of Fame. This particular print has been signed by the 1984 rowing team of Brown University.       

Rowing historian Thomas E. Weil writes:

I recently received a query from Ed Winchester regarding a lovely item, and thought that a bit of background might be of interest to the readers of ‘Hear the Boat Sing’.    

For U.S. rowers from the 1950s through the 1980s, perhaps the most ubiquitous contemporary image of their sport was a print titled “Late Fall Practice” by James (Jim) M. Anderegg, Princeton ‘51. Sold by the artist himself, or through local print shops, such as Merwin’s in New Haven, CT, the scene decorated countless dormitory, library, study and living room walls, serving as a striking visual madeleine to the recollections of thousands of rowers. Depending on when and where it was sold, the purchaser could (and many did) request that the oar blades – which were left uncolored in the original prints – be painted with the colors of their own school, college or club. As a result, one may find a copy described as showing a Yale, Harvard or Princeton, etc., crew, when, in fact, the original image (though based on one crew, as described below), could be adapted by anyone to represent the affiliation of their choice.

Its nearly universal attraction is easily understandable. Highlighted by an unseen light source as darkness gathers, an eight strides for home along a river or lake bounded by low hills or high treetops in deep shadow, with the remnants of sunlight producing a dark blue sky, all repeated in reverse as reflected in the water below. Few rowers will not have experienced a moment like that depicted in “Late Fall Practice”. The site could be almost anywhere in rowing, so it is not surprising that, because of its popularity combined with its anonymity, questions have often arisen as to the origins of the piece. Three documents provide some answers.

The first appears in Rowing At Princeton, the Princeton University rowing history published in 2002, for which “Late Fall Practice” was used as the cover illustration. Described as Anderegg’s “promotion for the print which he sold in the 1950s” and dated “Fall 1950”, the blurb reads:

Dear Sir:
During late fall practice, 1948, the idea for this picture came to me and after several attempts I got the composition and expression I wanted. The feeling of the shell’s movement and its run, the beauty of the shell and its reflection under launch lights, the darkness, depth, and clarity all were there. When I took the finished sketch down to the boathouse to show it to the gang I received many requests for copies. I tried to comply with a small edition of lithographs, and have since had to have another published. They are good lithographic reproductions, 16 x 20 inches, in full color on heavy paper. I tell you this because I want you to know that this print of a crew is by a crewman and done especially for crewmen.

Sincerely
/s/ Jim Anderegg
Colonial Club
40 Prospect Street
Princeton, N.J.

$5.00 Postpaid, check or money order. Will be mailed immediately.

Anderegg expanded on this brief description in a letter, dated May 22, 1984, he wrote to J. David Farmer, director of the University of California – Santa Barbara Art Gallery. Farmer, a former lightweight oarsman from Columbia, organized, in connection with the 1984 Los Angeles Summer Olympic Games, an exhibition titled “Rowing / Olympics.”  This was the first show of rowing art and memorabilia to be mounted in the United States, and a copy of “Late Fall Practice” was included in the exhibition.

Dear David Farmer –   
Donald Beer [note: Beer was a member of Yale’s 1956 gold medal Olympic eight who lived in Princeton] called the other day wanting to know some details about this print and saying he was going to send you his copy [for the exhibition]. I volunteered to send you one of your own for your upcoming show and I would like to ask in return if you could send me a copy of the catalog for the show ... [note: all ellipses are as in the original letter]

This print incidentally is a rarity today because I put the colors on it myself. I really apologise for the unsteadiness ... witness this writing ... but the gal who ordinarily paints them was unavailable. I’ve had MS for 12 years and for the last two or three I’ve had balance problems and the shakes. Anyway ... back to the print ...

I did it in late October 1948. Two heavy crews on Lake Carnegie ... Princeton ... had raced from the finish line back up the lake and my boat had gotten over the course first. It was really early evening ... dark but still some blue sky ... and when the second boat came up the launch and the flood lights were on one side and the other boat came up just as in the picture, on the other side. The original ink and water color hang in Princeton’s Nassau Hall ... badly damaged by sunlight. This print is the second edition off these plates. The color separation was made in 1953 and lost when these were done in 1974. Edition was about 4000 but only 2500 were usable ... the blue plate was full of hickeys. It has been a lot of fun ... its the only thing I ever did ... I’m a graduate architect. I run libraries for large architects, now ... lots of them.

