The concentration of rowing at the new campus on the Charles in Cambridge, while in itself a major improvement for Tech rowing, was not without trauma. Establishing a new campus is sure to be disruptive of routine and order. Leaving the School of Architecture and some activities on Boylston Street divided the campus. A raging war in Europe drew M.I.T. more and more into its engineering orbit leading to eventual participation in 1917 changed all priorities. Transportation of the Charter to the new Cambridge campus was accomplished via an elaborate replica Venetian Barge named Bucentaur to cross the Charles River, but it has not been determined whether any Tech oarsmen were involved in the propulsion.
But everything was propitious for crew to become a full fledged part of the Institute athletic program. A past, though short, history of participation, facing on home waters newly converted from tidal problems, a president openly advocating crew as a worthy sport and the expertise in both rowers and coaches coming to Tech from institutions with a longer rowing tradition. And, as if in answer to prayer, a ready made boathouse facility only a mile upstream available due to changing priorities of its owners.
The M.I.T., Boat Club was abolished, probably to get away from the "club" implication and the Technology Rowing Association organized. Race schedules were arranged, such as the "Technology Regatta", for competition in the elite class with Harvard and the less prestigious Tufts, Exeter and Middlesex Schools added to the entry made at Annapolis in 1911 made Tech ripe for recognition in the newspapers. The proximity of the BAA Boathouse and the ability of potential oarsmen to organize, get practice and form definite boatings brought interest to a higher level. But with World War I raging in Europe and the United States getting ever more involved, climaxed by our entry in 1917, rowing as an institute sport was to be confined to class crews and impromptu challenges. Financial demands of constructions of a new campus and institutional expansion coupled with the death of President Maclaurin directed the administration to things other than sports.
In 1918, Patrick (Pat) Manning, popular and experienced coach of the Cambridge Public School crews, joined with Arthur (Artie) Stevens in the coaching of Tech crews and also in the maintenance and improvement of rowing equipment, both that rented and purchased along with the BAA boathouse and borrowed from whatever source available. The arrival of Pat to the Tech rowing program was a most fortunate occasion that lasted for ---- years and any oarsman who rowed in that period could have only exemplary recollections of that wonderful person. On the other hand, Artie Stevens, an ex-Harvard oarsman with more interest than ability as a mentor of oarsmen, was suspect as a homosexual and held at a distance by those at the boathouse. Pat did most of his coaching at Tech from a projection in the embankment where he could observe and talk by megaphone to a crew as it approached and passed. Artie used a single shell to afford brief periods of close observation and also borrowed a slow speed motor launch which gave equally brief periods for coaching although he was not engaged in rowing himself at the time.
With classes in session on an accelerated wartime basis there was little opportunity for scheduled practice but interest was maintained and benefits afforded to the individual and the sport. The official Field Day and other events were canceled in 1917 and 1918 but a varsity crew, so called, did have a summer race in 1918, on salt water at the West Lynn Boat Club. Tech lost the race by decision after a collision close to the finish line.
With the end of World War I (at the time it would have been just the end of "The World War" which was to end all wars) plans to resume for normal peacetime activities. Winter training on the machines and running on the board track between Walker Memorial Gym and the Navy Hangar converted to a gym for track and other sports provided activity to ninety freshmen and returning upper classmen, which kept in crew the largest number of participants except for track. The Advisory Council for Athletics made crew a part of the Field Day scoring. Plans were made for resumption of Varsity races though emphasis was first on Freshmen and Class crews with races scheduled with the many academies such as Middlesex, Pomfret, Browne & Nichols, Brookline High, Huntington and others together with the Harvard freshmen. A boat house in front of the campus was a continuing controversy with the legal guardian of the Charles River, the Metropolitan District Commission, but the continuing development and use of the BAA boathouse, rowing at Tech was becoming well-established.
The acceptance of rowing as a major athletic activity at Tech was indicated by a growing list of races and competitors. They were mostly local colleges and prep-schools, but afforded a logical approach to experience and development rather than a stab here and there. The "T" with crossed oars was an added award in 1919 and first made to the manager of crew and later to oarsmen deserving Advisory Council recognition, together with the inclusion of crew in the Field Day scoring and class numeral awards. There were frequent informal races with any crews, especially Harvard, casually encountered on the river which whetted appetites for more formal encounters.
