In the year of our Lord 1975, or indeed in any year preceding the year of our Lord, 1975, St. Edmund’s House College (henceforth referred to as St. Eddies) did not have a crew on the river.  Or rather, to be more precise, St. Edmund’s had a boat that rowed on the river, but that boat was not allowed to row in the May Bumps.  That may have been a good thing as it was leaky old tub commonly dubbed the “BA Ordinary.” In order to attain such a privilege, a crew would have had to endure a horrific ordeal, i.e. the May Bumps Getting-On Race (MBG-0R) to determine if such crew was worthy.  St. Eddies (quite rightly at the time) deemed itself unworthy, or at least knew full well that we would not meet the challenge. Technically, MBG-0R is described as follows:
 
Where there are more crews entering the Bumps than there are places on the River, the lowest crews must compete for places in the Getting-On Race. Crews are removed from the lowest division such that there is one place available in the Bumps for every two crews competing in the Getting-On Race (up to a maximum of 17 places). Crews are timed from the upstream side of the A14 Road Bridge to the upstream side of the Railway Bridge and the fastest will qualify for places in the Bumps. [3]
 
In order to get our boat into the Bumps, the Overall Captain (actually the only Captain) of the St. Eddies Boat Club was Robert Demers. Robert was a brilliant, handsome French Canadian attorney and Ph.D student.  There are those who would also add extremely entertaining, rather cutting and somewhat unscrupulous.  I personally found him great company as long as I was not the subject of his witty banter; then not so much.  In any case, I have heard that Robert wined and dined the Captains of the Boat Clubs, or perhaps it was the Executive Committee of the CUCBC.  While in the throws of an excellent evening of clever repartee (the verbatim account describes this as “stinking drunk” but then I was not there myself), the Captains or Executive Committee or whoever was under the influence of Monsieur Demers, decided that every College would be allowed to have one boat participate in the Bumps without running the gauntlet of the MBG-0R.
 
That, or something like that, is how St. Eddies was first allowed to put an oar in the water at the May Bumps.
 
We had other obstacles to overcome before May, however. First, we needed a new old boat. Somehow we managed to scrounge a fairly decent (i.e. not leaky) boat from some other kind college (I don’t remember which one if, indeed, I ever knew).  Second, we needed to practice … a lot.  Tyndel, Barratt and Halliday were certainly able oarsmen.  Mesch and Stoeger, being Americans, were reluctantly admitted to be surprising good at it.  Hauk, having tried out for the German Olympic Decathlon Team, was certainly the strongest of us.  We needed to keep this strength in check to keep us from rowing in circles.  He once cracked an oar in half with one mighty pull (I am not making this up; I was there sitting right in front of him).  I was, well, let’s just say I earned a trophy from the Club for “most improved crew member.

​The first two days of the Bumps passed in somewhat of a blur.  We were astonished to find out that Clare VI and Downing V were not that good and we were not at all as inept as the other crews thought we were.  To elaborate: NONE of the crews wanted to be bumped by us. ALL of the crews thought it unfair that we splashed into the May Bumps without running the gauntlet of the MBG-0R.  Only after great reluctance and a certain amount of exasperated insistence on the part of the judges did these crews finally pull to one side and admit the St. Eddies had indeed bested them.  The third day Fitzwilliam VI was determined that they would not endure the humiliation.  ¡Non pasarán! But we did pass; they did not give; we passed some more; they ignored us and the judges. We ran their boat and their butts up into the trees on the side of the bank.  They conceded. 

 We were now at the head of our division (the bottom division, that is) and only needed to not get run up into the trees ourselves.  Things were going smoothly until our coach, Mr. Bruce Elsmore, could be heard shouting, “Number 5, reach out; lean back.”  Then silence from our leader; then, “Keep it up; keep it up.”  The unlikely occurred.  The seat upon which the able bottom of number 5 resided broke.  It froze up.  It would not move and number 5 wound up sitting on the rails, manfully trying to keep the pace with the other crew members.  ¡Non pasarán!  And no one did pass.  We won our oar.
 
Champagne greeted us at the boat club.  The Master, Canon Sweeney, was beside himself with joy.  One of his greatest hopes was that St. Eddies would one day, perhaps during his day, win an oar.  He was near tears.  I am not making this up; I was there.  He quickly arranged a banquet.  Meanwhile, number 5 was helped out of the boat. He had trouble walking and hurt in places where he did not know (until then) that he had places.

The banquet was a huge success.  Monsieur Demers was carried into the hall (he could not walk on his own; the drinking had been going on for hours).  The Master, beaming, mumbled appreciative words.  Our Captain was singled out for praise for without his wiles, we would not have been in the Bumps at all.  Mr. Elsmore was lauded for turning us into a passable [4] crew.  Mesch’s leadership, Tyndal’s steady hand, Stoeger’s calm assurance, Barratt’s style, Halliday’s experience and Hauck’s strength were enthusiastically lauded.  Macy’s ample foundation and stubborn doggedness were gratefully recognized as well.
 
So that is what actually and truly happened.  All other rumors, innuendos, insinuations, and snide comments should now be forever silenced.  Unless, of course, other members of that famous crew remember things differently. In which case, the College should assemble the remnant; provide them with the accommodations and libations necessary to undertake the recreation of St. Eddies’ spectacular entry into the history of crew at Cambridge.  I urge you, in memory and imitation of Robert Demers, to spare no expense in the effort. ​​