LIPTON’S LAST HURRAH AND THE FIRST OF THE J-CLASS

After six years of striving, he returned home to Glasgow to work in his father’s grocery store and at the age of 21 in 1871, invested his modest savings into transforming the family business. With strict financial discipline and a keen marketing eye, Lipton was a retailing sensation and within a decade he had expanded to 20 branded stores and by the late 1880’s this had mushroomed to over 200 stores. A millionaire at 40, Lipton had it all, but it was tea that made him a global household name and afforded him riches beyond belief and his ability to challenge for the America’s Cup.

The burgeoning tea industry at the time was controlled by jobbing middlemen operating out of Mincing Lane in the City of London, now the heart of the financial district, with brokers charging 50 cents per pound – putting tea far out of the reach of the ordinary man. Several had begged him to stock tea in his stores but Lipton sought his own supply, determined to slash costs to 30 cents per pound and thus make the beverage available for all. By the mid 1890’s Lipton was operating five enormous tea plantations as sales exploded and by the early 1900’s his empire had grown further to encompass both North American and European stockyards, factories and processing depots. It is documented that his wealth was so vast that ‘he simply couldn’t count it or account for it’ and the Lipton Company that had gone public in 1897, was one of the most valuable companies on earth.

After four challenges for the America’s Cup, with the last in 1920 being the closest of regattas as Shamrock IV stood just one victory away from wrestling the trophy from the New York Yacht Club, Lipton had become understandably deflated. His belief was that the rules were unfairly skewed towards the defender, with the challenger forced to build more seaworthy and thus heavier built vessels to make the Atlantic crossing, and his desire to see a new class of boats that offered fairer racing was a constant theme in communications with officers of the venerable club. Having initially fallen on deaf ears, finally change was afoot.

Lipton mooted a challenge in 1922 that stalled over design and then a link-up with the Earl of Dunraven in 1926 was also considered but again failed to materialise. Business interests dogged the mid-1920’s as the fellow directors of Lipton’s business, responding to shareholder demand for a greater return on equity and the acquisition of 25% of the firm by the Van den Bergh’s (now Unilever), forced the founder to accept a demotion, alongside a $4 million stipend, and by 1926, the now Sir Thomas Lipton, was installed as a figurehead of the business under the title of ‘Life President and Chairman.’ With more time on his hands, the restless tea baron who once said that he was “never happier...than when in the atmosphere of ships, sailors, boats and the waterside generally,” started to agitate towards the America’s Cup once again.

By late 1928, Sir Thomas Lipton, now a long-term resident of America, felt that the tide was shifting in his favour in relation to his demand for a new class for the America’s Cup and that the New York Yacht Club committee was sufficiently compliant, having not staged a defence since 1920, for a new challenge. On May 3rd, 1929, Lipton engaged once again the services of the Royal Ulster Yacht Club and issued a challenge for a: “Rig Cutter, 77 feet length on load waterline,” and also stipulated that: “races should be held over the old courses at Sandy Hook as previously.”

Whilst the NYYC was now in agreement with the class of the boat being the J-Class which would rate at a maximum of 76 feet under The Universal Rule now adopted by the club, there was one significant change that it wanted to make that would alter the course of the America’s Cup for the next half a century – namely a move to Newport, Rhode Island for the races. This was not a new suggestion, in fact it was first proposed to Lipton in 1914, but with New York Harbour now becoming a very busy waterway it was deemed that fairer racing could ensue up the coast that would adhere more fully to the Deed of Gift stipulation for: “ocean courses free from headlands.” The Royal Ulster Yacht Club finally acceded to this request in a telegram on June 17th, 1929, that further reiterated that racing should commence on Saturday 13th September 1930.

With the introduction of the J-Class, the format of the racing would also need to change. By adopting the regulations of the new class under the mutual consent clause, albeit with huge scope for differences in design, Lipton sought to level the playing field. The boats, in order to conform to the rule, would have to be built to Lloyd’s of London scantlings, effectively to standard dimensions for parts of the structure which would, in Lipton’s opinion, equalise the final designs and could therefore usher in non-handicap racing and single-gun starting procedures as was now commonplace on both sides of the Atlantic. The format of the modern-day America’s Cup, it could be argued, started therefore in 1930.

However, America in the late 1920’s was a deteriorating economic scene with the stock market crash of 1929 heralding the start of the Great Depression that was to last until 1941. There were money-supply issues, banking collapses, the collapse of world trade due to the Smoot-Hawley tariff and a litany of government policy failures. Hardly the backdrop desired for what was still seen as an upper-class pursuit, in America’s Cup racing, but almost without thought, the New York Yacht Club members threw everything at the regatta. Four boats were built specifically for the defence trials – the Weetamoe, Yankee, Whirlwind and the Herreshoff built Enterprise. It was a mighty demonstration of just how much the Cup had come to mean for the New York Yacht Club and swung the pendulum firmly in the favour of a successful defence.

