The Wizard of El Sobrante
by Shimon Van Collie

Latitude 38
June, 1994

Ask any veteran Bay Area sailor to name the most influential local yacht designers of the past two decades and you’ll end up with a familiar list: Gary Mull, Bill Lee, George Olson, Ron Moore, Carl Schumacher, Tom Wylie, Chuck Burns. One who might or might not make the list is Jim Antrim, which just goes to show that perception doesn’t always match reality.

If anyone has mastered the art of producing the excellence of the “usual subjects’ while not drawing too much attention to himself, it’s James K. Antrim. Tongue in check, he’s known as “The Wizard of El Sobrante,” a reference to his sagacity and to the small Contra Costa County hamlet where he works and resides near San Pablo Dam with his wife, Cheryl, and two daughters, Sommer, 13 and Kaeli, 9. Possessing a 20-year resume that includes working on two America’s Cup design teams, 52 boats ranging from IOR Half Tonners to single-handed dinghies, the U.S.-to-Japan speed record holding Trimaran Aotea and a new 30-foot production Trimaran, Antrim could be the Bay Area sailing scene’s best kept secret.

To those who know and have sailed with the quiet, dark-haired 43-year-old with the bushy moustache and piquant sense of humor, Antrim is just as much an asset on board as he is at the drawing board. “Jim’s little shy if he doesn’t know you,” says Oakland sailmaker Kame Richards, with whom Antrim set a new course record for the Doublehanded Lightship race, “but not otherwise. As a sailing companion, it’s hard to imagine anyone better. He can handle his job and half of yours if something goes wrong.”

We recently took a trip to Antrim’s home base, a cozy, lived-in abode built during the Eisenhower years in a development that fashions itself after Robin Hood’s Sherwood Forest. Out back, at the corner of Nottingham and Archery Way, nestled next to a towering pine, is Antrim’s new office. Jim built much of the square wooden structure himself. Also occupying the backyard are a couple of plastic-wrapped Wing Dinghies, a horse-headed see-saw, a small brood of rabbits and a friendly old dog named Sookie.

Inside, the combination kitchen/living room space yielded a few more indicators of the Antrim mystique. An electric guitar sat poised for amplification in one corner. Stacked next to the dining table were some volumes on Mozart. “I tend to play rock and roll on the guitar and classical music on the piano,” Antrim admits almost reluctantly. “I keep at it enough to amuse myself and sometimes give the kids lessons when they’re interested.”

On the walls are family photos, including one of Jim’s rather large collection of brothers (four) and sisters (two) and along with various in-laws and his parents. His father Bill gets some credit for Jim’s interest in sailing, which started as family project when they moved from New York to Nahant, a shoreline community just north of Boston back in the 1950’s.

Bill Antrim had an itch to go sailing, largely since it wouldn’t cost as much as buying gas for a powerboat. He soon purchased a 170 foot lapstrake wooden sloop, which was named Kiki after one of Jim’s sisters. Father Antrim modified the craft for cruising, adding a cabin for sleeping and a keel to replace the centerboard. The latter was hinged to the bottom of the keelson so it could be raised for beaching or gunkholing.

In an article he wrote about Kiki in 1982 for Rudder magazine, Bill Antrim described “one early memorable cruise (on which) I took my number two son, Jim.” The two – Jim was 7 at the time – set off up the coast of Massachusetts, spent the night at Gloucester Harbor and beat their way back in a nasty southwester. On the latter leg, Jim and his old man traded the helm while the other bailed to keep the leaky, torquing hull afloat.

Jim’s memories of the outing focus more on what didn’t happen, which was that he missed his first Sunday Mass. In his young mind, committing such a sin was not to be taken lightly. “I really struggled over whether or not to go with my Dad,” he recalls. “The odd thing was, the priest died of a heart attack at the pulpit that day. I remember being sorry I missed that!”

