Emile Moisson

I tale worth telling. Two men I know, of whom I am very fond, have a tale to tell. They are in their 90's now. Their father from Pawtucket, RI. evidently was very talented at repairing textile looms. Before WWII he moved to France, to work in Lyon. His two sons attended public school. The war broke out. For those of you who are familiar with the history of that time in France, Phillippe Petain established the Vichy government, and fashioned an agreement with Germany. In exchange for two civilians, a prisoner of war would be released. The two boys were selected despite being american citizens. They were determined not to go. They enlisted in the french resistance, their american passports were destroyed, and they were given the identities of dead frenchmen, one being Emile Moisson.

When the war ended, they went to the American embassy wishing to return to Pawtucket. Naturally they were asked to produced proof of citizenship. It took another five years to get home.

Miami to San Diego

I am still kicking myself for not taking photographs of this trip. A friend( Tom Dykstra) called and asked if I would help tow a Dragon ( then an Olympic Class) from Miami to San Diego, I flew to Miami and the next morning we took off. we got as far as Orlando, where we were forced to stay overnight as a new transmission was installed. (a harbinger of things to come) Drove to Pensacola , without adventure. Our goal had been to drive 600 miles a day. With two of us driving it sounded feasible. We changed drivers each time we filled up with gas; which was about every two hours, as it turned out.

The Next night found us in New Orleans. I made a call and chose a well know restaurant, and ordered a $50.00 bottle of St. Julian to go with my steak. We looked a little scruffy and the restaurant didn't quite know what to do with us.

Leaving New Orleans, driving on small roads through the bayous; bermed. I had the feeling that if we went off the road, no one would know and certainly not even think to look for us. Into Texas, This state seemed to last forever, it accounted for 1000 miles of the trip. We drove until San Antonio, finding a motel in front of the Alamo. It was also my first experience on a waterbed. I thought I would freeze, not understanding I needed to turn on the heater.

Each day, started early, in an attempt to meet our goal of 600 miles. Into New Mexico. Almost running out of gas in the desert. I stayed with the boat, while Tom drove for gas, a lonely feeling. That night, still driving, something was wrong. the alternator had failed. nothing was open. Finally, someone suggested that someone off in the desert worked on cars might have something to help us. Off we went driving without headlights, towing 7,000 pounds. Finding a shack, we knocked and sure enough he had an alternator of the right amperage but not designed to fit the car we were driving. we fashioned spacers and bolts. Off we went, on the road again.

Exiting the highway near Gila Bend, the timing gear and chain failed. We were towed to he gas station, which was just closing. Old Jerry Beet, offered to drive us to a motel, but wanted to stop for a drink on the way. It was a place straight out of a movie. A low roof, old trailers behind it. surrounded by sagebrush. Inside,smoky, dimly lit, full of beer, people playing pool. Jerry was a regular, we sat at the bar, I was feeling particularly out of place. a girl came up behind me, rubbing her chest across my back, with the words "hey baby, want to mess around?" Jerry giggled, with the words, she's good, I've already tried her. I try all the new girls. That's what the trailers were for.

Once the car was back together, off again,we could now feel that the conclusion of our adventure was near. Driving through the pass in the mountains, the transmission was smoking, we did make it through however. Shortly after that we were stopped by the highway patrol, and ticketed for having an excessively dirty car. I was in disbelief, welcome to California.

I remained in San Diego for several months re-building the boat for the Olympics, (the boat earned a bronze medal) We were working at Kevin Savel's place. He had built the boat. and was the foremost builder of Dragons at the time. His true love was building string instruments, however he could not earn a living at that, so he turned to boats. San Diego was a small navy town at the time.

I had met Hoyle and Diane Schweitzer(the creator of windsurfing) a few years earlier, and we spent many weekends sailing windsurfers with them.

WOW

this just makes me smile every time.(double click on WOW, it will take you to a link)

Woodstock Generation

I refer to myself as being of the Woodstock generation; although I was not at Woodstock, in fact, at the time, I had no idea what it was. When Woodstock took place I was in the middle of the Atlantic ocean racing.

