Search for a long-lost sisterThe quest for an historic launch leads to Bainbridge Island – so far…

The family history dates back more than seven decades, to a boathouse on Lake Washington. There, two sisters began life - Husky in 1923, and Conny nine years later - as launches used by University of Washington rowing coaches. The latter was named for Hiram Conibear, the legendary Husky crew coach whose rowing stroke remains the accepted standard throughout the world, according to the official U.S. athletic website.The vessel now belongs to Kirk Knapp, an Arlington resident who hopes to locate Husky and reunite the long-separated siblings. My guess is that whoever had - or has - her isn't even aware of what a wonderful piece of history they have, Knapp says.

The family history dates back more than seven decades, to a boathouse on Lake Washington. There, two sisters began life – Husky in 1923, and Conny nine years later – as launches used by University of Washington rowing coaches. The latter was named for Hiram Conibear, the legendary Husky crew coach whose rowing stroke remains the accepted standard throughout the world, according to the official U.S. athletic website.The vessel now belongs to Kirk Knapp, an Arlington resident who hopes to locate Husky and reunite the long-separated siblings. My guess is that whoever had – or has – her isn’t even aware of what a wonderful piece of history they have, Knapp says.Originally crafted from cedar on oak, Conny has an overall length of 28 feet with a beam of six feet. Knapp believes the sister vessel is virtually identical.Now, Husky’s trail has led Knapp to Bainbridge Island – and to a dead end.The vessel’s last known owner was Dudley Davisson, whom Knapp terms a waterfront character, a self-described ‘pinheaded Norwegian with a size extra-large coat and size four hat.’Dudley had her out for opening day in 1971, and shortly after that he sold it to someone on Bainbridge Island, Knapp says. I have no other information, but would dearly love to know her fate.Is she stored in a boathouse somewhere on the island? Still in use? Or long ago burned to keep someone warm in the winter?While Husky’s travels remain a mystery, Knapp is well-versed in the history of his own boat. When the 1936 crew, which went on to win an Olympic gold medal, traveled to the East Coast for the IRA Regatta, Conny traveled in style in its own railroad car. But paying for the boat’s transportation left the rowers themselves strapped for cash.So they scrambled aboard the car in secret shortly before departure, and hid in various points on the boat, making the entire transcontinental crossing in those spartan accommodations. Bob Moch, the coxswain, still remembers sitting in the open doorway of that rail car as it rolled across Kansas, Knapp says.But despite several decades of faithful service to succeeding generations of UW oarsmen, Conny was not destined for a graceful retirement. In 1971, two crew members decided to take their dates out for an evening cruise on Lake Washington, and borrowed the boat without informing the coaches. With their attention on other matters, their vigilance waned and they were rammed by another boat. So Conny was hauled from the water, a waterlogged hulk that was left to rot in a storage yard near the UW driving range.Enter Knapp.He rowed for UW as a freshman in 1973, but says it was clear by the fall of 1974 that he wasn’t built to row.So I became team manager and general troublemaker for the next five years, he said. Midway through Knapp’s term at Huskyville, Dick Erickson, then the UW crew coach, asked him to provide some hardware for Husky II, a copy of the original boats that was at that time serving as the coaching launch.Take an ax and get what you need from Conny, Erickson said. What’s Conny? Knapp asked.Erickson told him. But after performing the hatchet job, Knapp became intrigued by the older vessel and asked why it hadn’t been maintained. Erickson could barely restrain his amusement. His job was turning boys into men, not restoring old boats, Knapp says.But Knapp was persistent, and with the aid of yard workers who neglected to lock the facility’s gate one Saturday, he became Conny’s owner. RelaunchedTwo decades later, he’d still done little except keep the boat upright and reasonably level. Then he met Dave Berg, a Bellingham man who expressed an interest in restoring the vessel.Knapp sold it to him, with the right of first refusal – a right he exercised moments after returning from Conny’s second maiden voyage in 1998, following Berg’s two-year restoration.The following day, he trailered it to Lake Washington and cruised to the crew house, from which the boat had set out 27 years earlier on what almost proved to be its final voyage.Since then, Knapp has taken the boat to many points in Washington and Canada. He’s trailered as far north as Desolation Sound, and maintains a Bainbridge connection by regularly using Conny to visit his parents, Bill and Barbara Knapp, who have lived in West Port Madison for over two decades.Through this wonderful old boat I have gained many new friends, Knapp says, and I still have to pinch myself to make sure it’s not just a dream.He does, however, have one dream. Conny has been restored to its former elegance; Husky II is undergoing restoration by Seattle Central Community College’s wooden boat school. So if Knapp can somehow find a seaworthy Husky, the three boats could proceed side by side through the Montlake Cut on opening day of boating season. They would be three testaments to the University of Washington rowing tradition. And to a bygone tradition of wooden boatbuilding.Is Husky, the long-lost sister, still on Bainbridge Island? Kirk Knapp can be reached at (360) 435-0766.