Strong Wind Drives His Yacht, but What Makes Conner Tack? : Stars & Stripes’ Skipper Difficult Figure to Figure

Sometime, somewhere, Dennis Conner must have met Archie Moore, for they both live in San Diego.

Moore must have looked upon a cocky kid once named Cassius Clay as Conner beholds Chris Dickson, because the America’s Cup challenge final that started today comes down to this: the crafty, paunchy old warrior in one corner, the fiery-eyed upstart in the other, standing between Conner and his long-sought triumph.

The generation gap can be intimidating. Moore probably had no better idea of what to make of Clay in 1962 than Conner, 44, knows how to deal with Dickson, 25, other than with the usual tacks and jibes. Sometimes, especially in mano a mano combat, it helps to know the opponent’s mind.

“It can’t hurt,” Conner said. “But we’ve sailed against each other three times in our lives and we’ve said as many words to each other. I don’t feel like I know him real well.”

On the other hand, said Peter Isler, Conner’s navigator: “Dennis is no enigma to Dickson.”

One wonders, though: Does anyone really know Dennis Conner? Does Dennis Conner know Dennis Conner? The last few months in Fremantle have revealed enough sides of the man to confuse a psychologist.

There is the Conner who lashes out at a reporter: “Are you stupid or are you just a Kiwi?”--then apologizes profusely over a mistaken identity.

There is the Conner who hears the crying of a boy who has fallen from his bicycle outside the Stars & Stripes compound, investigates, has some syndicate ladies administer first aid and invites the lad for a ride on the boat.

“It was great,” says Jamie Rumsley, 9. “I had six cans of cool drink and three (granola) bars.”

And Conner has a friend for life.

Then there is the Conner who knows better than to pop off but sometimes can’t help himself.

“Talk is cheap,” he says. “I’ll keep my mouth shut. I have a fiberglass muzzle on.”

Then in the next moment he says: “Why would anyone build a fiberglass (12-meter) unless they were trying to cheat?”

On that occasion, Tom Blackaller, Conner’s great antagonist, was quick to pounce. “I don’t think he should have said that,” Blackaller said.

Conner replied, smiling: “I take it all back.”

Conner meets a newsboy in a shop and takes him for a ride on Stars & Stripes.

Conner is run off the defenders’ course for pacing a race between the Kookaburras to check their speed. Cheeky.

He emerges from a waterfront restaurant, drink in hand and relaxed, and agreeably poses for a picture with two young ladies.

Exploiting his ’83 image as the loser of the Cup, he does an Australian TV commercial promoting the sale of America’s Cup commemorative stamps “in a special folder, so even I can’t lose them.”

He autographs each set.

“It’s the least I can do for you guys,” he says, grinning through the tube.

Next to Prime Minister Bob Hawke, he has become the favorite subject of editorial cartoonists in Western Australia and the arch-enemy of the little country with the plastic boat.

Conner courts controversy. And if he can’t find it, it finds him.

The Aussies love it. Deep down, they probably would rather lose the Cup to him than anyone else, if they have to lose it.

A New Zealand sponsor’s ad reads: “What does Conner have in common with 17 million Steinlager (beer) cans? They’re all behind KZ7.”

Is he behind? What does Conner really think?

One day, perhaps off guard, he will predict a 4-0 sweep. The next day, asked about the Kiwis’ weaknesses, he tells reporters: “If you guys’ll tell me what they are, I’ll work on ‘em. We haven’t seen any weaknesses.

“We’ve sailed 72 miles 37 seconds apart, and 7 of the last 14 marks we were overlapped. It looks like it’s going to be a heck of a good series.”

Analyzed, that gives Dickson little to swing at. The Mongoose is ready to strike.

Tom Whidden, Conner’s tactician in three America’s Cup campaigns, says: “Dennis has a comfort level, as we all do, and when he’s in that comfort level, nobody’s better. He knows to do the right thing at the right time.”

On the boat, Whidden says: “He’s very quiet, very unemotional. Hardly says a word. He and I talk back and forth, but that’s pretty much all that’s said.

“We try hard to keep it light . . . joke around once in a while. If things are going wrong . . . “

In a race against Blackaller, they guessed wrong on the wind and had the wrong sails on. A halyard jammed. The headsail ripped. They won.

“We could easily have gone to pieces there and, in fact, Dennis is a little more uncomfortable when things are going wrong,” Whidden said. “He performs a little less well, so we all say, ‘Look, Dennis, when you’re concentrating, you’re the best, so just go back to concentrating and we’ll do our jobs.’

“I see Dennis getting maybe a little more tight about a Blackaller race than somebody else. But we’re going into this series feeling very confident about our speed, (so) I feel Dennis will perform at 110%.

“When he feels we’ve got everything going our way, he performs very well.”

Some people close to Conner say that his insecurities drive him. Probably no syndicate has a stronger crew or support staff, but to outsiders it seems almost a one-man campaign.