Yours sincerely, Jim Anderegg

Anderegg’s obituary in the Princeton Alumni Weekly (23 January 1991) provides some further insight into the story of “Late Fall Practice”. The apparent discrepancy in the number of prints described in Anderegg’s letter and this obituary is puzzling, but may be due to what I understand to have been a divorce settlement which gave Anderegg’s ex-wife certain rights with respect to the ongoing production and sale of his prints.

James Murray Anderegg '51. Jim died Oct. 91, 1990. For 27 years he had lived with and fought multiple sclerosis. His painting, “Late Fall Practice,” which he produced as a sophomore, made him famous throughout the country to generations of rowers. Indeed, over the last 47 years more than 7,000 copies were sold, with the buyer’s college colors on the oar blades [note: I suspect that this number includes the many copies that were sold without the blades having been colored]. Jim was born in Chestnut Hill, Penn., and came to Princeton from the Hun school. He had spent almost three years in WWII as a boatswain’s mate on I.STs in the Southwest Pacific. At Princeton, Jim majored in architecture, was a member of Colonial Club, a varsity oarsman, and art editor of the Nassau Herald. Architecture, art, and boats were Jim’s life and livelihood. After ten years as a salesman of architectural products, he formed Anderegg, Inc., in Detroit. His Architects’ Library Service provided technical information to large architectural / engineering firms His woodcuts and prints are prized by collectors. Jim is survived by two sons and a stepdaughter. The Class and his many admirers will miss this courageous and engaging man.

A close-up of the print mentioned on top of this entry.

That “Late Fall Practice” is not frequently seen on the market, in spite of its apparently large print runs, is undoubtedly a lasting tribute to Anderegg’s skill in capturing a particularly evocative moment in a beautiful sport, and the pull that the piece has on those who have been able to acquire a copy. Any owner of this image may not only be privileged to enjoy the memories that it inspires, but may also take pride in possessing one of the most attractive and widely appreciated rowing prints of the era.

1014: Brian Boru Won, Vikings Two

Naval Reinforcements from the exhibition at Trinity College, Dublin, created by Cartoon Saloon.

Greg Denieffe writes:

Ireland is now in the decade of centenaries, which is a programme of commemorations relating to the significant events in Irish history that took place between 1912 and 1922. Arguably, a more significant commemoration took place last weekend; that of the Battle of Clontarf which took place 1,000 years ago today, on 23 April 1014.

The Battle of Clontarf was a battle between the forces of Brian Boru, High King of Ireland, and an alliance of the forces of Sigtrygg Silkbeard, king of Viking Dublin; Máel Mórda mac Murchada, the king of Leinster; and a Viking contingent led by Sigurd, Earl of Orkney; and Brodir of the Isle of Man. It lasted from sunrise to sunset, and ended in a rout of the Viking and Leinster forces. Over 10,000 people were killed in a single day and after the battle the Vikings of Dublin were reduced to a secondary power. Brian was killed in his tent after the battle.

The beauty of having a mission statement that states: This blog covers all aspects of the rich history of rowing, as a sport, culture phenomena, a life style, and a necessary element to keep your wit and stay sane, is that even the faintest link to rowing allows the HTBS elves to indulge themselves. Here’s the rub, Brian Boru may have died 800 years before rowing as we know it began to be documented (Rowing at Westminster from 1813 to 1883) but there is a link that permits your scribe to indulge himself, again!

Brian Boru Esqr. proclaim’d the winner of the Boat-race for a Cow. London. Published by Jones & Co. March 30, 1822. Courtesy of the River & Rowing Museum (Thomas E. Weil Collection).