A second year of crew as a recognized sport found 175 oarsmen anxious to get on the river after ice-out in spite of there being only enough equipment for three competing crews when all was in condition for use at the same time. Pat Manning was the coach as well as the rigger and custodian of the BAA facility and had the use of a launch owned by the family of a freshman who was not one of the oarsmen. This situation was not accompanied by the traditional conditional approach of the one kid in a neighborhood owning a baseball,-- "you can use my ball if I can play". The varsity status was revived with races against Navy, Harvard, and Columbia and the 150's or lightweights starting their long tradition of competition with Yale.
A major leap was made in 1922 with the formal acquisition of the BAA boathouse by MIT though a fruitful concordance of events. Unable to make any headway with the Metropolitan Commission for a Pavilion, the Boston Athletic Association had a boathouse in which they had lost interest to other activities in downtown Boston, a member of both (Dr. Alan Winter Rowe '01) to act as an intermediary and the transfer was made without delay or problems. With the boathouse came an assortment of club type shells and oars, not in good condition but something to build from. Only eight could be utilized in college competition but the fours and wherrier (gigs) were useful for exercise and instruction. A shell was purchased from Harvard for $50 that had been abandoned there by a Cornell crew that did not consider it worth transporting back to Ithaca. Most competition was on the Charles and once a shell was borrowed from Harvard for a Tech- Harvard race. When racing away from home at Annapolis, Columbia or Syracuse shells were borrowed from the host college. Oars and riggers were used in unmatched sets and adjustment or repair was a constant requirement, both in the boathouse and on the water. Sliding seats were constantly jumping the rails or collapsing. Keeping the shells from leaking too badly added weight through extra layers of varnish, internal cedar patches and copper tack fastenings. The notoriously choppy Charles strained all working parts and created leakage that could be anticipated but not predicted as to location.
Equipment failure due to age and usage was endemic, but the Charles provided its complications. Water pollution through waste oil and sewage coated a hull quickly and had to be wiped or scraped off immediately after removal of the water regardless of the time of day or night before it had a chance to dry and harden. And with the river a convenient depository for debris of any sort, much of it wood floating waterlogged and almost ready to submerge could be unseen until contact was made with a fragile cedar shell. Fifty years of cleanup of the water and improvement of materials in rowing equipment surely made a lot of difference in safety and protection.
Relief was obtained in 1923 by the purchase of surplus equipment from more affluent source, consisting of seven second hand shells with oars. With this bounty shells could be assigned to crews and used without readjustment of stretchers and riggers to suit individual needs. It also permitted individual oarsmen to adjust or pad their own sliding seat, stretcher clogs or oar handle to suit individual needs. It also permitted individual oarsmen to adjust or pad their own sliding seat, stretcher clogs or oar handle to suit their own comfort or efficiency. Additional rowing machines, up to date hydraulic devices to supplant antique leather strap contraptions were installed on the newly enclosed porch so that individual oarsmen or crews could get both exercise and instruction when time permitted or was scheduled. The launch fleet was increased to two with the addition of the "Spirit" to the overworked "Wolf". Rowing was becoming a well organized and equipped athletic activity, functioning on a planned schedule rather than spontaneous whim. Crew became a group effort in which nine men for each shell, managers, coach, launch and driver, rigger and others all had to do their part at the same time or all was wasted effort.
Along with this bounty of equipment and the expectation of more experienced or capable manpower, Artie Stevens was back as coach assisted by Pat Manning as both coach and full time rigger. There was also coaching assistance from the faculty in Prof. Dellenback, an ex-Columbia oarsman and Lt. Harris, from the Navy who had rowed at Annapolis . But the backbone of supervision was the ever present Pat Manning as coach, advisor and confident to those whose had need of his exceptional insight and compassion. The boathouse, though a mile from the campus with no transportation available except by foot or personal vehicle, became a haven for oarsmen scheduled for practice or taking advantage of moments of relief from the rigors of class or dormitory life. Surprisingly, a bicycle was rarely seen on campus or travel to the boathouse or place of residence.
The racing schedules were growing in number and stature as M.I.T. was accepted by other rowing institutions as a worthy competitor and dates could be worked out. There were more students who gained what could be called rowing experience and eligibility rules were enforced. The newspapers, then the only news media, were giving recognition to Tech with good reviews and predictions of future success. But the pressures of study requirements, the inability to schedule practice for any group of oarsmen at the better times of daylight hours and the unavailability of an adequate pool of experienced oarsmen made rowing at Tech a challenge involving dedication and sacrifice.
