Four Years from Olympus

Thin shadow's slanted across the late afternoon, streaking the slate-grey waters of the Severn. On the Annapolis shore, spectators took a long second look at the river. Was the haze-dimmed sun playing tricks, or was that an extra shell rowing out to the starting line for the annual Navy-Princeton varsity crew race? To sharp eyes, five interlocked circles, the Olympic insigne. stenciled on the shell's bow. explained the interloper's presence. The "Admirals." Navy's 1952 champions, were back in competition, tuning up to try for a second Olympic title.

Officially, the Olympians were not even in the race. On the record books, wher ever they finished, they would not "win." But in two months of advance practice, they bent to their sweeps with the same determination that won 29 straight victories for the Navy--including the Olympics--before the last of the Olympians earned their commissions and spread out into various odd channels (five are in the U.S. Air Force) from Biloxi to Hong Kong. Together again, the Admirals were working out an answer to a tough question: Could they recollect their old skill and stamina in time?

Worried over Wives. Four years away from the heady 1952 Olympic triumph at Meilahti Gulf, Finland, the fine rhythm and rugged power of champions were not easy to rebuild. On a previous try, the Naval Academy failed: the 1920 Olympic crew was reassembled from stations in the fleet and put into training for the 1924 games, but lost to Yale by 5 ft. in the Olympic trials. In trying to beat all others for a second Olympic try. the 1952 winners are well aware of the difficulties ahead. Soft life in wardrooms, officers' clubs and pilots' seats larded them lightly with unnecessary ballast before orders brought them back to Annapolis. Of the 18 officer oarsmen (a second-string boatload also got orders to crew duty), nine had married, and five were already fathers: the old days of monastic concentration on the job at hand were gone for good. Hands had gone soft. Even after bathing them in alcohol and alum, some of the crewmen could not be sure their palms would stand the wear.

For Coach Rusty Callow, the main problem of a comeback for his aging world-beaters was a bit more esoteric: how to keep ever-present wives from heckling their husbands. But Rusty's fears were groundless. The women have proved willing to let their men eat at training table instead of at home.

Weighted for Hope. When they pulled away from the stake boats on the Severn for their first competitive trial last week, for a few breathtaking moments the Admirals seemed to have found their old skill. Swinging into a high, 45-beat stroke, they slid into an early lead. But stamina was lacking; over the long pull, their wind was not equal to the job. They gasped through their finishing sprint, unable to stay with Princeton's well-conditioned undergraduates. They finished second by three lengths, but well ahead of Navy's own varsity. Coach Callow was far from disappointed. Said he: "The Admirals were terrific. They did better than I expected. When they lose that excess weight --well, we can hope, can't we?"

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