America’s Cup

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America’s Cup

A Gentlemanly Rivalry. When the Earl of Wilton, Commodore of the Royal Yacht Squadron, heard of the New York Yacht Club’s plan to show a vessel at the Great Exhibition in London in 1851, he wrote a welcoming letter to his American counterpart, Comm. John C. Stevens. Not mentioning a competition, he suggested he would be glad to learn “of any improvements in shipbuilding that the industry and skill of your nation have enabled you to elaborate.” Stephens, a man who had introduced cricket to his countrymen, could read the Englishman’s intent between the lines. In his reply he informed Lord Wilton that he would be crossing the Atlantic in America, a yacht that was then under construction, and raised the issue of a race: “We propose to avail ourselves of your friendly bidding and take with good grace the sound thrashing we are likely to get by venturing our longshore craft on your rough waters.”

America. Despite his deprecating reply, Stevens and the other members of the syndicate—his brother Edwin, George L. Schuyler, J. Beekman Finlay, Col. James A. Hamilton, and Hamilton Wilkes—were confident of success. They had ordered “the fastest yacht afloat” from George Steers, an admired ship designer, and the builder, William Brown, had offered to forego his bill if America did not answer their needs. Although the new yacht was easily bested in a trial race with Maria, another of Stevens’s yachts which had been designed for speed on smooth water, the ninety-three foot-America —with its sails tautly lashed to its booms and its long, hollow, sharp bow that gave it a wedge-shaped appearance—clearly combined seaworthiness with winning speed. Skippered by Capt. Dick Brown, America set sail from New York on 21 June, arriving on 11 July at Le Havre, a French port on the English Channel, to make final preparations.

Showing Her Stuff. On its crossing of the channel on 1 August, America was discovered by one of its top English rivals, Lavrock. Stevens imprudently allowed his ship to show her speed in the informal race, thus spoiling the odds he could have gotten in wagers on his yacht. Upon docking at the port the Americans found that their ship had gained a formidible reputation. The Times likened its arrival at Cowes, a yachting port on the Isle of Wight, to the “appearance of a sparrow-hawk among a flock of woodpigeons or skylarks.” When no individual matches could be arranged, it was decided that America would race in a Squadron regatta for the standard trophy, a cup worth one hundred guineas. After a poor start the Americans quickly forged ahead of the pack and led the field of fourteen other entrants around the Isle of Wight, finishing in ten hours and thirty-seven minutes, eight minutes ahead of their nearest competitor.

The Deed of Gift. The five syndicate members of America had no immediate intention of making the America’s Cup an enduring legacy. The 134-ounce, 27-inch tall trophy—which is not really a cup at all as it has no bottom—was passed from one member to another and proudly displayed at social functions, but at one point the men considered melting it down to cast commemorative medals so each could have a keepsake. At length they acted on George L. Schuyler’s suggestion and on 8 July 1857 deeded the cup to the New York Yacht Club:

It is to be distinctly understood that the cup is to be the property of the club, and not the members thereof, or owners of the vessel winning it in the match; and that the condition of keeping it open to be sailed for by yacht clubs of all foreign countries upon the terms laid down, shall forever attach to it, thus making it perpetually a challenge cup for friendly competition between foreign countries.

Although the intent of the deed was clear, “the terms laid down” were subject to interpretation.

The Ashbury Challenges. The first challenges for the America’s Cup were made by James Ashbury, a businessman who aspired to be a member of Parliament, in 1870 and 1871. In a strained correspondence with the New York Yacht Club, Ashbury negotiated for a race to his liking. From the beginning he insisted that the word match implied a contest between two ships, a challenger and a defender, but the New Yorkers seemed reluctant to grant the point. In 1870 the negotiations ended with an ultimatum from the club—Ashbury would either forego his challenge or race for the cup with any and all club yachts that chose to enter. On 8 August, racing in a field of eighteen on the club’s regular course in New York Harbor, Ashbury’s Cambria finished eighth; America

placed fourth; and Magic carried the day. The next year Ashbury succeeded in his quest to race against a single opponent in a best-of-seven series of races, but the club claimed the right of choosing its champion for each race from among four defenders. The American yacht Columbia defeated Ashbury’s Livonia in the first two matches but lost the third; Sappho was then chosen to defend the cup and won the fourth and fifth races to end the series. Ashbury, who believed he should have been awarded the second race because Columbia had rounded a stake boat incorrectly, claimed the sixth and seventh races by default and demanded the cup. The New York Yacht Club did not oblige.

A Centennial Challenge. Five years passed before the next challenge was made for the America’s Cup, this time from Canada, and the New York Yacht Club was a good deal more complaisant than it had been in its dealings with Ashbury. Facing difficult times, with a declining membership and unstable finances, the club saw the defense of the cup in the country’s centennial year as a means of boosting their sport. When the New Yorkers seemed to be holding out for a similar arrangement as that of the 1871 races with Ashbury, the leader of the challengers, Maj. Charles Gifford of the Royal Canadian Yacht Club of Toronto, protested that it was too much of an advantage for the defenders to be able to select a champion to suit the conditions of a particular day from among several yachts. The club eventually agreed to choose one defender, Madeleine, which easily handled the Canadian ship, Countess of Dufferin, in two August 1876 races. Despite their poor showing, the Canadians had infused new life into the America’s Cup races, putting the tradition of a single defender racing a single challenger on solid footing for the future.