pageantry gave way to comedy and a fire on the lake when kingston hosted olympic yachting in 1976
7 minute read
in this photo from the whig-standard archive, prime minister pierre trudeau takes in the olympic yachting races with the event's director-general col. cam jones from the officials' boat on lake ontario just off wolfe island on july 21, 1976. (photo by bill baird/kingston whig-standard)
the olympics bring together athletes from around the world, among them the legendary and the obscure, everyone from the transcendent to the overmatched. the range provides a formula for high drama, low comedy and occasional tragedy — what doesn’t inspire and cause pulses to race, might tickle or give rise to grieving.
this essence of the olympics in macro terms is evident in its component disciplines at every games, and no less in the yachting competition in kingston in 1976 — yes, the six events were officially listed in the program as “yachting,” the rebranding of the sport as “sailing” still being a couple of decades in the offing.
yachting lacked the profile of the top-billed sports — it couldn’t compete for attention with athletics taking place at the olympic stadium or gymnastics and boxing which shared time at the forum. the races on alpha, bravo and charlie courses on lake ontario were a long way from shoreline, never mind the international media gathered in montreal.
today, coverage of sailing leans on tracking technology and hi-def cameras mounted on board or carried by hovering drones. as spectator sport in days of yore, olympic yachting left a lot to be desired as the whig-standard laid out in a preview on the editorial page on july 17, 1976: “even those who finish first (in races) will not be sure if they have won. those spectators who are lucky enough to secure places of vantage near to the course may not even see who finished first. only the most experienced of yachtsmen in position of special vantage will be able to judge at any time what boats are favoured for the finish.”
thus, for those looking on, the thrill of victory and agony of defeat would be scrubbed for mystery and ambiguity, the final standing issued by officials after tabulation. any hope for boat owners sailing out to view the races in ’76 was severely limited by the security detail, which was operating on constant code red after the terrorist attack on the israeli team in the olympic village in munich four years before.
advertisement
on the second day of racing, queen elizabeth ii came to kingston to take in the races aboard the hmy britannia with prince philip, though much of the press corps on the scene seemed charmed by her second-born son, 16-year-old andrew, which is to say some high-society notes age better than others.
the royals would be shown around the site by lord killanin of ireland, then the head of the international olympic committee, and would receive a steady stream of vips, among them ontario premier bill davis and former governor-general roland michener. and with her yacht anchored 800 metres from shore, the queen waved at a process of international sailors heading out to their respective racecourses.
while the windsors’ attendance made for a spectacle for the ardent monarchists on the shore, it distresses for sandy riley 50 years later. the queen’s grad who had won the first race in the finn class, riley cites the commotion around her royal highness’s yacht as the cause of a false start that might have cost him his shot at an olympic medal. yes, for the canadian sailor, it was rue britannia.
after the queen left kingston for bromont to see princess anne ride for the british equestrian team, then prime minister pierre trudeau arrived for the third day of racing accompanied by his wife margaret and his young sons justin and sasha. the pm might have hoped to bask in the reflected glow of the games at a distance, but he was still stinging from criticism for his controversial decision to block taiwan’s olympic team entry into the country because its officials were determined to compete as the republic of china.
“i had a nice chat that day with the prime minister, who was just standing on the dock one day with one of his sons running around,” says allan leibel, who sailed the canadian tempest boat with his cousin, lorne leibel. “i suggested to him that we swap jobs for a day — you sail the boat and i’ll be the pm. he told me, ‘the country would be very well-run, but canada wouldn’t do well on the racecourse.’ ”
advertisement
the royal family, the trudeaus and sundry dignitaries stood by while the sailors raced, but as the whig-standard editorial noted, they’d be taking in the vista rather than knowledgeably tracking the races with any sort of reading of leaders and chasers.
as glorious as the scenery might have been, as dramatic as the races were for those reasonably contesting for medals, turns that were odd, curious and even farcical made for a steady diet of sidebar stories to lighten the mood.
it wasn’t a laughing matter when lorne leibel was summoned by officials for a urine test after a fifth-place finish with the pm in attendance. leibel had taken two dristan tablets, an over-the-counter antihistamine and decongestant, for relief from his chronic asthma — a lapse, given that the leibels and all canadian sailors had been provided a list of banned substances.
the leibels were under threat of being thrown out of the games for the use of a commonplace medication that gave them no competitive advantage. fellow competitors were appalled. “what could help them, a drug for seasickness?” said john albrechtson, who helmed the swedish boat that won the gold medal in tempest class.
after a one-hour hearing in montreal, the leibels were allowed to continue in the competition, but the fifth-place finish was scrubbed, and they were dropped to last place in the race. it was a letdown, but not the worst possible outcome. “i’m not using it as an excuse,” allan leibel says. “we wouldn’t have medaled (without the penalty) in my view.”
alan warren and david hunt came to kingston as contenders — the british sailors had won the silver medal in the tempest class in the 1972 games and previously won world championships. if humour counted in the standings, they’d have owned the podium, as every morning they came down to breakfast in the queen’s university residence in comic costumes, some of them unreprintable ethnic stereotypes that might age no better than the aforementioned former prince.
advertisement
like pagliacci’s clown, warren and hunt had tears to shed and their amateur vaudeville routines provided cover for profound disappointment: they had sailed well in the european championships two months before the games, but their monohull keelboat was damaged in transit to kingston. the rushed repairs made it barely seaworthy or at least lake-worthy, but took the british sailors out of the running for medals — they’d need all their seamanship and resolve just to make it from start to finish. they had christened the boat gift ‘orse, but at this point, to carry the metaphor, an equine dentist would have fitted it for dentures.
the exact whereabouts of gift ‘orse today are not exactly known, not a matter of provenance but rather the whim of lake ontario’s currents. after an eighth-place finish on the final day left warren and hunt in 14th place in a 16-nation field, the pair salvaged the sails and then set fire to the boat out on the lake. it wasn’t a fit of pique — they had lugged a can of kerosene around the course that day.
safely aboard a boat of a passing belgian sailor, warren and hunt were prepared to watch the nautical immolation run its course. federal security personnel then joined in the fun, ramming their boat into gift ‘orse to expedite the sinking. “she went lame on us,” warren later told reporters, “so we decided the poor old ‘orse should be cremated.” the finale was the goons, monty python and a fish called wanda rolled into one. (though the belgian accessory was never identified, chief among the suspects was jacques rogge, who’d later rise to the presidency of the international olympic committee.)
“warren and hunt were legends,” says jay cross, who sailed for canada in the 470 class in kingston.
newspapers provide the first draft of history, but not always a story in full. often events go unseen at the time, or their effects truly unfold years and even decades after.
advertisement
to mark the 50th anniversary of kingston’s hosting the olympic regatta, the whig-standard is publishing a series of features about sailors whose stories only started with their pursuit of medals on lake ontario. in last weekend’s whig-standard, the tempest competition is the focus: a swedish duo’s mystical run, taking down sailing legends from the u.s. and soviet union. tomorrow’s edition, the final instalment, features john osborn, whose run to the gold medal in the british catamaran wasn’t even remotely as dramatic as a race to save his life in the very same harbour in portsmouth.
share story
