PULLING TOGETHER

How the UW crew made history in ’36 and set a legacy in motion

By Jamie Swenson

August 14, 1936. In the German community of Grünau, 75,000 spectators packed the shores of the Langer See, weathering the wind and rain to watch the final rowing event of the Berlin Olympics. Overlooking them all from a prominent balcony were Adolf Hitler and his entourage, who had arrived earlier that afternoon to cheers and salutes from the mostly German crowd.

In the United States and Europe, there had been calls to boycott the Olympics in protest of the oppression of German Jews, though those efforts hadn’t prevailed. Now the U.S. and its future allies aimed to bring symbolic opposition through their Olympic might. It was an especially tall order in the row ing events.

Germany had already won gold in five out of six rowing finals that day. Anticipation grew as six nations’ boats lined up for the most prestigious race of all: the eights, with a coxswain and eight oarsmen in each shell.

Representing the U.S. was a group of University of Washington student-athletes, young men from working-class backgrounds and small towns in Washington state, facing the biggest moment of their lives.

What “the boys in the boat” achieved in that race is legendary. So are the odds they over came, the historical moment and the values they embodied and inspired—values shared by Huskies to this day. The starter shouted, “Partez!” and dropped his flag. The race had begun.

Every fall in Seattle, young men would gather at the Associated Students of UW (ASUW) Shell House, perched on the foot structure, its massive sliding doors opening onto the Cut. Stacked within were racing shells, the longest of them—the eights—measuring 60 feet.

Inside, rowers-to-be would have been met by the smells of varnish and western red cedar. If they stayed late after practice, they might have heard legendary shell builder and rowing sage George Pocock sanding away in his upstairs workshop, where he made his living building shells not just for the UW but for virtually every rowing team in the U.S.

The Shell House was a place alive with possibility, where Pocock designed and crafted cutting-edge rowing shells, and where head coach Al Ulbrickson and freshman coach Tom Bolles molded young men of raw athletic ability into crews that won championships.

That same sense of possibility is palpable at the Shell House even today—which is why the UW community is pulling together to restore the structure. Once completed, it will be an inspirational gathering place on the water’s edge that connects campus and community, a place to reflect on our shared past as we continue moving forward.

In the leadup to the 1936 season, UW coach Ulbrickson knew his team had more than enough talent to win a national championship and maybe even Olympic gold. But it was up to him to find the right combination of men who rowed even better together—a sum greater than its parts.

The young men who most impressed Ulbrickson had grown up quickly in Depression-wracked timber towns, mining camps and dairy farms. They earned money for school by working in pulp mills, on the docks, on fishing boats and even on the Grand Coulee Dam. Higher education was their path to a different life. And at the UW, it didn’t matter where they came from. What mattered was what they were becoming.

After much lineup experimentation, Ulbrickson finally found his perfect combination: Bobby Moch at coxswain, Donald Hume at stroke, then Joe Rantz, George Hunt, Jim McMillin, Johnny White, Gordon Adam and Charles Day, with Roger Morris in the bow seat. This was a hardscrabble bunch, mentally and physically tough from years of manual labor and dogged perseverance.

Ulbrickson declared them the Washington varsity eight. They would never lose a race together.

In the 1936 regular season, the varsity eight made their case as one of Washington’s all-time great crews, but what came next made them legends. After soundly beating the University of California in the Pacific Coast Regatta, Washington traveled to Poughkeepsie for the Intercollegiate Rowing Association National Championship Regatta, where they came from behind to claim the title, defeating Cal and several elite East Coast schools. Then it was on to Princeton for the Olympic trials, where they once again came from behind to win against the top crews in the country.

Al Ulbrickson was the UW Rowing head coach for more than 30 years. His teams won six national championships, two Olympic gold medals and an Olympic bronze.

The UW varsity eight was headed to Berlin. But first, someone had to pay for it. The American Olympic Committee (AOC) stunned the UW with the news that the team had to pay their own way—with less than a week to come up with the $5,000 (roughly $100,000 in today’s dollars) to cover their trip. Otherwise the AOC would send Penn, which had finished second in the trials and had ample funding.

The Seattle Times and Seattle PostIntelligencer helped spread that news, and the Times gave a lead gift of $500, spurring the community to action. Volunteers made phone calls and solicited donations on the streets of Seattle. Loyal fans stepped up with donations ranging from 5 cents to several hundred dollars.

Within two days, the Husky community, which had already helped pay for the team’s travel to Poughkeepsie and Princeton, once again came through, ensuring the Washington eight would represent the U.S. and compete for the gold. It was a community spirit that abides today.