“Because there’s so much media visibility this time, you tend to call it, ‘Conner wins today,’ or ‘Conner loses today,’ but it’s almost like using the name of the boat to identify our camp,” Whidden said.

“He’s the guy that takes the greatest amount of risk. Dennis is willing to put his name and his ability on the line.

“Every once in a while you wish that somebody would say, ‘Well, Tom Whidden’s made all the sails, Tom Whidden’s the tactician, so therefore they’re winning,’ but it’s just one contribution.”

And, maybe it’s only proper. After all, Conner took the heat in ’83.

Sometimes, Conner’s cronies cringe at his antics.

Mort Bloom, a San Diego lawyer who is involved in the Sail America effort, says: “This is the thing he gets the biggest charge out of: The hype, the publicity, the notoriety. It’s like a shot in the arm for him.

“No question, he’s a very insecure man in some areas. When you see him most in the public area at a press conference, that’s what he does worst. Because he’s done it so long, he has developed a veneer. I can see that he hates it.

“Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much guile. Whatever’s on his mind, he says.”

Such as suggesting that New Zealand is trying to cheat by using a fiberglass boat.

“It was an impolitic thing to say,” Bloom said. “But he felt it and he said it. In that situation, you’ve gotta be a little clever.”

The other side?

“He’s an extremely dedicated man,” Bloom said. “He’s at the dock at 6 o’clock in the morning. What’s he doing? I don’t know. He’s there.”

Conner grew up in the Point Loma section of San Diego, but he wasn’t yacht club-bred.

“He loved boats,” Bloom said. “His parents couldn’t afford to belong to the San Diego Yacht Club, but because he hung around there a lot, they let him into their junior program.”

By reputation, Conner would seem to be a difficult skipper to sail for. But several of his crew have been with him for years and keep coming back.

Ed DuMoulin, who ran Conner’s programs with Freedom and Liberty, said: “He’s very quiet. Never gets on ‘em when they make a mistake. Talks to them well after.”

Bloom added: “We have had a couple of incidents during this event when there were goofs on the boat. One I can think of was his goof and not the crew’s goof, and he publicly acknowledged it.”

That was when Conner over-steered the leeward mark and allowed New Zealand to slip around inside and into the lead to win.

“That was his fault and he said so,” Bloom said. “He doesn’t always eat with the crew. He’ll eat with his family. But that night, he came to the crew dining house on purpose just to tell the guys that he thought they did fine, it was his fault.

“He’s not flawless. But he has a remarkable memory. He can remember anything that ever happened in a race, and he can remember it about races that happened years ago. The guy’s got a computer mind for it.”

DuMoulin said: “He remembers the sails he used. He’s a breed apart. A prodigious worker. Sets a tough pace. Long hours. Gets fully involved in all phases of the program. He’s the creator of the concept of how to defend or challenge (for the America’s Cup).”

Bloom said: “I don’t think he’s obsessed with it. But he’s certainly preoccupied with it.”

A highlight of the America’s Cup summer Down Under was the bitter rivalry between Conner and Blackaller. At times, it seemed to be staged, a put-on for the mass media. Blackaller insists it was real.

“I don’t enjoy any part of Dennis Conner,” the effusive Blackaller says. “We are different people. The sport would be a lot better off if he wasn’t around. Much better. Dennis is a bad guy.”

Conner says: “I like Tommy. I’ve never said anything bad about him.”

To which Blackaller responds: “He has no reason to dislike me, at all. I don’t like him. I don’t like the way he does things.

“I don’t like his approach, the multimillion-dollar programs, his trying to hire all the designers and hire all the boat builders and hire all the crew so that nobody else can compete. That’s just not right.

“If the guys that are with him think he’s great, that’s fine. But if everybody in the world applied that kind of thinking to the programs they did in business or sports or whatever, the world would be a terrible place.”

Of course, Conner’s system is geared to winning, not popularity.

“It certainly works in this form,” Blackaller said. “The dogmatic, persistent time and money program that Conner and his boys put together certainly works in this particular area.”

But Blackaller’s feeling for Conner runs deeper than sailing. “I don’t like him as a person. I don’t care for him. I don’t want to talk anymore about him.”

Conner, just back from testing sails, the sun-blocking zinc cream still smeared on his face, says Blackaller’s only complaint about him is that “I’ve taken the fun out of it.

“He’s never criticized me for anything other than I try too hard, because he doesn’t want to do it. He has a lot of natural ability, but he doesn’t enjoy the sailing like I do.”

Some wonder if Dickson is too young to compete at this level, but nobody asks whether Conner is too old.

“What’s kept me ahead of these kids is I have some experience and I try real hard,” he said. “It’s not my idea of fun just to go for a sail, but I like to sail-test. That was fun for me today.

“I can’t wait to get down here and be at it. I love it.”