The importance of interclass rowing competition, as a support element of all Tech crews, was enhanced in 1923 by the presentation of the Richards Cup by Prof. H. Richards of the Department of Geology, a graduate in the first M.I.T. class in 1868 who had himself rowed in a Union Boat Club crew and in England in his earlier years. Given in memory of his brother George H. Richards, this attractive trophy with its accompanying solid gold (in earlier years of its award) medals for each member of the winning crew, served in its own way as a stimulant to Tech rowing.
Another great boost to rowing at that time was the bringing to Tech in 1924 of its first trained professional coach, William (Bill) Haines, fresh from five successful years at Harvard (though not successful enough for that proud and ambitious rowing institution in that Yale was defeated in only three of those five years). Bill Haines had been a championship sculler and punter in his rowing years in England followed by coaching of club and college eights in England and the U.S. and was a true sportsman of great influence on his charges. Relations with the rowing element at Harvard remained at the highest level, however, through his nephew Bert Haines who was Freshman coach there for many years, interrupted several times by stretches as temporary Varsity coach when Harvard was in the process of finding a new head coach. He could have had the top job several times but preferred to be just Freshman coach where he could be assured of some permanence in a situation which he enjoyed.
With two to three hundred men signed up for rowing, several coaching assistants, cooperation from the Advisory Council for Athletics and other departments of the Institute, improvement of the boathouse facilities and rowing equipment, Tech was rapidly raising its position in the rowing world. The Naval Academy added to this by arranging its rowing schedule to accommodate Tech crews during spring vacation to live for a week with the midshipmen in their Bancroft Hall dormitory, eat in their dining hall with them, practice on the Severn twice a day and race them on Saturday. Though Navy won, Tech Varsity was to prevail over Cornell two weeks later for its first victory in a major race in a scheduled regatta. A great psychological boost came with the defeat of Harvard in a regatta though Pennsylvania was the winner over both. With that kind of success, it was possible to enter the 1924 Olympic Tryouts and spirits were high after winning a first heat, but dropped to third and elimination in a faster second heat. But the reputation and standing of M.I.T. crew was firmly established for the future.
Periodically, there come actions or events that qualify as notable "first", on of which cam e in 1925 with the arrival of an unchristened new shell. After years of borrowed, patched up discards or acquired surplus equipment this was of symbolic as well as physical importance to not only the varsity, who obviously have the first choice of its use but all other aspiring or supporting oarsmen. A gift from anonymous sources, it was built by the Sims boat builders in England to innovative specifications as would be worthy of a technological institution. Its main feature was that its greatest width was at #3, as the powerhouse location, narrowing toward the stern where a lighter stroke set the pace. After trials with adequate rearrangement of men and rigging and agonizing over the potential of this fine centerpiece it was deemed unsuitable for varsity use as it was prone to settling at the stern and was not fast, so was soon relegated to the lightweight crews and was put to good use in their rise to eminence in that classification of rowing. Of course any first is followed eventually by others equally welcome, but it was a let-down at the time. The varsity soon returned to their previous selection, a fast but very limber eight of the lot of surplus shells acquired two years earlier which had the distinction of having been used by the winning Harvard crew in the Grand Challenge Cup Race at Henley on 1914. It was perhaps too limber for the rough waters of the lower basin under stress of wind and churning launches as it collapsed and was reduced to splintered cedar at the end of the 1 3/4 mile course after the final stroke at the finish line near the Union Boat Club.
Oarsmen of the mid-twenties will remember the chaotic conditions in the vicinity of the Tech (ex. BAA) boathouse when extensive changes were taking place in the bridges above and below the site. Above was the old wooden Cottage Farm Bridge and the Railroad Bridge, the latter crossing diagonally under the former, while below was the St. Marys Street wooden traffic bridge all utilizing wooden piles with varying spacing leaving few places where a shell with extended oars could pass through. The upstream bridges were not so bad being more sheltered and had coinciding wide spans on the Boston side for passage of commercial traffic with a multiplicity of piles that made it seem almost as a tunnel. But between the boathouse and the basin or any kind of a cross wind. With hopefully perfect alignment by the cox and quick response by the port or starboard rowers, who of course could only wonder as to how well the cox was steering, for more or less effort on one side or the other subject to instantaneous change in guess, for the shell to pass through in a continuous sequence. The alternative was to stop rowing, hold on port or starboard, pull in or drag oars on one side or the other or let dragging oars slap along the piles like a boy rattling a stick along fence pickets. And the ultimate degradation was to come to a stop with one or more oars extending between the piles which required someone to withdraw an oar from the oarlock and use it as a push-pole.
