Stand By to Repel Raiders

By Tom Callahan

The U.S. again sails out to defend the America's Cup

It is now June of the third year, and millionaires once again are at play on the high seas off Newport, R.I., a harbor town that smells strongly of salt water and money, the yachtsman's favorite aromas. Seven small navies have arrived from five stubborn countries, the largest assault force in 132 years, and are fighting it out among themselves for the right to challenge for the America's Cup, a symbol of U.S. ingenuity, or treachery, or both, that is bolted snugly, smugly, or both, to a heavy oak slab in the West 44th Street rumpus room of the New York Yacht Club.

The trophy, a pitcher homelier than Warren Spahn, was captured by Commodore John Cox Stevens' schooner America for blitzing 15 British boats in a race around the Isle of Wight promoting London's Great Exhibition of 1851. The N.Y.Y.C. insisted that the first challengers sail in solitude against a fleet of defenders and, in the interest of good seaworthy construction, travel to the site on their own bottoms. From 1870 until 1930, the race was set in Lower New York Bay, around Sandy Hook, where local knowledge was crucial. Though the visitors' hardships have gradually, very gradually, lessened through the years, the America's Cup still stands alone as the paragon of all home-course advantages. In 24 competitions, held every three years since 1974, the U.S. has never come close to losing the trophy.

This year the rule restricting the challengers to materials obtainable and technology available in their own countries has been rescinded, which may have helped bring about the record turnout of foreign entries: three Australian, one French, one Canadian, one Italian and one English. "The more the scarier," frets Commodore Henry H. Anderson Jr. of the N.Y.Y.C.'S Cup Committee. Not that a realistic chance of victory has ever been central to the quest.

Baron Marcel Bich, 68, the ballpoint pen and pantyhose tycoon from France, who spent $10 million over the past four campaigns, has given up at last. In Newport, where the race has been conducted since 1930, Baron Bich is remembered fondly for his distinctive white costumes and for the day he sailed off in the wrong direction at the starting line and disappeared into a fog bank. Now the old Frenchman's craft, France 3, belongs to Moviemaker Yves Rousset-Rouard, who has her back in Newport for another try. The hardiest dreamer left is Alan Bond, 45, an Australian entrepreneur from Perth, whose fourth adventure this summer will bring his tab to $9 million. Bond's boats have garnered the honor of challenging for each of the past three America's Cup series. Again this summer, of the three Australian entries (Advance and Challenge 12 the others) that began round-robin trials last weekend, Bond's Australia II is favored to be the one to face the defender in the best-of-seven series commencing Sept. 13. Australia II is a vessel of intrigue: her secret keel is shrouded when she is lifted out of the water.

These are twelve-meter yachts, called simply twelves, a reference not to their length of 65 ft. or so but to the quotient of a complicated formula involving water line, sail area and displacement. Auto racers tune their engines no more fastidiously than boat architects tweak their designs. Discretion is usually the rule. The captain of the British syndicate--like the love life of a horse, an America's Cup boat is never the property of an individual, always a syndicate--is a multimillionaire financier by the name of Peter de Savary. In the corridors of the N.Y.Y.C., De Savary has been pronounced "unsavory" since the club learned that he videotaped the practice sessions of the leading U.S. skippers last summer.

Californians Dennis Conner, 40, a computerized competitor, and Tom Blackaller, 43, a lighthearted sailor, are old and dedicated rivals. In paramilitary command of Freedom, Conner defended the Cup so scientifically and staunchly in 1980 (43-4 in races against other defenders, 4-1 over Australia for the series) that his professionalism has been charged with killing fun and games. Outrageous Captain Courageous Ted Turner, who let ordinary people into the sport in 1977, says, "It knocks out of the competition forever anyone who's not prepared to give up three years of his life." Says Blackaller of Conner: "I think the type of person who practices that much and thinks it's fun is a very boring person."

Conner, who owns a drapery business in San Diego, works not only his crew like galley slaves but his shipbuilders too. Desiring a twelve even swifter than Freedom, Conner ordered three new $1 million boats after 1980, discarding Magic and Spirit before embracing Liberty. Weighing the virtues of Freedom and Liberty right up until the deadline last week, Conner finally chose the new boat. Besides Liberty and Blackaller's Defender, Turner's old friend Courageous will head out again, skippered by John Kolius.

All summer long the challengers and defenders will race separately until, some time before Sept. 8, both sides will have picked their representatives. Tourists in Newport will not see much of this, or in many cases, even look for it. On the spectator craft flanking the triangular 24.3-mile course, good binoculars are necessary just to tell one boat from the other. Back in town, a lot of broiling people in madras shorts and Top-Siders will drink large quantities of beer, and toast being at the scene of an international occasion. Nobody is quite sure what is going on--something splendid.

--By Tom Callahan This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.