September, 89-year-old Bruce Kirby leans against the
pinstriped first-mate’s seat of Lulu as it motors in slow
circles on Long Island Sound. Just outside the elegantly
varnished cockpit, a fleet of small sailboats races by, its
formation loose and shifting. Kirby follows the boats
through a pair of binoculars. One,Jack, belongs to him;
he’d be out there competing if it weren’t for his ailing
back. But all of the boats are Kirby’s design.
Known as Sonars, Kirby drew their shape in 1979 with a
day just like this in mind. The Noroton Yacht Club, Kirby’s
home port in the suburban town of Darien, Connecti-
cut, wanted a craft for its members to race—something
nimble and fast, but also sturdy and well-behaved. The
Sonar is a “one-design boat,” meaning its specifications
and equipment are governed by strict rules to ensure that
competing in one is a test of skill, not money. Sailing re-
mains a sport of the wealthy, and left unchecked, they can
take things to extremes. The superyachts of the America’s
Cup have nine-figure R&D budgets, and crews who wear
crash helmets and body armor to protect themselves
at new limits of speed and performance. In contrast, a
used Sonar can be had for under $10,000, and is stable
enough that it’s been used by Paralympians since the
50 SPRING 2019 • POPSCI.COM
2000 games. Out on the sound that afternoon, 37 boats
are vying for the Sonar North American Championship,
with a few former Olympians among the skippers. The
whole event is buoyed by Kirby’s presence.
Kirby is a world-class sailor and Olympian himself—he
represented Canada in ’56, ’64, and ’68—but he is most
famous as the designer of a slew of boats known for their
swiftness, and also their clarity and simplicity. The epit-
ome of his ethos was a blockbuster, one that defined his
career and the course of sailing more broadly: the single-
person racing dinghy known as the Laser.BACK ON LAND, KIRBY LOOKS ON AS THE
competitors come off the water, windblown and skipping
toward the toilets. A collision left one Sonar with a dinner-
plate-size hole in its stern, and Kirby leans in for a closer
look. The regatta’s press person asks him to do it again for
the camera. During the awards ceremony, organizers call
Kirby up to the stage for pictures with the winners, and
the photographer makes everyone take off their shades,
“ except the rock star; he can leave his on.” The teasing is
apt; among sailors, there are few bigger celebrities than
Bruce Kirby. He comes by their affection honestly. HisON A
GRAY
SLATE-
DAY IN
OPENING^SPREAD:^ MIKEEHRMANN/GETTYIMAGES