In the Olympic final on the Langer See on that blustery evening, the men from Washington found themselves in last place. It wasn’t just that they got off to a slow start. Though they’d won their qualifying heat two days earlier— setting world and Olympic records in the process—they had been placed in the worst lane, exposed to a driving crosswind for much of the course, while Germany and Italy had been awarded the two most protected lanes.

The UW boat spent the first half of the 2,000-meter race battling wind and choppy water and trying not to fall too far behind for a comeback. By 1,200 meters, they’d moved into third position.

Then, as the Langer See narrowed and their lane was finally protected from the wind, they began to claw their way back.

Amid cries of “Deutschland!” from tens of thousands of German onlookers, the Americans kicked up their stroke rate, overtaking the sprinting Germans and Italians in the final 200 meters, dropping back to even—and then, in a dramatic finish, surging forward again and winning the race by about 10 feet. Washington had won the gold.

The story, of course, does not end here; it cannot be separated from its historical context. The 1936 Olympic Games were Hitler’s chance to burnish Germany’s image, portraying a unified and supposedly peaceful nation.

But when the Olympics ended, Nazi Germany’s hateful campaign of persecution and terrorization of Jewish, Romani and LGBTQ+ people, and many others, quickly escalated to ethnic cleansing and genocide. Within three years, World War II had begun.

After winning Olympic gold and then a second consecutive national championship in 1937, many of the UW rowers graduated and went on to support the war effort, working on warplanes at Boeing and filling roles such as naval doctor, Seabee and merchant marine.

After the war, they’d sometimes reunite and squeeze back into the Husky Clipper—that Pocock-built shell they’d propelled to gold years before— and row together on Lake Washington once again.

Today, a decade after the publication of Daniel James Brown’s bestseller “The Boys in the Boat,” with a George Clooney film adaptation on the horizon (release and premiere dates are not yet set), the epic story of the Husky eight lives on at the UW.

“Before the book, we at the UW knew it was a great story, but now the whole world knows about it,” says UW Men’s Rowing head coach Michael Callahan, who himself rowed for Washington from 1992 to 1996. “Trust, teamwork and perseverance—Ulbrickson, Bolles and Pocock taught those values then, and we teach them today.”

The Husky Clipper currently hangs from the rafters of Conibear Shellhouse, where the UW men’s and women’s crews now train—a short walk north from the ASUW Shell House. But “The Boys in the Boat” isn’t the only story of inspiration housed in Conibear. “Young people appreciate that greatness has happened here,” says Callahan. “But they’re also here to create their own legacy.”

That they have. Just inside the south entrance is a room lined with glass cases of trophies, medals and plaques honoring the many achievements of the UW men’s and women’s rowing programs. Behind each award was a unique group of Huskies who trained hard, pulled as one and became part of a whole that was greater than the sum of its parts. And who, with the UW community’s support behind them, added another chapter to the storied history of rowing at the University of Washington.

On a dark winter morning in 2016, Teresa Dennerlein, ’21, dropped off her spouse at Joint Base Lewis-McChord before driving north to the UW Tacoma campus. She was excited and nervous about starting college—her first time in “a real classroom.”

Dennerlein grew up in what she describes as an ultrareligious, conservative community, disconnected from the outside world and informally homeschooled by her parents. Her education often took the form of her parents handing her a book to read. Gaps in her knowledge bubbled up at unexpected moments at the UW, like after an ancient history class when she had to look up the location of the Mediterranean Sea.

Compassion and support from her professors made her feel less alone—and changed how she saw her own abilities in and out of the classroom. “My professors saw me as a whole human, not just as someone who was smart or academically capable,” says Dennerlein, her voice cracking with emotion as she recalls how meaningful it was to hear a favorite professor say, “I could never be disappointed in you.”

Dennerlein is now about to start her second year at the UW School of Law, which she says feels like “bonus points” after finishing her UW degree: “I made it further than I was supposed to, given my upbringing.” Her journey from that first day of class to law school was enabled by encouragement from her professors and support from mentorship programs and scholarships. Together, these support systems gave her a sense of belonging—and the confidence that she could make a difference in other people’s lives.

Dennerlein is used to feeling like an outsider. She describes a childhood and adolescence cut off from society in a “cultlike” community in Virginia. That formative experience remained with her even when she found a way out, traveling the country as a violinist with a band and eventually moving to the Pacific Northwest, where her military spouse was stationed.

