The 1936 U.S. Olympic rowing trials decided which American eight-oared crew would compete in Berlin, and turned Washington’s Olympic ambition into a victory achieved through disciplined pacing, recovery, and collective timing. At Princeton’s Lake Carnegie, the Washington crew won its qualifying heat and then the final, overcoming California’s reputation as the stronger sprinting boat and a disastrous opening few strokes. The triumph sent the Huskies to the Olympics—and exposed how precarious their opportunity remained when officials required them to find their own travel money.

Background and Stakes

In the 1920s and 1930s, collegiate rowing drew national press and large crowds, but its institutional center remained in the East. The University of Washington and the University of California, Berkeley, had built a fierce western rivalry and attracted tens of thousands to their annual dual regattas, yet western crews had fewer resources and little access to recruitment or wealthy patrons. Their appearances at the eastern Intercollegiate Rowing Association regatta in Poughkeepsie could be costly and brought a mixture of curiosity and condescension. Washington’s 1923 victory there had challenged assumptions about western crews, but the wider prestige of eastern rowing endured.

The Olympic trials brought six crews to Princeton: Washington, California, Pennsylvania, Navy, Princeton, and the New York Athletic Club. Three-boat preliminary heats were scheduled for July 4, with the first two boats in each advancing to a four-boat final the following day. Washington faced another disadvantage beyond the sprinting strengths of its rivals: it was the only crew composed entirely of undergraduates. Pennsylvania had added three recent graduates, Navy had installed a Marine Corps officer as coxswain, and California had also brought recent alumni into its boat. The Washington rowers therefore had to qualify against familiar crews while anticipating opponents whose lineups had changed.

The stakes unsettled the team on the night before the preliminary races. In the damp heat, Al Ulbrickson moved from room to room trying to calm the boys; Joe Rantz and Roger Morris stayed awake joking and telling stories, while Chuck Day took furtive drags on a forbidden cigarette. Their immediate opponents seemed manageable. The anxiety lay in the final, where they might have to face crews strengthened by older, less familiar rowers.

The Preliminary Heats

On the Fourth of July, the Washington crew backed the Husky Clipper into its starting position before several thousand spectators. The boat broke quickly from the line at a rate of thirty-eight strokes per minute. After about a minute, Bobby Moch directed Don Hume to lower the rate to thirty-four; in the third minute Hume brought it down to thirty-two. The boat nevertheless held the lead and extended it. When the New York Athletic Club’s Winged Footers sprinted past Princeton and began to challenge, Moch had Hume raise the pace to thirty-eight. Washington finished two and a half lengths ahead of the Winged Footers.

The comfortable margin did not resolve the larger question. Washington’s boys watched California’s heat against Navy and Pennsylvania from the bank. After the three crews contested the lead through the first thousand meters, Pennsylvania moved ahead; in the closing five hundred, California surged past both boats to win by a quarter of a length. California’s time was 6:07.8, compared with Washington’s 6:17.8. The result reinforced the belief among coaches and writers that California’s sprinting strength made it the superior crew over this distance. Washington had advanced, but the clock made the final appear daunting.

The Final at Lake Carnegie

The next day, around ten thousand people gathered in stifling heat to watch the four-boat final. The atmosphere was public and consequential: Royal Brougham was preparing to broadcast the race to fifty stations across the country, while coaches and spectators watched Al Ulbrickson’s team face its decisive test. As the boats prepared to start, a large white swan obstructed Washington’s path into its stall. Moch shouted through his megaphone and waved his arms until it moved aside. The rowers, bare-chested in their shell, settled themselves; Moch touched Tom Bolles’s lucky fedora beneath his seat.

Washington’s start then went badly. Four or five strokes into the race, Gordy Adam and Stub McMillin washed out, their oars leaving the water before their pulls were complete. The mistake upset the boat’s balance and checked the momentum the crew needed to build. The other three boats surged ahead. On the next stroke, however, all eight Washington oars caught cleanly together. The New York Athletic Club briefly led before Pennsylvania, rowing at forty strokes per minute, took control. California held third, about ten feet ahead of Washington.

Moch and Hume raised the rate to thirty-nine to regain momentum, then began reducing it: thirty-eight, thirty-seven, thirty-six, and thirty-five. Washington held close behind California as the faster crews continued to expend themselves. By roughly a quarter of the course, the Huskies were gaining; Moch ordered the rate lower still, and Hume settled at thirty-four. At that pace, Hume on the port side and Rantz on starboard set long, fluid strokes that the other six followed in unison. From shore, the crew and the Husky Clipper appeared to move as one: the blades entered and lifted together, and the shell advanced without an evident break in its motion.

Just before the fifteen-hundred-meter mark, Moch announced the move against California and Hume raised the rate to thirty-six. Washington passed California seat by seat and began closing on Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania’s stroke man pushed his crew to forty-one, but its increasingly frequent strokes shortened; Washington’s blades left longer spaces between their puddles. The boats drew level. Moch had not yet called for the final sprint. Inside the last five hundred meters he finally ordered Hume to accelerate, and the rate climbed first to thirty-nine and then forty. The bows contested the lead for several strokes before Washington edged ahead. With four hundred meters remaining, the Huskies passed the exhausted Pennsylvania crew and continued to widen their margin. They crossed the finish a full length in front.

Victory and Its Immediate Consequences

Pennsylvania finished second, California third, and the New York Athletic Club trailed Washington by three and three-quarter lengths, with half its crew collapsed over its oars in the heat. Moch stood upright in the narrow shell and raised a fist. The crew returned to the shell house, tossed him into the water, and posed with the silver cup for newsreel photographers. The victory settled the sporting question: Washington had secured its place in Berlin despite the poor start, the fast rivals, and the apparent advantage California had shown in the preliminary heat.

The result was immediately shared far beyond Princeton. Across Washington State, in mill towns, dairy country, Seattle homes, and the Montlake shell house, people cheered and sent congratulations east. The crew’s success meant that Seattle would appear on the world stage at the Olympics. At Harry Rantz’s unfinished Lake Washington home, Joyce and the children listened by radio. Harry, who had said nothing during the broadcast, found a large American flag and hung it above the radio. Joyce was glad for Joe, though she understood that qualifying meant he would not be home until the end of summer.

The celebration soon encountered a financial barrier. At the Loyal Shoudy banquet that night, the customary purple neckties and five-dollar bills awaited the boys, while rumors circulated that the winning crew might not be sent to Berlin. Henry Penn Burke, chairman of the U.S. Olympic Rowing Committee, told Washington’s representatives that the boys would have to pay their own way or Pennsylvania could take their place. The American Olympic Committee lacked funds for multiple teams, but Washington had not previously been told that its Olympic passage was uncertain. The demand was especially severe because these were working-class rowers who could not finance the journey themselves.

Seattle mounted a rapid fundraising campaign. Contributions came from businesses, small donors, and the rowers’ hometowns: Sequim sent $75 for Rantz, Olympia sent $299.25 for Hume, and Montesano and Bellingham each sent $50 for Moch and Gordy Adam. Volunteers sold $1,523 worth of fifty-cent tags on the first day; by the second, the campaign had secured a certified $5,000 check for Ulbrickson. The trials had earned Washington the right to represent the United States, but the money drive revealed that athletic qualification alone could not guarantee access to the Olympic Games.