Any crews from upstream heading for the basin to race or practice on a course there had to pass this devils labyrinth, with the congestion occurring below or above the St. Marys or both above and below If troubles appeared while above the Cottage Farm they could just turn around and go back home, unless they were determined to keep a race or time trial schedule. And if caught there by dusk, especially on a cold fall or spring day with a cold wind blowing, there was little joy sitting in a wet boat contemplating the draining of the last bit of hot water in the showers by more fortunate crews and a delayed supper. And if several crews did get to the one-at-a-time float together there was further aggravation in waiting for ones turn. It sometimes took real dedication to rowing to enthuse over coming back the next day.
This became a better/worse situation in 1927 when repairs were being made to the Cottage Farms Bridge and the St. Marys Bridge was being removed, which resulted in the Charles River and Basin being cluttered with floating (barely) debris containing spikes, cross members and other lethal projections invisible in darkened or rough waters. This curtailed some of the Tech activity and most of that from upstream, enforced by necessity and judgment, and brought about the first early morning rowing to take advantage of calmer water and improved visibility, though eyes might have been a little more fogged from early rising and stomachs rumbling from lack of breakfast. But with eventual removal of the lower bridge and improvements in the upper the conditions were so much better that all was forgiven, though not forgotten by those who had been through the experience.
Along with the bridge work there was a further complication in alterations to the boathouse, brought about by the increase in rowing activity, adequate coaching supervision, maintenance and planning by the Institute and the cooperation of the Metropolitan District Commission that permitted both expansion and permanence to the property. The one-shell float, a carry over from the tidal days, partially under water when too many bodies were on it at one time, was changed to a pile supported dock with an angled wing outward to either side so that there was room for up to five shells at dock at one time which greatly facilitated launching and return of shells. And to the original three bays of the first floor boat storage, one of them always blocked by something under repair, there were added another bay on either side. The upstream bay was entirely for shop work by the rigger, Pat Manning, who now had a "craftsman's heaven", and the downstream bay for additional shell storage. For the crews there was added locker space, more showers and increased hot water capacity over the new upstream addition and room for two more sets of rowing machines over the downstream.
With the improved conditions in the upper basin there were still problems in the lower with its hard granite walls on both Boston and Cambridge shores from which waves rebounded seemingly forever especially bad when the wind created waves were light, which was not alleviated until the Boston shore was softened by lagoons and sloping grassy embankments. There were few speedboats on the basin other than the coaching launches following their crews, all inboard powered and able to carry a number of people beside the coach and driver and of a design that left a considerable wake. A wake could transform flat water into irregular waves rebounding from wall to wall, complicated by other waves from different directions and all destructive of good blade work. On race days the first race scheduled might have good water but from then on it was a problem of the referee as to when t start the next if at all. All launches carrying coaches and VIP's naturally wanted to keep as close to their crews as possible during a race and then dash madly back for last minute words with their entries for the next race, all of which kept the basin in a turmoil. For many years the worst offender was the massive tub of a Chris-Craft used by the Harvard coach which could carry unnumbered dignitaries and which left, at any speed above full stop, a wake of a battleship. Its driver was unseemingly adept and determined at placing his craft wherever best for the Harvard crews regardless of the affect of other shells in the vicinity. It was not unusual for the Varsity crews, in the last and big event of the day, to also be in competition with the approaching darkness and cancellation. Water conditions are never what one would like to have for a race and therefore almost always bad.
Above the Tech Boathouse, training ground for all crews when the basin is to be avoided, were the bridges, bends and boathouses that were continuing obstacles to navigation, especially after dark when many crews were forced to finish their days work. A part of all training being spurts of ten strokes, over and over, there was rarely an easy or comfortable excursion although with good water, calm air and the boat moving well there is an exhilarating feeling of confidence and accomplishment. And conversely, of course, if the shell hangs continuously to port or starboard splashing cold water from the riggers to arms and backs of the rowers and the coach or cox seemingly lacking in sympathy, it is easy to think of better sports in which to be engaged, perhaps such as table tennis in a heated room.