Thanks to Thomas E. Weil, this engraving was brought to my attention at the first Rowing History Forum in England, which was held at the River & Rowing Museum in 2007. It appeared in the catalogue accompanying the 2005 exhibition Beauty and the Boats – art & artistry in early British rowing - illustrated from the Thomas E. Weil collection. Tom expressed his desire to learn more about Irish rowing (other than Brian Boru). Personally, I think he learned all he needs to know at Dublin Metropolitan Regatta in 1970, where he raced in the Yale University’s four before sampling Dublin’s finest tipple.

Yale’s lightweights with TEW at bow raced in Ireland in 1970.

The exhibition catalogue notes read:

One of a series of caricatures of Mr. Boru (the principal character in Pierce Egan’s ‘The Real Life in Ireland’ (1821), named after that country’s legendary first king), this image lampoons the practice of the time of awarding wherries to the winners of boat races. That wherries were big, heavy, and of little use to anyone but a waterman, may have inspired this satirist to suggest a cow as a prize of comparable bulk and higher utility.

Pierce Egan was born in 1772 in or around London to Irish parents. He established himself as a leading reporter of sporting events (mainly prize-fights and horse-races). He is more famous for his work Real Life in London but surprisingly, it is in his Real Life in Ireland that you will find his ‘rowing’ cartoon. This was republished in 1904 as Real Life in Ireland by a Real Paddy and a download of this version is available to purchase here.

Not a real Viking – No 2 daughter photographed at the RRM last Saturday.

As the 23 April 1014 fell on a Good Friday, the bulk of the commemorations and re-enactments took place last Friday with 40,000 people attending the Dublin event. There is a handy interactive map of the battle in The Irish Times article "How the Battle of Clontarf unfolded". Not been able to attend the event in Dublin did not deter us from staging our own re-enactment in the River and Rowing Museum on a family visit to Henley last Saturday.

Ida Bet She Was the Darling of the Waves

From the collection of Thomas E. Weil.

Rowing historian Thomas E. Weil writes:

Physicists will argue that two people cannot be in the same place at the same time, but a marvelous piece of rowing memorabilia may provide an exception to the rule. A small commercial albumen photograph, possibly published about 1870, and mounted on a piece of card (commonly called a carte de visite, or cdv), shows a picture of a young lady with wind-tossed hair sitting alone at the oars in a boat in heavy seas (see image above). While neither the photograph nor the side of the card to which it is affixed bear any identifying labels, the reverse of the card does. At the extreme opposite edges of that back side are printed two names: “Grace Darling” and “Ida Lewis” (see image below). While physics insists that the lady in the boat cannot be both, our intriguing cdv suggests otherwise. Whazzup?

From the collection of Thomas E. Weil.

Darling and Lewis were two popular heroic female figures of the nineteenth century. Each was a lighthouse keeper’s daughter who rescued shipwrecked unfortunates. There most similarities end, but that was all our anonymous cdv publisher needed to try to make one equal to two.

While Grace Darling (1815-1842) appears to have been more widely lionized, her fame arose from just one incident. Spotting the wreck of the steamship Forfarshire on a nearby island, on the morning of September 7, 1838, Darling, then 22, and her father rowed their 21-foot, 4-man Northumberland coble from the Longstone Lighthouse on the Farne Islands a mile out to the site in seas that were too heavy for the local lifeboat to brave. Upon reaching the remains of the vessel, Darling manned the oars while her father assisted four men and a woman into the boat, and her father and three of the men then rowed the coble back to the lighthouse. Four years later, without additional heroics, Grace was dead of tuberculosis.

From the collection of Thomas E. Weil.

From the collection of Thomas E. Weil.

The Grace Darling Monument, Bamburgh. Photo: Wikipedia.

Darling’s story fired England’s imagination, and produced articles, sheet music, books, poems, prints, paintings, memorabilia, a lifeboat named after her, a large monument in the cemetery in which she was buried and a recent musical. One of the first books, Grace Darling, or the Maid of the Isles, published the year following the rescue, praised “the girl with windswept hair”, which became a mainstay of the legend and most subsequent images. William Wordsworth celebrated her in his eponymous 1843 poem. Her fame has endured, generating several books in the 175 years since her feat, and a museum in the town of Bamburgh, which is dedicated to her memory as well as the story of local coastal life.

