Washington varsity narrowly defeats California varsity (1935)

Washington varsity narrowly defeats California varsity (1935) was a decisive race at the Pacific Coast Regatta on the Oakland Estuary: Washington’s sophomore varsity beat California by six feet after a late, furious contest whose result was briefly obscured by the angle of the finish-line bridge. The victory depended not on matching California’s frantic stroke rate, but on preserving power until the closing strokes. It also mattered beyond the finish: with Washington’s junior varsity already victorious, the sophomores’ win made the sweep of California’s home-water races a declaration of Washington’s strength and kept the crew’s Olympic aspirations alive.

A West Coast contest with national stakes

Collegiate rowing had a large public following in the 1920s and 1930s. Major races attracted crowds and extensive press coverage, while outstanding oarsmen could become national sporting figures. Yet the sport’s institutional center remained in the East, where colleges such as Harvard, Yale, and Princeton were part of an established rowing tradition. The annual Intercollegiate Rowing Association regatta at Poughkeepsie was a major national event, but western crews faced the cost of transporting their boats and rowers east and, when they did compete, often met condescension as well as curiosity.

The University of Washington and the University of California, Berkeley had been rivals since 1903. Their April regattas drew students, alumni, and local spectators, but western programs had fewer resources than their eastern counterparts: their coaches were paid less, they had little money for recruitment, and they lacked wealthy patrons. The question of regional standing was therefore bound up with more than race results. Royal Brougham believed that a nationally prominent rowing program could bring respect to Seattle, while recognizing that California might become the West Coast’s leading crew power instead.

By the 1935 contest, Washington’s immediate stakes were stark. The junior varsity had just won, intensifying the pressure on the sophomore varsity to justify Al Ulbrickson’s confidence and keep its Olympic ambitions alive. The crew believed it had to win every race from then on. That burden shaped the sixteen-minute contest: a narrow lead could not be treated as safety, and a deficit could not be allowed to dictate a panicked response.

The race and the change in momentum

Neither boat made a fully prepared start. Once the crews were away, Washington surged ahead, but California raised its rate, pulled even, and moved into a lead of half a length. For the next mile and a half the crews held close positions, their blades entering and leaving the water almost stroke for stroke at roughly thirty strokes per minute. The early exchange established the contest’s pattern: California could answer a move quickly, while Washington had to keep its effort measured enough to last.

Near Government Island, California increased its rate and extended its advantage to a full length. George Morry, Washington’s coxswain, called for more, bringing his crew up to thirty-two strokes per minute, but did not drive them into an immediate sprint. California climbed to thirty-four and a half. Washington instead began to recover ground through power, gaining inch by inch while holding back its rate. By the island’s south end, the margin had shrunk to a quarter of a length; the boats then came bow to bow. As they approached the course bend, Washington nosed ahead, rowing at thirty-four while California rose to thirty-eight.

The crews rounded the bend side by side as an armada of launches and pleasure craft followed them toward the bridge. California made the next decisive-looking move, accelerating to forty strokes per minute and regaining a quarter-length lead. Its supporters cheered as the boat charged toward the finish. Morry, however, followed Ulbrickson’s instruction to keep the rate as low as possible for as long as possible. He believed Washington still had power in reserve and that California, after sustaining its frantic pace, probably did not. Rather than answer rate with rate, he called, “Gimme ten big ones!”

Washington’s hard strokes brought the bows level again. With the bridge and finish closing in, Morry called, “Gimme ten more!” Joe Rantz, George “Shorty” Hunt, Roger Morris, and the other Washington rowers threw their remaining effort into the final pulls. The boats passed under the bridge side by side, with Ulbrickson watching from the coaching launch immediately behind them.

A finish hidden by the bridge

The first signals seemed to deepen the uncertainty rather than settle it. A blue flag and a white flag dropped at once, and someone in a following boat shouted, “Washington by a foot!” The loudspeaker then announced, “California by two feet.” Radio broadcasters relayed California’s apparent victory, and the news spread over the wires. Washington supporters on the bridge insisted their boat had surged ahead; California supporters argued that their bow had passed beneath the bridge first.

The official decision, announced after a delay, was Washington by six feet. The apparent contradiction came from the course geometry, not from a reversal in the judges’ view of the result. The bridge crossed the estuary at an angle: the finish line met it near the California side but several yards short of it on Washington’s side. California’s bow passed beneath the bridge first, but Washington’s boat had already crossed the actual finish line. The sightline that had made the California claim seem persuasive had confused the bridge with the line that determined the race.

Consequences and significance

The ruling transformed a finish that had seemed to give California the victory into a Washington win by six feet. It confirmed the importance of distinguishing visible spectacle from the race’s governing measure: the boats were judged at the finish line, not by which reached the angled bridge first. The last twenty strokes also made the crew’s tactical choice tangible. Washington had allowed California to spend itself at a higher rate, then answered with force when the remaining distance made that reserve decisive.

The result completed a strong day for Washington on California’s home water. The train ride home was jubilant; the difficult feelings of the preceding fall and winter receded, and the sophomores could claim the Pacific Coast varsity championship. Tom Bolles came away believing that his freshman crew was at least equal to the previous year’s, while the junior varsity had made its point for the moment. The victory did not erase the broader imbalance between western programs and the better-resourced eastern rowing establishment. It did, however, give Washington a concrete answer to the question of whether it could prevail against California, and a reason to believe that more might now be possible.