Religion’s loss was sailing’s gain, and many cruises followed. Bill Antrim traded up to other boats, including a 25’ Alden design on which Jim and his siblings cruised the New England coast. The kids also had their own craft. Jim and his older brother Sean spent many hours racing a 9-ft Turnabout dinghy. He was also known to take off for a nearby island, spend the night in the little boat and return in the morning.

Boats occupied Jim’s mind even when he wasn’t on the water. At 13, he thought he wanted to become an aeronautical engineer, but two years later he decided boats would be more fun. He’d been sketching sail plans and interiors since he was a tyke. One of his earliest cabin arrangements, in fact, including a playroom for his toys. “I always thought it was an oversight by other designers not to included room for them,” he remembers.

Once Dad informed him that people who design sailboats are called naval architects, Jim’s path was established. In 1968, he entered the Webb Institute of Naval Architecture in Glen Cove, New York. Along with MIT and the University of Michigan, this was the only school in the country offering an undergraduate degree in the subject. Part of the ‘Webbies’ curriculum includes real world experiences, which for Jim meant a stint as a seaman in South America and a summer as a ship fitter’s apprentice in Southern California.

Yacht design, however, was the goal. Prior to his senior year, Jim served an apprenticeship as designer and draftsman for Dick Carter, one of the hit IOR designers of that era. Jim’s graduate thesis reflected that influence: “An Investigation of Sailing Hull Design to the International Offshore Rule, Mark III.” He also found a spot on the foredeck of designer Brit Chance’s racing yacht Fling, a move which he parlayed into a four year job at Chance’s Oyster Bay, New York, design office after graduation.

The experience with Chance provided valuable experience. Jim assumed the role of optimizing Chance’s designs on FORTRAN computers, predicting performance and analyzing tank tests. His timing, however, left something to be desired. Their first big project together was the ill-fated 12 Meter Mariner which Chance designed for Ted Turners 1974 America’s Cup bid. Long on theory (Chance’s strength) and short on performance, Mariner featured one of the oddest sterns ever seen in yacht design. The squared off rear end of the underbody was supposed to keep water flow attached to the hull longer than other pinched-in designs. However, as Turner himself pointed out, “Even a turd is tapered at both ends.”

Antrim survived the disaster, and helped Chance redeem himself with boats like Huey Long’s maxi Ondine, One Ton world champion Resolute Salmon and the 46-foot IOR sloop Bay Bea. For Resolute Salmon, Jim discovered a loophole in the IOR formula that gave credit for lightweight centerboards in boats with combination keel/centerboard configurations. The resulting design had more draft for the same stability as other boats at the same rating and was very fast upwind.

After four years, Jim felt he’d maximized his return with Chance and headed west. The only other designer he wanted to work with was Oakland’s Gary Mull. In 1976, Jim joined the locus of Bay Area, if not West Coast, yacht design. For the next three years, he drew the hull lines for most of the 30 designs created by Mull’s office. He was also responsible for construction drawings, deck layouts and accommodation plans. He even wrote a computer program on performance and rating analysis called, in the puckish humor that characterized Mull’s style, “The Secret of Yacht Design.”

Temperamentally on the opposite side of the room from the tempestuous Mull, Antrim’s quiet wit nevertheless made an impression. Carl Schumacher, the Alameda designer who was also working with Mull at the time, recalls an early morning staff meeting on the way to taking Mull to the airport. Coming down Berkeley’s University Avenue to the freeway onramp, the team saw a hitchhiker standing with a sign that read simply ‘Santa Barbara.’ “It was Jim’s second day on the job,” Schumacher recalls, “and no one really knew him. From his corner of the back seat we heard him say: ‘Santa Barbara. Hmmm. Must be the long lost cousin of Santa Claus.’”

In 1979, Jim Antrim, Naval Architect, finally hung out his own shingle.

The vagaries of yacht design have been such that his career has ventured into many diverse areas. Jim’s design credits include an IOR Half Tonner that nor races in Osaka Bay, Japan, a 55-foot cruising powerboat, a 22-foot rigid inflatable, the high-performance racer/cruiser Antrim 20 sloop and a 26 foot open water rowing shell.