The improbably named Idawalley Zorada Lewis’s story presents a very different picture, as it were. Her exploits covered a lifetime. Lewis (1842-1911) was a young girl at Lime Rock Light in Newport, Rhode Island, when her father fell ill, leaving her mother and her to run the station until 1879, when her mother also fell ill. Lewis carried on all on her own. Over the years after her first rescue (1858), she saved between 18 and 36 people (many of whom found trouble while pleasure boating on Newport Bay), in most cases by rowing alone to the boat and pulling the victims from the water. Lewis’s recognition came mostly from newspapers and from lifesaving institutions, which gave her medals and pensions. While she did not inspire as many literary efforts as Grace Darling, Lime Rock was re-named Ida Lewis Rock in her honor, and the Coast Guard named a class of buoy-tenders after her. Interestingly, the same image shown on top is included as a picture of Ida Lewis in the Wikipedia article on her.

Ida Lewis with the tool of her trade. Photo from the online magazine Ocean Happening.

So what can we conclude about this cdv? We know nothing of the publisher, or the place or year of publication, but it is obvious that the publisher wished to take advantage of both of the Grace Darling and Ida Lewis markets if possible. The smaller photo was placed on the mounting card such that, depending on how close one trimmed the mount to the image, one could cut away either printed name on the reverse (or both) without damaging the photo, and market the cdv to suit the remaining “title”.

And the fidelity of the image? To begin with, it is an illustration (whether a drawing, watercolor or painting is not clear, but it is not a woodcut as described on Wikipedia), so it is a product of imagination. Darling rowed out with her father, so any depiction of her alone in the boat in the open seas is pure fiction. On the other hand, between the age of the person shown and the state of the waves, the image seems unlikely to represent Lewis.

I would posit that this was originally a fanciful (and inaccurate) glorification of Grace Darling, “the girl with windswept hair”, which was then appropriated to serve as a souvenir of Ida Lewis … or, as this publisher shows, either or both women. The truth was beside the point, because the legend was the point. That the stories of Darling and Lewis were publicized at the time as extraordinary performances by singularly unusual women rather than to suggest that these feats might demonstrate the capability of women to not just survive, but excel at, strenuous physical activity at the oars, is, in a way, rather sad. In addition to demonstrating their bravery, had these women been recognized a century and a half ago as showing that, contrary to popular belief, women might be strong enough to engage in competitive rowing, our sport and its history would have been much the better for it.

Was the First Wanker a Belgian Oarsman?

The Belgian “vainqueurs” or victors of the 1907 Grand Challenge Cup at Henley Royal Regatta.

HTBS is proud to welcome famous rowing historian and collector Thomas E. Weil as a guest writer of today’s blog post. Thomas has a special take on the word “wanker”, which he thinks may have originated in the rowing world.

Thomas writes:

“Wanker” is a disparaging term, used widely throughout the Commonwealth countries, which has been “ranked as the fourth most severe pejorative in English” (Wikipedia, citing Advertising Standards Authority, December 2000, accessed via Wayback Machine. Retrieved January 14, 2012. (pdf)). While a number of sources trace its origins to post-WW1 (the Online Etymology Dictionary, for instance, cites its earliest appearance to “British naval slang for ‘midshipman’ (1929)”, I am inclined to agree with the statement that “The terms wank and wanker originated in British slang during the late 19th and early 20th century” (Wikipedia, citing A Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English. Eric Partridge, Paul Beale. Routledge, 15 Nov 2002).

Falling squarely within this earlier time frame, my hypothesis for the origin of the term points directly to the results of the Grand Challenge Cup event at Henley Royal Regatta in 1906, 1907 and 1909, when, to the shock and horror of the English rowing world, the premier eights prize of the kingdom was won by non-English crews.

Several American eights had crossed the Atlantic to be vanquished over the almost three-quarters of a century that the Grand had been contested, but European crews had only rarely bothered to venture the short distance across the English Channel to challenge for the trophy before 1906. So, when Belgian crews from two clubs in Ghent won England’s most precious rowing prize three times in four years (and skipped the fourth because it was an Olympic year), English oarsmen were inconsolably traumatized. What was a frustrated Englishman to do?