I only later found out, after my return from Europe at the end of the summer. My roommate from college picked me up at the airport with the words "How was Woodstock?" To which I replied "What's Woodstock?"

Once school started I also realized that despite the size of the crowd at Woodstock; if everyone I talked to and had claimed to have been there; the crowd would have been twice as large.

We take for granted today large concerts. Woodstock became an icon for my generation. Still significant, for so many reasons. It represented the good in my generation, but that goodness lasted such a brief moment. The first Earth Day. The Whole Earth Catalogue. I would consider that it was this moment that Buckminster Fuller gained true recognition. Protest against the Vietnam War, due largely as result of the Draft. All of these things and more were positive.

Regrettably I blame my generation for many of the problems we have today. While I college I attended a lecture by Harvey Cox, then teaching a t Harvard. He warned of the impending catastrophe resulting from drugs. My generation wanted to not just change the way things were, they wanted to undo the existing value system; without replacing the values with new set.To be liberated. This created a structureless society. The change was to much at once, and we are living the consequences now.

Hair, became another symbol of rebellion, an outward manifestation, a badge if you like. Anyone with short hair was deemed unworthy. Ironically, anyone with long hair said "don't judge me by the way I look"; yet they would immediately pass judgement on anyone who did not look like them. Woodstock was supposed to be a symbol of harmony and cooperation; how a large group could co-exist crowded together.

Homework

When I was lofting "Courageous" at Minneford's on City Island; Phil Rhodes would come around the yard. He was retired from yacht design, but I never met anyone who had been involved in boats to let go just because time had moved on. Boats are a passion. It was clear that for Mr. Rhodes it was no different. We would chat; It must have become clear to him that I shared his passion. He started bringing work sheets with technical problems of various sorts for me to solve. The following week he would collect the "homework" and give me another set of problems to work on. I would receive the corrected sheets with comments. Something that continued until his death.

Call Me "Sir"

Before the America's Cup Jubilee Prince Michael of Kent came sailing with us aboard "Columbia" the twelve meter in Newport. I recognized him as soon as he stepped aboard. Not quit sure of how to engage him in conversation, after a bit of reflection I had a thought. Uffa Fox had taught him to sail, and had probably helped him get drunk for the first time, in his teens, along with many other adventures. You had to know Uffa.

As we approached the moment when we had to prepare for the day's racing , I asked Prince Michael how I should address him while racing. His response:"You may call me sir."

The rest of the day all communication was prefaced by "Sir".

Senator Claiborne Pell

Senator Pell's funeral was today. He was all the things that everyone said about him. He was of a generation and an upbringing that the world is in desperate need. I am certain that each one of us has met or knows someone of that older generation who by thought, word and deed has quietly set an example, if we are wise enough to follow, makes us a better person and a better citizen of the world. The void left will be hard to fill, and I hope it will not be crowded out by the fast moving pace of today's society.

BAZZINI'S

The photo at the right is of the Bazzini's. Regrettably it is out of focus. For those of us (the crew of Weald) a swan 48 in the 1975 trans-atlantic race, it is a fond memory. Bazzini's is really a specialty store; the link will get you there. We had their peanut butter aboard for the race. The poster of the girls somehow got labeled.

More College Years

College Sailing was so much fun. I had the good fortune to have great teammates; Skip Whyte, Henry Bossett. Mike Fenton, Johnny Hayes,Clay Evans,Chris Wells, Turtle, Norm Windus, and of course our coach Ned Caswell.

We sailed at the Naval Academy several times a year, unsally late fall, and early spring. Annapolis is far enough south that it made a tremendous difference in the weather. They also had fabulous facilities and could host large regattas.

Baltimore was not far away, and Saturday nights would often find us there. Baltimore in the sixties was rough. It had the "Block"; Boston had the "Combat Zone". I doubt that many people could tell you where these places were, as not a trace exists any longer of their existence. Blaze Starr was famous and she had her Joint in the Block. The Photograph is proof that we were indeed there.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blaze_Starr