Vice Commodore of the NYYC, Winthrop Aldrich, led the Enterprise campaign and appointed Harold Starling Vanderbilt, great-grandson of Cornelius Vanderbilt, the shipping and railroad tycoon, as skipper. It is recorded that: ‘As a boy, Harold ‘Mike’ Vanderbilt spent part of his summers at the Vanderbilt mansions—the Idle Hour estate in Long Island, New York, on the banks of the Connetquot River; Marble House at Newport Rhode Island and later at Belcourt, the Newport mansion of his stepfather, Oliver Belmont. As an adult, he pursued his interest in yachting, winning six King’s Cups and five Astor Cups.” Vanderbilt was the opposite of the self-made fortune of Lipton, having joined the centrepiece of the Vanderbilt empire, the New York Central Railroad Company, after graduating from Harvard Law School and by 1920, after the death of his father, inherited vast commercial interest and estates. Sailing was a hobby for Vanderbilt but the America’s Cup in the J-Class became a passion and he was to compete, successfully, throughout the era.

William Starling Burgess, the superstar designer of the day was commissioned to draw the lines for Enterprise and with a substantial budget, the Herreshoff yard at Bristol, Rhode Island operated at full capacity to build the most advanced and technically challenging boat ever undertaken. In usual times, the yard would employ just one pattern maker for the specialist metal castings for the hulls and rig – in 1929, Herreshoff employed six. It was a money-no-object project with the defence of the America’s Cup at stake.

The four American J-Class yachts for the defence were launched in the spring of 1930 having each been built under a significant veil of secrecy. American designers at the time were extremely wary of designs and ideas being copied by the British (or other challengers) and at launch the disparity in design was apparent. The L. Francis Herreshoff designed ‘Whirlwind’ measured in the longest at 127.11 feet overall, whilst the smallest, the Enterprise, measured at 120.9 feet. Enterprise carried the largest sail area in compensation at 7,583 square feet whilst both Whirlwind and Yankee carried 7500 square feet with Weetamoe at 7,568. All was set for a thrilling trial series that summer as the four boats worked through a myriad of upgrades and enhancements to secure the defence slot.

Over in Gosport, just opposite Portsmouth, at the Camper & Nicholson yard, Charles Nicholson’s latest design for Lipton, Shamrock V, was taking shape. She was of composite construction with an elm keel, teak was used in the stem, sternpost and counter timbers, the planking and rudder blade were each fashioned from mahogany whilst the decks were finished in white pine. She was launched on April 14th, 1930, and named, as was custom with Lipton, by Lady Shaftsbury, before heading to the East Coast of England, to Harwich, for trial races against four of the finest ‘big class’ yachts of the English fleet. Shamrock V was almost untouchable, winning races by margins of up to 10 minutes and Lipton felt that, at last, he had his best shot of securing the America’s Cup – a lifetime’s ambition.

But over in America, technology was advancing fast. Vanderbilt, ever the pioneer and innovator, recognising that gybes were too slow with a single spinnaker pole, started to carry two on Enterprise, meanwhile Starling Burgess’s brother, Charles Burgess, was pioneering the Duralumin mast that was a third lighter than the hollowed wood of the Shamrock V, and set on the mast was the first ever ‘Park Avenue’ boom - a huge innovation at the time that changed the mainsail profile forevermore.

Furthermore, Enterprise was drilling its crew, assigning numbers to every team member on the back of their uniform and accurately documenting the precise footprint of each crewmember and their role during every manoeuvre. Enterprise also faced the stiffest competition ultimately with the Clinton Crane designed Weetamoe with George Nichols at the wheel over 27 races that summer with Vanderbilt winning 14 to Nichols 12. The Cup committee, despite scepticism over some of the advances being showcased by Vanderbilt, met on the Commodore Vincent Astor’s yacht ‘Nourmahal’ on the 27th August 1930, at the conclusion of the trials, and appointed Enterprise as the defender to represent the New York Yacht Club.

Shamrock V had arrived at Newport to something of a hero’s welcome such was the popularity of Lipton in America. Ship’s horns sounded, yachts were dressed overall, and gun salutes rang out in his honour, but it was an overcast day on Saturday 13th September 1930 that greeted Shamrock V and Enterprise for the first race for the America’s Cup.

An hour’s postponement as the wind shifted from a light southerly to 10 knots from the north meant that the windward/leeward course became a running start and as the warning signal was fired, both boats were still in the throes of launching their mainsails. At the start, Enterprise held the lead by a boatlength, and on the fetch to the first mark she continued to stretch further into the lead. However, the spectator fleet, that was significant, caused Enterprise to alter course onto a dead-run and with Shamrock V’s larger sail area, she was able to close to just a length.