“Part of my identity was shaped by feeling excluded, so I don’t want anyone else to feel that way,” says Dennerlein, at the same time acknowledging her privilege in society as a white woman. “I want to go to bat for people who are excluded or discriminated against—or who don’t have access to the law.”

At the UW, the politics, philosophy and economics major appealed to her desire to better understand the rules of the society her parents had taught her to mistrust. Public service and advocacy seemed like a natural next step—a way to help others who’ve been excluded. But Dennerlein didn’t have any examples to draw from in her life, no attorneys in her family to call or personal networks to mine.

The Dressel Scholars and Legal Pathways programs at UW Tacoma filled that gap. Both programs aim to break down barriers for students who are the first in their families to attend college or who come from communities historically excluded from higher education. As a Dressel Scholar, Dennerlein connected with five Tacoma-area attorneys who mentored her and provided practical insights into the legal profession. “Mentorship makes a big difference,” she says,

Bring law school within reach. When you strengthen scholarship and mentorship programs, you don’t just provide crucial financial assistance to students like Teresa Dennerlein—you help them find their way. giving.uw.edu/june-2023

“when you didn’t grow up with attorneys and you don’t know what the field looks like.”

The Legal Pathways program helped Dennerlein solidify her interest in law versus a related field like public policy. Funded by the Washington State Legislature to increase access to legal education and careers, the program offers a mix of speakers, workshops and mentorship. It also helped Dennerlein navigate the often-unwritten rules of the law school application process and fully understand the financial implications of going to law school.

Dennerlein believes that by diversifying the legal field, the program will change the face of law—and make it more meaningful. “People with privileged backgrounds look at the law differently,” she explains. “Until we have more judges who grew up poor and understand that a $5 fine can change someone’s life, judges will perpetuate rules that don’t actually get at fairness.”

Tales of Triumph

By Patrick Crumb Chair, UW Foundation Board

With guidance from the Legal Pathways director and her other mentors, Dennerlein applied and was accepted to several law schools, including at Georgetown University and Seattle University. She chose UW Law when she found out she’d received the prestigious Gates Public Service Law Scholarship, a full-ride award given to just five first-year students each year.

Thanks to the scholarship, Dennerlein has been able to focus solely on her studies and not worry about finances. She notes how critical this support is: “A lot of students really want to do public-interest work but can’t, for example, take unpaid internships because they aren’t getting a stipend.”

This summer, Dennerlein will head to Pittsburgh to work for the United Steelworkers union as a Peggy Browning Fellow. It’s her opportunity to experience the kind of work she wants to do in the future as a labor lawyer: advocating for workers and addressing power imbalances between workers and their employers.

“I want to use my law degree to help as many people as I can,” Dennerlein says. “I’m empowered to do that because of the scholarships I’ve received. Generosity has changed my life.”

It’s been a decade since Daniel James Brown’s “The Boys in the Boat” hit bookshelves, introducing audiences worldwide to a University of Washington epic: the story of the 1936 Husky varsity rowing team, which won gold in the Berlin Olympics. The book was a No. 1 New York Times bestseller and will soon be a George Clooney–directed major motion picture (MGM hasn’t yet set the release or premiere dates). It’s no wonder this story has captivated audiences: You don’t have to be a rower or a Husky to get swept up in an underdog tale that celebrates the values of working hard, trusting your teammates and pulling together toward a common goal. But these young men weren’t going for gold on their own—the Husky community was behind them all the way. Tens of thousands of fans thronged the shores of Lake Washington to cheer them on during their sweep of Cal in the Pacific Coast Regatta, and donors throughout the Seattle area helped send the student-athletes to compete on the East Coast and overseas. (Read more about the famed ’36 varsity boat on p. 44.)

The values that buoyed the 1936 varsity team were not new to the UW then, and they define us to this day.

Take Teresa Dennerlein, at left. As a nontraditional student at UW Tacoma, she faced many barriers in pursuing her goal of being an attorney and community leader. But with the help of scholarships, mentors and the opportunities provided by UW Tacoma’s Legal Pathways initiative, Dennerlein graduated last year and started at the UW School of Law last fall. Her story shows what’s possible when talented students’ hard work is bolstered by your generosity and support.

“The Boys in the Boat” may be one of the most well-known UW tales of triumph, but it certainly isn’t the only one. From authors to attorneys to astronauts, countless Huskies have made their mark on the world, thanks to a combination of intellect, curiosity, teamwork and a UW community that supported them every step of the way. And with the help of people like you, countless more are writing their own success stories today.