It probably didn’t help matters much when the Royal Club Nautique de Gand struck a commemorative medal that showed a toga-wearing woman seated on a Roman galley deck victoriously blowing a trumpet while the British lion cowered at her feet.

The commemorative medal struck by the Royal Club Nautique de Gand. On the other side of the medal it says: "De Stad Gent/Great [sic!] Challenge Cup/Henley".

Nor would the British have been pleased at the sight of postcards touting the victories that popped up in the mail following the Belgian accomplishments. The postcards, which showed the crews posed on a bench or seated in their boat, were often headed “Vainqueurs au Grand Challenge Cup a Henley” (see image on top of a 1907 postcard).

Was the choice of “vainqueurs” (or “victors”), rather than the more typically English and modest term “winners”, particularly provocative? Perhaps it was. Was it so provocative as to have instigated a vicious verbal counter-volley?  It could have been ...

“Vainqueur”, for practical purposes, is pronounced “vang-cur”, with the emphasis on the second syllable. Given the not uncommon practice in some circles of pronouncing a “v” like a “w”, could annoyed Englishmen have picked up on the Belgians’ own term, and started sarcastically and disparagingly referring to them as “wang-curs”, or “wankers” (with the accent on the first syllable)? Certainly they could have!

Did they? Who knows, but all of the ingredients for an international slanging war were there, and the timing is right for the supposition that first uses occurred some time in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. And that usage may easily have been exacerbated in later years by the contempt for the Europeans who crumbled so quickly in the face of Germany’s WWI advances, only then to be saved at the cost of so many British lives.

Should our breasts not swell with pride to think that the sport we love may have been the source of “the fourth most severe pejorative in English”? Absolutely. (And might we be grateful that it was the Belgians and not the French who first succeeded at Henley, in which event we might be using the term “grenwee” instead of wanker? Peut-être ...)

More on 'Shaved' Blades

HTBS has received two e-mails related to the entry about Ran Laurie’s ‘narrow blade’ that was posted on Friday 27 September. In one e-mail rowing historian Bill Lanouette, who recently wrote on HTBS about Thomas Eakins’s ‘newly’ discovered rowing painting, writes:

That’s a fascinating exchange about English strokes using narrow blades. As a stroke myself I would have loved to use such an oar, but in the 1960s at least, when I rowed in England, all blades were the same size. And, honestly, as a stroke I’m glad they were because you couldn’t feel the poise and power of the crew – and know what pace to set – if you weren’t just as exhausted as the other guys.

The second e-mail came from another rowing historian, Tom Weil, who on this matter writes:

As Guy Nickalls [seen in the photograph] was casting about to improve his 1921 Yale crew, which he had termed ‘gutless’, he saw the performance of one J. Freeman, who had just stroked Yale’s very first 150 lb. crew to victory in the American Henley on the Schuylkill. He put the lightweight Freeman into the stroke seat of the New London crew, and equipped him with a shaved blade. Nickalls was fired by the Yale Committee because of his unfortunate comment, but his parting contribution to the Yale varsity, wielding his shaved oar, led the ‘gutless’ crew to victory over Harvard.

There is an interesting photograph showing Guy Nickalls and freshman coach Giannini at Yale’s training quarters at Gales Ferry on 10 June, 1915 (© Bettmann/CORBIS), here.

Are there any more ideas out there about a stroke’s narrow or ‘shaved’ blade? If so, please send it to: gbuckhorn – at – gmail.com

A History of Collegiate Rowing in America

American rowing historians and rowing history buffs alike are very proud to announce that rowing – that is, the sport of rowing – was the first collegiate sport in the USA. Modelled after the famous Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race, which was raced the first time in 1829, the first Yale-Harvard race took place at Lake Winnipesaukee in 1852, with a victory for Harvard. In 1852, Harvard and Yale were not the only colleges with a rowing programme; Dartmouth started its programme in the beginning of the 1830s and students at Trinity College (Hartford, Conn.) formed a rowing club in 1849 (with Yale in 1843 and Harvard in 1844).