Once the spectator fleet had been moved by the marshalling boats, Enterprise was able to steer for the mark, back on a fetch, and by the first turn was almost two minutes ahead. With the wind shifting back south, albeit slowly, the final run to the finish turned into a fetch as Shamrock V elected to sail high above the direct course to the finish line, anticipating the wind clocking even more. It was a decent bet but one that Enterprise covered sensibly, keeping between the challenger and the finish line although by the very end, with the wind forward, a couple of short hitches were required by Enterprise to make the line, whilst Shamrock V sailed through without tacking. 1-0 to the Americans with an eventual winning margin of 2 minutes and 52 seconds.

After the first race, Charles Nicholson ordered the removal of a ton of internal ballast from Shamrock V in a determined effort to capitalise on what the designer thought should be a much faster boat off the wind. That Enterprise had held and extended in what was essentially an off the wind race was of concern, but Monday 15th September 1930 saw the start of a triangular course with a dead beat to windward that showed the massive discrepancy between the two yachts.

Enterprise was in a different league with superior boat handling, acceleration through the tacks and a more efficient sail plan working beautifully off the Duralumin mast and ‘Park Avenue’ boom. She led off the start and by the top mark, Enterprise was 5 minutes 58 seconds ahead. The challenger then lost another 3 minutes and 5 seconds on the reach to the wing mark through sail handling inefficiency whilst the American crew work was first class. By the finish, the margin was 9 minutes 34 seconds, and the writing was on the wall for the Challenger with one crew-member writing in his log: “Everybody losing heart in the Shamrock V can see now that we are out on a hopeless task, too big, and odds against us.”

Two days later, on Wednesday 12th September 1930, the yachts came back to meet each other in a 12 knot south-westerly and heavy swell that sorely tested the challenger in the face of a better crew sailing unarguably a better boat, more suited to the conditions. Enterprise’s novel rig that had been thoroughly tested over that summer sailing some 2000 miles and 254 hours on the water, came into play magnificently allowing the Americans to sail harder and closer to the wind with higher rig and forestay tension than the plucky Irish. The only chance that Shamrock V had was to try and outsail her opponent but even after a stellar start that saw them to windward and ahead, it was a short order before Enterprise could extricate herself, tack away to port and by the returning starboard leg had gained the advantage, forcing the challenger to tack away. Forty-four minutes into the contest however, Shamrock V’s main halyard snapped bringing the sail down the mast and disabling her. Enterprise sailed on around the course to: “cross the line alone,” as was recorded by the appointed film crew. It was 3-0 to the Americans in a best of seven and there was no coming back for Sir Thomas Lipton.

What proved to be the final race of the series was sailed on Thursday 18th September 1930 with a steady 12 to 14 knots of breeze for the triangular course south of the Brenton Reef Lighthouse. Vanderbilt was determined to capitalise on his advantage and to swiftly secure the America’s Cup and from the start, the Enterprise’s crew-work was so on-the-button that Shamrock V’s representative aboard the Enterprise was moved to write: “Shamrock V has lost the race before she start!” With a swell still running, Enterprise was again no match for the challenger, powering away to lead at the top mark by 9 minutes and 10 seconds which gave her enough of a buffer to defend the expected better reaching speed of Shamrock V over the next two fetches. By the finish, Lipton’s challenger had closed to within 5 minutes and 44 seconds, but the victory gun went to the Americans and the chapter on the Lipton era drew to a close with yet another defeat.

At the finish, Lipton was aboard the Erin and was captured smiling, something that endeared him to all of American society for they recognised in him a spirit of competition but graceful in defeat. Indeed, at a later reception he was presented with a solid gold ‘loving cup’ by the Mayor of New York accompanied by a donors’ book in which the mayor had written: “Sir Thomas Lipton: possibly the world's worst yacht builder but absolutely the world's most cheerful loser.” For Lipton the America’s Cup, he said, had brought him: “joy, health and splendid friends” and kept him “young, eager, buoyant and hopeful.” In the year of his death, 1931, he was finally elected as a member of the Royal Yacht Squadron and a further challenge was rumoured with Charles Nicholson again being commissioned to design what would likely to have become Shamrock VI. It never materialised.

Whilst planning for his sixth attempt, Sir Thomas Lipton died peacefully in his sleep at his home in Osidge on the 2nd October 1931. He was buried beside his beloved mother and father in the Southern Necropolis cemetery in the Gorbals district of southern Glasgow. He died a bachelor, with his fortune left to benefit the poor of his native city through the Francis Lipton Memorial Fund and his yachting trophies left to the city. They are housed to this day at the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum.

Would we see his likes again in the America’s Cup?