| May 31.—Harvard, 12; De La Salle, 8. |
The Harvard School team suffered no defeat, and had to play three games to win the first section series. The De La Salle team had only one game to play to win the second section, Hamilton defaulting on May 9th. Few of the games were close or exciting, as most of the scores will show, and it is to be hoped that next year a greater interest will be displayed in our national sport.
The authorities at St. Paul's School, Concord, go to the opposite extreme, in matters connected with outdoor sport, from the course adopted by many other large schools. I mean in regard to publicity. In New York, especially, many principals of schools believe that the welfare of the institutions over which they preside is best promoted by a reasonable amount of newspaper notoriety. The students at those schools hold the same opinion; and as a result we read a good deal about what is going on in the scholastic circles in this city, and we constantly see portraits of the rising young athletes printed in the daily papers. In Boston they go even further. For a column about schools printed in New York there is a page printed in Boston. The faces of the school athletes there are as well-known to the public as those of the most prominent amateurs or professionals. Too much of that sort of thing, of course, is bad, because there are young men who are thus led to believe themselves much more important than they are. Really, the worth of a man in this world—no matter what his sphere in life may be—is not gauged by the number of inches he can occasionally command in a double-leaded column with a spread head and a portrait.
The vice-rector of St. Paul's is of the conviction that school sports of late have run wild, and that the best way to keep them within bounds is to avoid any publicity whatever. I agree with the vice-rector that this is a good enough way, but I am not at all of the opinion that it is the best way. Newspaper enterprise and competition have become so great of late that it is very difficult to withhold from the public any matter of real importance. If one paper does not get it, another will. If the newsgatherer does not obtain all the facts, there will be just enough printed to give an erroneous and unfortunate impression to the reader. It is my opinion that a regulated publicity is best. Any newsgatherer who feels confident that he is getting just as much as his neighbor, and that the information given to him is reliable, will never abuse the privilege by making sensational use of the material. It is usually when information is withheld that sensationalism is called in. The reading public wants something, and the paper that has not got facts to give cooks up something as a substitute. The man who withheld the facts seldom likes the substitution.
These reflections have been called up by the reminiscence of the manner in which the Halcyon and Shattuck boat club races of St. Paul's were conducted three weeks ago. They were held on June 11th, at eleven o'clock in the morning; but as this fact had been withheld from public knowledge the spectators were practically limited to the boys of the school. Of course that is just what the vice-rector wanted. But is he right in this? Why not let the good people of Concord stand upon the shores of Penacook Lake and watch the race between these crews of healthy American boys? Is there anything about sport, as conducted at St. Paul's School, that the vice-rector, or any one else, should be ashamed of? Of course not! Then why not be open and aboveboard about it? Why race when the townsman's back is turned? Why deprive him of a little healthful cheering and an inspiriting sight? He would surely be the better for it, and the St. Paul's crew would be none the worse.
The races this year were most interesting, and one incident of the six-oared race was thrilling. At a point about half-way down the course, while the Shattucks and the Halcyons were still about even, Oglebay, who was rowing No. 2 in the Shattuck boat, broke his oar-lock. Of course his muscle was of no further avail, and thenceforth he could be but a passenger, so he did what every level-headed oarsman does under the circumstance—he leaped into the water. He was picked up by a boat near by. But with only five men the Shattucks were unable to win. It is a sandy thing to do, this jumping into the water from a racing-shell, and while Oglebay is entitled to praise for leaping, he would most certainly have deserved censure if he had not jumped. In the race between Yale and the Atalanta crew on New Haven Harbor, in 1890, Phil Allen, stroke and captain, broke his oar and jumped into the sea. He was picked up by the referee's tug, and stood at the bow dripping wet as he watched his seven men defeat the crack amateur crew of New York. Allen got his training at St. Paul's—in fact, most of the best oarsmen of Harvard and Yale learned to row on Lake Penacook.
The first race of the day at this regatta was a contest between the Halcyon and Shattuck four-oared shells, which was easily won by the former, in 11 min. 21 sec. by about six lengths. The second race was the one in which Oglebay jumped, and the last was the contest for the school championship between the two eight-oared crews of the same clubs. The outcome replaced the Shattuck blue above the Halcyon crimson—the latter having been the champions for the past four years. The Shattuck stroke started at 39 to the minute, but soon fell to 37, and about half-way down the course dropped to 36. The winning crew led the entire distance, and their time was 9 min. 14-1/2 seconds.
Rowing as a scholastic sport has never been much practised in this country except at St. Paul's School, which aims rather more than any other American institution to follow the manners and customs of our Eton and Rugby cousins. And, as far as following the athletic customs and usages of the Britons is concerned, they could not do better at Concord, or anywhere else. There have been races every year on Lake Penacook since 1871, when the Halcyon crew defeated its rivals over a one-mile course in 8 min. 32 sec. But St. Paul's has peculiar advantages for the sport that other schools are deprived of. Years ago there was rowing at St. Mark's School, Southboro', but it was given up for a number of reasons. The sport is to be resumed, however, next spring: but the contests will be inter-class affairs. The day when we shall see interscholastic boat-races is far distant, I am afraid; although there is no reason why it should be.
Exeter and Andover used to row, too; but I don't remember that there ever was an Exeter-Andover race. Exeter is situated near enough to the sea to feel tide-water; and the Swamscott River is very broad near the town. Above it is dammed off, and the upper portion is locally known as Fresh River. The rowing used to be done on Salt River, below the dam. Shells were sent up to the school Athletic Association by Yale and Harvard, who were anxious to encourage the sport so as to obtain good material for their own crews, and for a number of years there were class races in the fall and spring. But after the novelty of the thing had worn away, and no race was arranged with Andover, interest flagged, and in 1883 or 1884 the sport was abandoned, and the old boat-house was left to decay and fall to pieces. The colleges sent shells to Andover, too, and there was some desultory rowing there for a few years, but it was finally abandoned ten or twelve years ago, probably for the same reason that Exeter gave it up—because no interscholastic contest was arranged. It is to be hoped that it will be revived, for there is no better sport on the calendar, and, from a spectacular point of view, it is far ahead of many games that now enjoy wide popularity.