Although, rowing clubs were formed outside the colleges, it was collegiate rowing that was the firm base whereupon American rowing was resting for many years. It was, for example, college and university crews that represented the USA (and took the gold medals) in the eights in the Olympic Games from 1920 to 1956. Today there are more than 300 rowing programmes in America, Daniella K. Garran writes in her A History of Collegiate Rowing in America, which was published last autumn by Schiffer Publishing. As with most of Schiffer’s books, A History of Collegiate Rowing in America has a generous amount of beautiful illustrations, well, 142 to be exact, and with that it is a real coffee table book. With all these hundreds of rowing programmes widespread over the country, it is impossible to mention them all in a book close to 200 pages. Instead, it is the usual colleges and universities that are counted up with brief historic notes; in addition to those already mentioned: Bowdoin, Penn, Cornell, Princeton, Brown, Navy, Syracuse, Wisconsin, Washington, Cal-UW, Stanford, UCLA, to only mention a few. Garran, whose own rowing career was as a successful coxswain at Connecticut College in New London, Conn., in order to cover as much ground, or should I say, water, as possible has special chapters on famous collegiate rowing coaches (Courtney, Ebright, Gladstone, Nash, Parker, Teti, Ulbrickson, etc., etc.), Head races, Championships, Sprint races, Women’s rowing, Lightweight rowing, Conferences, and also regattas abroad: Henley in England and Canadian Henley, Under 23 Championships, World University Championships and, of course, the Olympics. Other text bites are rowing equipment and rowing term glossary.

The ambitious author has really tried to cover all the bases, not merely by giving us a lot of the history of the different clubs, coaches, crews, and lists of all rowing programmes, etc., she has also added ‘oddities’ that for non-rowers might seem peculiar: ‘shirt betting’ and ‘cox tossing’. Clearly, Garren’s work is meant to be a reference book for those high school students – rowers and non-rowers – who aspire to row at a college or university, but also to steer the post-collegiate student in the right direction when he or she just have to continue to mess around in boats after college graduation, at a club or on a high level as the World Championships or the Olympics.

A History of Collegiate Rowing in America is indeed a well-written book and with its many marvellous photographs, most of them in colour – personally I am happy to see some photographs from the National Rowing Hall of Fame in Mystic, Conn., – it is a grand looking book. However, I cannot help wishing for more interference from an editor. Some of the ‘chapters’ or sections are bits and pieces that now look thrown in at the back of the book in lack of better spots and meaning. I found the rowing songs and poems in the book tremendously interesting, except without any deeper descriptions or analysis of these texts, what is the point of publishing them?

I also wished that Garren and/or the publisher would have contacted one or all of the three renowned American rowing historians, Tom Weil, Bill Miller or Peter Mallory, for a quick read-through of the manuscript. I am sure they would have spotted some of the unfortunate historical mistakes and errors that have sneaked into the book. To mention some: Hiram Conibear, coach at University of Washington, did not die in a car accident, he died from falling down from a tree (Garren has it correct in one place of the book but wrong in another – the question still remains: was it a plum, an apple or a pear tree?); the Syracuse coach Gus Eriksen was not a native of Sweden, he was born in Seattle, but could speak Swedish because his parents came from the Swedish-speaking island of Åland, which belongs to Finland; the first Americans to race at Henley Royal Regatta where not from Columbia College in 1878, it was E. Smith of Atlanta RC (New York) in 1872 in the Diamonds; and R.C. Lehmann did not write his Rowing (1897) together with Bertram Fletcher Robinson, the later was the editor of the book (but C.M. Pitman and Guy Nickalls wrote a chapter each in the book). While Garren writes that ‘one cannot help but compare Doggett’s Coat and Badge [Race] to some of the long-storied cup races in American collegiate rowing or to centuries-long traditions such as the Harvard-Yale race’, I have to confess that I do have a hard time comparing any American amateur collegiate rowing race with an English sculling race for professionals which was rowed for the first time close to 70 years before the USA got its independence.

Whereas these historical hiccups are slightly irritating, the over-all view of this book is positive. No one can deny that Daniella Garran loves the sport of rowing and that she wants to share it with as many people as possible. I wish her luck in this endeavour.

Probably not a Paris Crew Medal after all...

