Al Ulbrickson—George Pocock

Al Ulbrickson—George Pocock was a working partnership at the center of Washington rowing: Ulbrickson made the coaching decisions, while Pocock supplied technical knowledge, long experience, and a keen understanding of what happened inside a crew. Their relationship moved between private conversations about the sport and direct intervention on the water. As the prospect of Berlin raised the stakes, Ulbrickson relied on Pocock not merely to build boats but to help him read his rowers and shape a boat that could function as a whole.

A partnership formed around Washington rowing

The relationship belonged to a larger history of western crews seeking standing in a sport long dominated by eastern institutions. In the 1920s and 1930s, collegiate rowing drew major press coverage and large crowds; elite eastern schools modeled the sport on British institutions such as Eton College, and their oarsmen flowed into universities including Harvard, Yale, and Princeton. Meanwhile, the University of Washington and the University of California, Berkeley, had developed a heated rivalry and begun to challenge eastern crews, but western programs had less money and recognition. Their annual regattas drew tens of thousands, even as the national center of collegiate rowing remained east.

Washington’s earlier trips to the Intercollegiate Rowing Association regatta at Poughkeepsie show the pressure behind that effort. When Hiram Conibear first brought a Washington varsity crew east in 1913, the team finished third, surprising eastern observers. Washington’s narrow 1923 victory over Navy later established the West’s first IRA win. Those results made competitive knowledge and effective equipment consequential resources. Pocock’s connection to the program was already established: Washington coaches had been learning from him since 1913, whether about boat design, race sequencing, or the mental workings of an oarsman.

Counsel beyond the boathouse

As the Olympic campaign approached, Ulbrickson identified Pocock as one of the resources he would need to use better. The season demanded difficult choices: Ulbrickson would have to select among talented rowers, contend with rival coach Ky Ebright, and find money in a lean year. A prospective Olympic crew also needed more than strength. Its nine members would have to row reliably in varied conditions, withstand pressure, and live and travel together without internal friction. Pocock’s experience made him a trusted interlocutor in that larger problem.

Their conversations often began over dinner at one couple’s home or the other’s and continued for hours. They discussed boat design and rigging, argued over racing strategy, revisited victories and defeats, and assessed the strengths and weaknesses of crews and coaches. For the usually reticent Ulbrickson, these evenings offered a chance to confide, joke about shell-house events, and talk rowing at length. Pocock could contribute both practical instruction and broader perspective: an apt Shakespeare quotation, a better sequence for a race, or a way to understand an oarsman’s mind. In the Olympic year, their attention turned inevitably to the boys from whom Ulbrickson had to make a crew.

Pocock and the problem of Joe Rantz

At some point that fall, Ulbrickson asked Pocock to look at Joe Rantz. Tom Bolles had earlier described Rantz as touchy and uneven: at times fluid and powerful, at others poor. Ulbrickson had tried scolding, encouragement, demotion, and promotion without resolving the mystery. Rather than treat the inconsistency as a simple matter of effort, he asked Pocock to talk with Rantz, understand him, and, if possible, help him. The request reveals the distinctive division of their work: Ulbrickson controlled selection and training, but he trusted Pocock to reach a rower in a way that coaching adjustments alone had not.

Pocock’s approach combined technical observation with a diagnosis of how Rantz related to his crew. He noticed that Rantz bent his arms too early and could improve his catch by keeping his hands moving at the speed of the water under the boat. But Pocock considered the deeper issue more important: Rantz sometimes rowed as though he alone had to carry the boat across the finish line. That solitary effort made him attack the water rather than work with it, and kept the crew from helping him row. The advice connected individual technique to the collective demands of the boat, the same problem Ulbrickson faced in assembling a crew capable of rowing together.

The lesson on the water

The partnership became visible during a gray February practice when Ulbrickson, frustrated by the problems in boat number one, noticed Pocock sculling alone across the lake. He stopped the shell, watched Pocock move fluidly through the light mist, and called him over. Ulbrickson asked him to explain what the coach was trying to teach and what the program sought to accomplish. Pocock circled the shell slowly, spoke softly to each boy, and departed; the exchange lasted no more than three minutes.

When Ulbrickson ordered the crew to row again, its movement changed at once: the boys pulled the shell ahead with sharper catches and cleaner rowing. The scene made their partnership legible in action. Ulbrickson recognized when his own instructions were not reaching the crew and invited Pocock to translate the desired result through his presence and words. From then on, Pocock rode in the coaching launch on most days, bundled in an overcoat and scarf, with a fedora over his ears. He took notes and pointed things out to Ulbrickson, making the collaboration a continuing part of practice rather than a single intervention.

A shared method under pressure

Their cooperation mattered because the boats remained unsettled. Washington had exceptional talent, but the nominal first boat could not hold its swing: it might find its rhythm, lose it, and recover it several times in one race, while its catching was the weakest among the top three boats. Other lineups sometimes outperformed it. Ulbrickson was still trying to distinguish good from great and to determine which crew might represent Washington in Berlin. Pocock’s regular presence gave the coach another experienced observer as he weighed those comparisons.

The relationship joined different forms of authority without collapsing them into one. Ulbrickson had to choose the crew, manage competition, and set the training course; Pocock brought boatbuilding knowledge, a long familiarity with Washington rowers, and the ability to connect bodily technique with cooperation among teammates. Their evening discussions, the appeal for help with Rantz, and Pocock’s work from the launch all show the same pattern: Ulbrickson did not surrender the coaching task, but repeatedly made room for Pocock’s judgment. Their partnership therefore addressed both the material boat and the human coordination required to move it, a combination made especially important by the demands of the Olympic campaign.