Coming About
When I was in grammar school, my dad, Frank Knoop, would often ask me to do a boat delivery across Lake Michigan with him. Dad was a well-known, avid offshore racer who started racing the Mac in the 1930s when he was in high school. He sailed on some of the most prestigious racing boats in the Great Lakes. Many of these boats were stored in Holland, Michigan, and he would occasionally invite me to sail with him across the lake on boat deliveries.
Many times these deliveries were on bitterly cold October nights, and the seas were rough. The trip often took roughly 9 to 12 hours. I went so I could spend time with my dad and create my own adventures with him, some of which still get told today – like the time when a freighter almost ran us down in the dark. Many times, however, I got sick and hated it. This was my introduction to sailing.
After several crossings, I decided that I wanted nothing to do with getting sick on a sailboat – Dad or no Dad. Growing up in Winnetka, however, we lived blocks from the Lake Michigan beaches, and I had junior high school friends who had Sunfishes. I begged my dad to get one, and he relented on the condition that I took sailing lessons. As a graduation present from junior high, I received a Sunfish. I loved it.
I sailed that summer before high school come rain or shine, wind or no wind, seven days a week. Many times when swimmers weren’t allowed in the water due to high-storm surf, I found a way to get my boat out past the breaking waves. It was exhilarating and truly a challenge. My parents had no idea what I was doing. I had a part-time summer job at a local animal hospital, and I couldn’t wait to get to the lake after work. Dad was smart enough to leave me alone, and he never pushed the sport of sailing on me. During most of the following summers, I did the small-boat thing on my own, and he did the big offshore class downtown.
At New Trier High School, I played four years of football, hockey, and lacrosse, and I was a weight-lifting advocate, setting a school mark for my weight. Dad crewed on a boat named Dora IV at the time. Dora was the queen of Lake Michigan, a “maxi” owned by Lynn Williams, a renowned businessman in Chicago. Dora was 62 feet long and at the time (in the 1970s), she was considered the most technically modern boat on the lakes. In 1973 she won 24 out of 28 races, a Chicago Yachting Association record. Due to Dora’s size, she needed strong, young guys to be “grinders.” Grinders on a boat that size are often referred to as “coffee grinders,” which are large, two-man winches that crank in the trim on the sails. My dad thought I would be perfect for the task.
During the latter part of high school I was a part-time crew member. During college, I joined the Dora’s crew full-time and didn’t realize that I had immediately jumped to the top of the class in offshore sailing. Dora was known internationally, and we did such races as the Newport-Bermuda on her. Dora was subsequently bought by entertainment magnate Ted Turner and became the world-renowned Tenacious. My dad laughed at me at the time and said that I had reached the pinnacle of racing, and I was only in college. Every other boat, he said, would be less than Dora, a model of which is now a Mackinac class trophy. But he was wrong.
After college, while living and working in New York City, I sailed on a number of world-class yachts in Long Island Sound doing the foredeck position. One of the sailors who would occasionally fly in as the top pro on the boat I sailed on was Chicago Yacht Club member Buddy Melges (of America’s Cup fame). But I loved Chicago and Lake Michigan, and in later years I would fly back every summer weekend to go sailing. I often joked to my New York City work colleagues that I could commute to Chicago and go sailing faster than they could get to the Hamptons – sometimes a three- or four-hour commute.
When I moved back to Chicago in the late 1980s, through Lynn Williams, I met John Huff and Dick Stearns. I was introduced to one-design sailing and John’s Tartan 10 sailboat Glider. Dick Stearns, a 1960 Tokyo Olympic silver medalist and sailing professional, became my mentor, and I soaked up every piece of knowledge that I could from him. Dick is the godfather of the Great Lakes, the master; in fact, we often joked that Dick had the power of “the force” with his innate ability to win sailboat races. On Glider, we had a tremendous racing record, and I felt honored to be Dick’s number-one sail trimmer. When Glider was sold, Dick helped me pick out my own Tartan 10 – which I named American Flyer. In 1994 I did my first Mackinac race as skipper of my own boat, and I did it with my dad – his 44th and last to date.
It was a great feeling.