Yesterday’s entry about John Elton’s medal created a little stir. Rowing historians Bill Miller and Tom Weil both contacted me and wanted to ‘down grade’ Elton’s medal. Bill writes that, ‘It’s my belief that this is not a Paris Crew medal.’ As the medal has no inscription it’s probably ‘a participants’ medal which were dozens and possibly it was given to one of the English crews (Oxford/London RC) [at the regatta]’, Bill writes. And Tom agrees: ‘I concur completely with Bill’s comments’, Tom writes. He continues to give descriptions of two medals in his collection at the River and Rowing Museum in Henley, one of which John mentioned yesterday. Tom writes:

1867 Gold colored circular medal with Guivre stamped on edge. [obv] crown with four towers above elaborate shield with fleur de lis in upper panel and five-oared galley with sail on lower panel, with "FLVCTVAT NEC MERGITVR" on ribbon below [rev] cattails and anchor over crossed oars device "Societe des Regates Parisiennes" and marked "Hamel a Rouen."  Inscribed "Bois de Boulogne/ 1er Prix 1867" Diam 2.25" 10/02.

1867 Bronze circular medal [obv] "Napoleon III Empereur" [showing bust] [rev] outer band "Exposition Universelle"; interior field "Concurrent des Regates Internationales de 1867"  Diam  1+7/16" 10/02.

Tom then writes, ‘The former is the medal described and shown in the HTBS entry, except that, as best I can tell, the HTBS one has a blank field on the reverse where mine is inscribed "Bois de Boulogne/ 1er Prix 1867". So the HTBS medal may be a stock strike that was never awarded to anyone for anything.

Tom continues, ‘Were one of the two to be a "Paris crew" race medal, it seems to me that it is more likely the second one listed, which is inscribed "Concurrent des Regates Internationales de 1867", but the word "Concurrent" is a bit ambiguous, and the medal itself does not confirm that it is a prize, much less that it was won in a particular event or by a particular crew.’

HTBS's Greg Denieffe has this to add:

Here are links to the two medals that Tom Weil has lent to the RRM - 1867 Napoleon III Empereur medal (reverse) & 1867 Gold colour circular medal (obverse).

And here is a Bronze medal commemorating the Paris Exhibition 1867: Emperor Napoleon III, Emperor of France (1808-1873) in the National Trust collection. This may have the same obverse as the RRM medal but the reverse is completely different. And another.

There are plenty more examples of the Napoleon III medal on the web, so it looks like it was the medal (with different reverses) awarded throughout the exhibition as prizes and awards

HTBS’s Hélène Rémond writes, 'the medal featured on HTBS was not a prize. The word “concurrent” means the rower has taken part in the race, that he was one of the competitors. Thus, I agree with Bill and Tom, it must be a participants’ medal.

'By the way, there is a Napoléon III medal available for sale (Exposition universelle Paris 1867 Concurrent des régates internationales de 1867, bronze, engraver: Hamel diametre : 31mm, very good condition) at € 40 on this website.

1867 Paris Exhibition Regatta Medal for Sale!

HTBS received the news that John Elton in England has a rowing medal for sale. It is not just any ‘old’ medal, it is an 1867 medal won by one of the members of the distinguished and famous ‘Paris Crew’. This is the Canadian team who beat the London Rowing Club crew in the race at the Paris Exhibition Regatta in 1867. John writes, ‘It is the 1867 Paris Exhibition Regatta Medal. Gold color, French, hallmarked silver, 88 grams.’ The medal had once belonged to John’s grandfather, but he does not know how it ever came into the hands of his grandfather. The only other medal that exists from that race, that John is aware of, is in the Thomas E. Weil Collection at the River and Rowing Museum in Henley. The Paris Crew was inducted into the Canadian Sports Hall of Fame in 1956.

Anyone who has a serious interest in this item is welcome to contact John at:

+44 (0)1189731827
+44 (0)7941063010
john(at-sign)johnelton.com

You will find more information about the Paris Crew, the 1867 race and their races against James Renforth crews, here. 

PS. I have unfortunately promised my wife not to buy it!