In winter rowing, and any rowing except summer, rowing can feel like winter rowing, every discomfort is magnified. There is much less daylight and a return to the boathouse in natural light may be a rarity. Ice freezes on oars, riggers and gunwales, and hands are vulnerable while gripping an oar making blade control more difficult. Keeping moving can be beneficial but a stop can be a welcome chance for hands to seek the warmth of armpits, stomach or groin. And always the contemplation of the return to the float or dock, worse with water sloshing in the bottom of the shell, to toss the shell overhead to carry in to the boathouse with a shower of icy water on the heads of those unfortunate enough to have to pass under the tossed shell to the opposite gunwale. The lesser evil, should there be enough water to prevent tossing, might require extra help to lift out and roll on knees to empty the water in the laps of all. The greater sufferer might be the cox after sitting immobile in the stern for an hour without room for adequate clothing, holding rudder lines and taking full-face whatever spray came from oars or riggers.
His only relief was his shouting into the megaphone attached to his facie acting more like a funnel feeding water to his mouth rather than an amplifier of his voice to his crew. It was not uncommon for a cox, lacking exercise, body fat and a warm clothing to have to be lifted out of a shell at the completion of a cold row. The coach and driver in a launch did not have it much better though they should start out with warmer clothing.
While enduring these arctic horrors it would be most comforting to contemplate getting into a hot shower and warm locker room. The BAA boathouse had little water, cold or hot, until after the 1927 renovations and even then the hot lasted only for the first few crews in the varsity or other favored (?) crews usually delayed to receive extra attention in the water got what was left, if any. Attempts to share hot water, such as showering by whole crews with the hot water turned on by the manager for 30 seconds or some specified short time were a help but usually were overlooked at the wrong time. To a spartan individualist a cold shower might have a therapeutic value under some conditions, but not for most after a cold row before going to a belated supper of remnants of a hot meal. Probably all this is irrelevant not with the Pierce Boathouse design based on experience of the past, and subsequential comparisons are mental, not physical perceptions. To which the reply can be, "The good old days, - they were awful."
To offset this negative evaluation, there must be the positive of the eighty or ninety percent of the time when it was a happy and rewarding experience in which those who could adapt to a few inconveniences and stay with it could ever after feel a sense of pride of accomplishment. There is an empathy lasting throughout a lifetime between those who have participated in this sport of sports.
Any sport has, hopefully, a continuing succession of firsts in its history. In 1929 there was a significant event when after many years of competition with Navy at Annapolis in a spirit of admiration rather than rivalry, Tech varsity was the winner. Though in other races of the season Tech success was limited to placing second ahead of other opponents, the overall record was sufficient for the Athletic Council to enter Tech in the IRA (Intercollegiate Rowing Association) Regatta at Poughkeepsie, the super race and goal of all rowing institutions. As a tough four mile race, unfamiliar and impossible on most race courses, on the mighty and forbidding Hudson River with its rough water, winds and tides are sure to at least introduce serious problems to all contenders. But Tech did get a measure of notoriety by being announced for the first three miles of the race in 1929, via the new and novel use of radio broadcast while the contest was in progress, as being in the lead. Fortunately, at that point the broadcast announcer clarified the situation with the explanation that under the water conditions many crews had swamped, that all the survivors were out of their proper lanes and that the crew in the lead was at the moment unknown. Tech did get a first place out of the contest however by being the first of four crews to sink out of the nine starters. With that experience and education in four mile racing, 1930 confirmed that they had learned well when Tech did actually lead over most of the length of the Poughkeepsie course and ended third, ahead of some of the leading crews in the country favored to win in a field of nine. The spirit and ability of Tech rowing under the coaching of Bill Haines could not be denied.
With this success and publicity the turnout for crew was taxing the ability of the boathouse and equipment to provide the desired training. The alumni and others, impressed with the quality of the M.I.T. rowing program. responded with new shells and moral support. A new innovation was added in 1931 with the freshmen indoctrination camp on Lake Massapoag in Sharon, Mass., to which two lapstrake training eights were brought with which to give the feel of a sweep oar and a sliding seat to prospective oarsmen. Coach Haines and some of the varsity oarsmen were on hand to encourage and impress the newcomers. Enthusiasm was high, but success did not follow as a natural result of enthusiasm alone and Tech began a cycle of less outstanding performances.
Even though the intended emphasis of rowing as a builder of health and crew as a builder of men was Institute policy, there was of course the importance of winning races as well. There has to be a measure of the success attained in the minds of both the participants and supporters in order to maintain the momentum and the appearance of a mediocre record brought about some soul searching for the magic key to restored success. Rowing in the United States was an outgrowth of the techniques developed in England, through the influence of oarsmen and coaches imported from that country. Form was an important ingredient of their style and, as long as everyone adhered to that style there was a condition of equality. But then there were some innovative ideas developed, mainly on the west coast whereby California and Washington, rivals on their own league, invaded the east at Poughkeepsie and other competitions with great success. As a natural result, some of their graduating oarsmen continued their rowing careers by becoming coaches, bringing with them their successful styles and techniques and became a quandary to their rivals. When they produced winning crews with these innovations it was natural that other coaches wondered if they could or must follow the trend.
