Herreshoff’s attempt to enlighten the rest of us

Spring 2023

The Compleat Cruiser – the Art, practice, and Enjoyment of Boating
By L. Francis Herreshoff, published by Sheridan House, 1963.

By Randy Randall

Arthur Wiley was a farmer, an airplane pilot, a welder, an inventor, a mechanic and a teacher. He was also Gary’s father-in-law, and when Gary and I worked at the marina, Art liked nothing more than to drop by and give us advice. He was full of stories and opinions, and we heard them all. When Art drove away, Gary would comment how in every one of his stories, Arthur came off as the hero. We laughed, but it was true.

I thought fondly of Arthur as I was reading L. Francis Herreshoff’s “The Compleat Cruiser” (The Art, Practice, and Enjoyment of Boating) because, like Arthur, Herreshoff is the hero in all of his own stories. And, like Art, Herreshoff knew a lot about a lot of things, mostly nautical, and he apparently felt it was his mission to enlighten the rest of us about how to go cruising in a small sailboat. He said he hoped to copy Isaac Walton’s famous book about fishing only instead of telling us about sailing. But not just how to sail but more like how to live the cruising lifestyle. I read the book and found Herreshoff exasperating.

The book came out in 1956. Herreshoff apparently was disillusioned with the post-war modernization of American life. He derided the new cars, fast food, telephones, short skirts, television and boats with chrome fixtures. It seems like he thought the modern American family was doomed to a life removed from nature and self-reliance, and his cure for this malaise was to go cruising on one of his sailboats. “The Compleat Cruiser” might be one of the first infomercials because all the boats Herreshoff exemplifies and discusses in his book are boats of his design.

The book serves as a platform for him to tell the world why these boats of his were suited to peace of mind and sane living. If you haven’t read the book, be prepared for some very awkward dialogue and contrived situations, most of which are merely prompts for Herreshoff to climb up on his soapbox and harangue his “gentle readers” for three or four pages about how to properly deploy an anchor, what kind of binoculars to buy and how to make Rhode Island Johnny Cake. He eventually gets around to extolling the virtues of his famous cedar bucket.

Herreshoff was a bachelor, but to his credit, he invented some families to go on a cruise together. One yacht carries a mother and dad and two pre-teen girls. The other boat is sailed by a young man and his two nephews. I have to admit these are the best-behaved and most polite and obedient children I’ve ever encountered in literature. More than that, they supposedly take a deep interest in the pedigree of workboats on the New England coast, why there are two “norths” on the chart and how to keep a coal stove burning through the night.

Herreshoff is fierce on the coal stoves and mentions them in nearly every chapter. The two boats cruise in company around Cape Cod to Nantucket and Newport, Block Island and New London. This was territory Herreshoff knew intimately, and he shows that knowledge in page after page detailed descriptions of soundings, rips, races, shallows, buoys, headings, lightships, harbor channels and a rather complete history of Newport.

Is “The Compleat Cruiser” worth reading? Well, yes, I would say so if you can get past the stilted prose and Herreshoff’s opinions and stereotypes, not to mention the instances where he pushes the limits of political correctness.

The man was a genius yacht designer, and he lived in that “golden age” when yachting was practiced as an art form. He doesn’t just tell you how to sail, or row a dinghy, or drop a kedge anchor in rough water. He tells you why you should do it his way. He tells you what to eat, what to drink, how to sleep and even how to keep your dresses pressed under the mattress.

Did you ever climb up into your grandparents’ attic and discover the old lace collars and chamber pots and button hooks and wonder what those things were used for? That’s how I felt reading “The Compleat Cruiser.” It’s so old-fashioned and out of date, yet there’s something there – a glimpse, perhaps, into one man’s vision of a simpler time and a different way of living. I think Herreshoff had the best of intentions, and to show us how it should be done, he takes us on an imaginary cruise. And when the cruise is over, he writes, “And thus ends this overlong story,” which is perhaps his least controversial statement in the entire book.

Frequent contributor, correspondent and friend. Randy Randall is co-owner of Marston’s Marina in Saco, Maine and a dreamer and waterman of the first order.