See also: "Probably not a Paris Crew Medal after all...", 15 March, 2013.

The First Henley Regatta Programme

Earlier this summer, Tom Weil, famous rowing historian and collector, rowing writer and aquatic connoisseur par excellence, donated a real gem to the River and Rowing Museum in Henley-on-Thames: a copy of the first Henley Regatta programme from 14 June 1839 (when the regatta was not yet 'Royal'). Weil had bought the one-page programme from the estate of Hart Perry, together with a copy of the 1840 programme, in March when there was a fund-raising event at the Rowing Hall of Fame in Mystic, Connecticut. I was present when he bought it, and one could really feel that an important rowing history act was taking place.

A British lady, Philippa Ratcliffe, has elegantly written about this important donation to the River and Rowing Museum, you can read her piece here.

Tom Weil’s Rowing Prizes At RRM

RRM has a new exhibit on rowing prizes from the collection of famous rowing historian and collector Thomas E Weil.

The River and Rowing Museum in Henley-on-Thames has just opened a new exhibition: “The Art of the Prize – Rowing Prizes from the Thomas E Weil Collection”.

Thomas E Weil, living in Connecticut, USA, and a trustee of RRM, is a renown rowing historian and collector. Weil has donated multiple rowing objects and artefacts both to RRM and to the rowing exhibit located at the NRF’s National Rowing Hall of Fame, at this time located at Mystic Seaport in Mystic, Connecticut. From the exhibition at RRM, HTBS has picked the following information:

Tom Weil. Photo: Andy Price

“Trophies in their many varieties make up a substantial part of the Weil collection but he has also gifted the Museum an array of rowing memorabilia including paintings, postcards, photographs, books, films, posters, prints, cartoons, programmes, pamphlets, and coins. A small selection of these are displayed here to provide some idea of the collection’s scope and diversity.

“This exhibit presents a selection of the great variety of individual prize forms that have been essayed in British rowing history. From silver arm badges, wherries and oars, to the wooden water barrel or oar, to the array of chalices, goblets, mugs and tankards, to the metallic medal, no rowing nation has surpassed Britain in its imaginative search for forms of athletic recognition, and few could match the artistry and craftsmanship devoted to the production of these treasured artifacts. The objects displayed here are largely drawn from amateur rowing’s first century.

“A popular conceit regarding the character and domain of rowing in Britain is ‘toffs on the Thames’. While the two best known boat-racing fixtures, Henley Royal Regatta and the Boat Race, may be guilty of that characterization to some extent, and the Thames is undoubtedly the most rowed river in Britain, this display proffers abundant evidence of the spread and practice of the sport of rowing across the nation. Boat clubs and regattas flourished along the east, west and south coasts, and sprouted inland where rivers were found. The venues shown here are but a sample - for lack of space, a great many British rowing sites could not be represented.”

From Weil’s beautiful Beauty and the Boats – art & artistry in early British rowing (2005) the book’s author says

“The zealotry of which I am occasionally accused and probably guilty has never been a burden. I am continuously moved by the thrill of an acquisition, the pleasure of a discovery, the satisfaction of learning, the joy of sharing, and the honour of teaching in a field which has never had its own champion”.

Well, it is pretty clear to me that the Champion of Collecting Rowing Memorabilia is, and has been for quite some time: Thomas E Weil!

RRM also has some other interesting exhibits going on right now:

“The Perfect Rower – 100 years of racing for glory”: Find out what made the perfect rower in the previous London Olympic Games in 1908 and 1948 and what it takes to become an Olympic champion in 2012.

“John Piper (1903-1992) – The Gyselynck Collection”: A stunning private collection of Piper’s work exhibited for the first time in the UK.

“Triumphant Thames – The Thiess International River Prize”: A partnership exhibition with the Environment Agency celebrating the dramatic recovery of the River Thames from a biologically dead river in the 1950s to today’s thriving waterway.

“Oarsome – Paintings by Tonia Williams”: Vivid contemporary artwork by the former World Champion and Team GB lightweight oarswoman, Tonia Williams.

“The Best of Our Sporting Life”: This display brings together examples of the some of the best stories collected from around the country.