The stroke taught by Bill Haines in his years of coaching following his apprenticeship in England followed by his years at Union, Harvard and M.I.T. was a long pull through followed by a slow recovery while the shell traveled and the oarsmen theoretically relaxed. In training practice, a four count was sounded by the cox, - one for the pull through followed by equally spaced two, three and four for the recovery. This was beautiful to watch if well done, but impossible to maintain at a high stroke to win a race. There was also the danger that, with lack of training with waves or winds and with the blades in the air and little body momentum, there was a tendency for the shell to drop to one side or the other with resulting instability and drag. Reaching out so far and slow resulted in a tendency to a full stop or oar and body before the catch. The pull through was where the power and speed was developed, at the end of which the oarsman was practically laying on his back in an equally awkward position for starting the recovery. Of course when it came to racing, after practice with a long count, the stroke shortened and the oars were put into the water as rapidly as possible and rhythm and effectiveness suffered. The western style, in training and racing, was a shorter and more comfortable stroke which produced winning results.
In that period Bill Haines tried to adapt, mentally and physically, to that changes taking place around him in the rowing circles without forsaking all his experience and coaching career with resulting confusion to the oarsmen and without a doubt, a damaging effect on their race results. An exception to the weight crews under other more responsive coaching, whose performance was more rewarding. The Advisory Council on Athletics and others involved in the oversight and administration of sports recognized the deteriorating situation and its unfortunate effect on the participants. To take remedial action while still dedicated to the principles of sports for the benefits to the health and minds of those involved rather than just winning, took much soul searching but the decision was made to relieve Bill Haines of his coaching contract at the end of the 1937 season after thirteen stimulating years of leadership, unfortunately marred at the end by two years of bemoaning by the followers of the sport of the difficulties faced by Tech oarsmen and the stiffer competition from other rowing colleges. The lightweights using "Val" Valentine had enjoyed successful competition using the less traditional western trend and he took over the Tech rowing program until in 1940, Tech followed the trend and Robert "Bob" Moch came as head coach. With his background as coxswain of Washington crews and as assistant coach there and bringing with him another Washington oarsman James "Jim" McMillan to Tech, as was happening throughout the rowing world, became a part of the changeover from the English Orthodox to the western style of stroke. In England, where tradition in any form retains a stronger hold on practice, the American or Western style had a lesser effect with fewer opportunities of challenge or comparison. Eventually there would be further alterations to rowing techniques, influences by Olympic competition so that there could be called three basic rowing styles broken down into English, American and International for lack of better names. All this would be accompanied by varying characteristics of shell design supporting different riggers, oars, seating sequence, rudders, training routines and many other minor innovations that could be called a part of attempts to improve on past practices. But of course it all boils down eventually to nine men in a boat working to be the first over a finish line, recognizing the ever present confrontations of greater men using lesser equipment versus lesser men with better equipment, tempered by the spirit of competition.
But with all this gradual development in the art of rowing, with the approximate time of change as WWII at this date of viewpoint, Bill Haines was a casualty. Compounded by his age and long years of dedication to his sport and profession, he was overtaken and replaced by those more able to adapt to trends proven or assumed by figures on a scoreboard. It was a hard decision for M.I.T., an institution dedicated to the development of men rather than the winning of races, but it was recognized that the preservation of the first goal was best served by inclusion of the second.
In sports, no less than in any competition activity, participation in the 'big time' is always a goal. And once having a taste of it, even though with less than anticipated success, a sportsmanship accepts the bitter with the sweet and accepted by all contestants as a part of the game. Tech has had its fair share of both extremes but fortunately has averaged a commendable middle position. Its rigorous scholastic requirements, time schedules tied only to its educational curriculum without consideration of extra activities and official recognition of sports only to the extent that they are contributors to the health and well being of the individual makes participation on a sport or other non-scholastic distraction a matter of some sacrifice.
The 'big time' in rowing has exemplified by the IRA (Intercollegiate Rowing Association) competition, except for restrictive traditional events such as the Harvard-Yale and other social emotional contests.