Capital Sailor
Op Sail's chairman was in his element on that never-to-be-forgotten Fourth of July: greeting presidents, potentates, and common folk; heading parades; surveying a seascape dotted with some 10,000 vessels, from rubber rafts to super-carriers.
EMIL MOSBACHER JR. '43, former Chief of Protocol, twice defender of America's Cup, grinned as he watched Operation Sail come off with scarcely a hitch. Nothing unusual there. Bus Mosbacher almost always grins, and flawless performance is standard procedure for Mosbacher enterprises. He has earned the sportswriter's title, "the smiling wizard."
The world had not seen its like since the battle of Navarino in 1827 - nor was it likely to again: that vast armada of 225 ships from 31 countries led by the 16 great square-riggers moving majestically into New York harbor to salute a nation built by seafarers on her 200 th birthday. There were problems - the presence of the Chilean barquentine Esmeralda, sinister allegations in her wake; one drowning in the East River, a miraculous minimum for the crush of people and boats. But nothing could really mar the Bicentennial love-in, the spontaneous swell of national pride and international good will that accompanied the nautical extravaganza. Even The New Yorker lowered its customary hauteur to proclaim "it was a blithe day, a gentle day, a curiously light-hearted day. It was a holiday."
Those who have crewed for Mosbacher would tell you that the same traits that have made him America's - and probably the world's - most celebrated sailor and a distinguished protocol chief all but insured the smooth operation of Op Sail: meticulous attention to detail, unfailing courtesy, disarming good humor, a knack for anticipating obstacles, and the ubiquitous grin the more infectious for being genuine. They are talents equally serviceable for soothing the ruffled feelings of a foreign dignitary, melding ten carefully chosen seamen into a tight-knit crew, or organizing a sea-going spectacular.
Bus Mosbacher's sailing career started before he was five, when his father put him in a dinghy and cast off the lines. He won his first race at nine, took the Midget championship on Long Island Sound twice in his mid-teens, won the national Juniors title before he entered college. As commodore of the Corinthian Yacht Club, he piloted Dartmouth to two intercollegiate Championships.
After three years of wartime Navy service, Mosbacher joined his father in the family's real estate and oil and gas producing business, sailing only occasionally until he returned to competition in 1949. Then for eight years in a row he won the International One-Design championships. His near-miss in the 1958 America's Cup trials to represent this country with the 19-year-old 12-meter yacht Vim established for all time his reputation as a brilliant strategist and superb helmsman. Four years later, he won the trials on Weatherly and defeated the faster Australian challenger Gretel in four out of five races for his first successful defense of yachting's top prize.
Having won, he was through with America's Cup competition, Mosbacher vowed. He sat out the '64 races but succumbed, against fond advice of family and friends, to the lure of another defense in 1967. The legend is that when the ornate silver trophy leaves the niche it has occupied at the New York Yacht Club since 1851, it will be replaced by the skull of the skipper who loses it - with a small round hole between the eyes. On the other hand, the opportunity offered by the syndicate planning the new Intrepid to work from the start with the architect on her design proved irresistible.
Once committed, Mosbacher saw Intrepid through eight models, 35 modifications, and 18 months of tank tests before she was launched, the innovative design of her interior and her deck primarily his. Then the trials, won handily; a summer of hard work at Newport, where the bluest of bloods tried vainly to lionize a man bent on retaining the cup (and his skull) and Time magazine made him a cover boy; and finally in September a four-race sweep over Australia's Dame Pattie.
Mosbacher is said to have been flirting with the lure of yet another defense in 1970, but the challenge was interrupted by his appointment at Chief of Protocol. For more than three years, with the personal rank of Ambassador, he steered a smooth course through the treacherous channels of diplomacy, planning ceremonial occasions and state visits, accompanying the President abroad,and supervising official functions at home.
A multitude of worthy causes, beyond the worlds of top hat or yachting cap, lay claim to Mosbacher's attention, but the green-and-white racing colors of Intrepid's crew offer a clue to his priorities. He has served the College well as alumni co-chairman of the Third Century Fund, a member of the Alumni Council, a committeeman for the Medical School campaign, an overseer of the Hanover Inn, and president of his class. Two of his sons, Emil III '73 and John '78, are Dartmouth men, although Bruce chose Stanford instead. He received an honorary M.A. in 1963 and an Alumni Award at his 40th reunion.
"It's a great day for the race when a nice guy finishes first," the honorary degree citation read in part. And the wizard smiled as the hood dropped on his shoulders.