He’s also helped finish, redesign and alter other craft, including Clive King’s Roberts 53 steel cruiser, Ron Moore’s Ultimate 20, Carl Schumacher’s 44-foot Eclipse (now Full Nelson), even San Francisco’s historic paddle-wheel ferry Eureka. On the latter, Jim consulted on the engineering of the ship’s recent refurbishment. “I’m the guy who figured out how many miles of caulking they’d need and how many nail holes were in the hull,” he says.

“I’ve learned that to make it as a naval architect, sometimes you just have to hang on, “ he adds. “Which is fine with me because I’ve never wanted to do anything else.”

“Jim’s willing to take on a challenge,” notes Schumacher, “and he’s not put off by an oddball project.”

All naval architects have stories of odd projects, but Antrim can lay claim to perhaps the oddest of all: the Water Walker, a collapsible, portable, inflatable catamaran. The brainchild of a San Francisco general contractor, the craft (see photos) was intended for casual sailing and camping on inland waterways. Designing it proved to be quite a task, according to Jim, but to his credit he did get at least one fully functional boat finished before the contractor pulled the plug for financial reasons.

Jim doesn’t regret such experiences. Quite the opposite, in fact, since he always figures he learns something. But with the Water Walker, he also received credit for two patents used in the design of the craft, one for the way it folded up and the other for using the wheels as keels. The patent examiner gave them a rough time on the latter though, pointing to the other craft that had retractable trailer wheels that were vaguely similar. Jim argues that his version was unique. Finally, the examiner gave him a tip. “He told me that if I put a pint in the wheel so that it wouldn’t spin, then he could give me the patent,” says Jim. “So one of my claims to fame is rights to the first wheel that doesn’t rotate!”

In addition to boat design, Jim has developed a specialty in composite engineering. In 1984, he began a five-year consulting contract with Orcon Corporation, a Union City high tech materials company. Much of the work involved developing hull laminates for a wide range of craft, including ultralight sleds, IOR One Tonners, Formula 40 catamarans, rowing shells and racing a cruising powerboats. Other tasks included boat parts, such as carbon fiber masts and rudder posts and crossbeams for multihulls, as well as composite auto bodies, skateboards, a helicopter rotor and a bicycle used by the Olympic team.

For many years, however, the one thing Antrim didn’t have, except for the 15-foot singlehanded Wing Dinghy (which enjoyed only a short production life in the early 1980s) was a signature design or production boat. Mull had his Santanas, Wylie had his Hawkfarms, Lee had Merlin, but Antrim, well…


All that changed in 1990 when the 40-ft Trimaran Aotea hit the water. The yacht’s inception actually dated back to 1988 when Mill Valley’s Peter Hogg was introduced to Antrim, who expressed an interest in designing him a trimaran. Hogg’s craft at the time was another Multihull, the 40-foot catamaran Tainui, designed by the legendary Dick Newick. While Hogg appreciated the boat’s design, he had encountered structural problems. He also had trouble being so far away from Newick, who resides in New England, and the builder, who had his shop in West Virgina.

Hogg’s efforts to sell Tainui were neatly resolved when he hit a whale on the ’88 Windjammers race to Santa Cruz and totaled the boat. “We didn’t do it on purpose,” Hogg laughs, “but it was a blessing in disguise.” Although Antrim’s Multihull experience was limited, Hogg chose him as the designer because of his strong background in structural engineering. The third member of the team was builder Marc Ginesty, an expert in multihull construction. Together the trio worked well, producing a state-of-the-art singlehanded racing machine. The boat was launched on April Fools Day, 1990.

“Part of the reason things came together so well was that Jim was open to Marc’s ideas about simplifying the construction process,” says Hogg. “For example, the main panels for the sides of the hull were laid up flat and vacuum bagged on formica tables. We then torqued them into position and they required no fairing at all. Things like that saved tons of time and money.”

Aotea proved her worth right off by winning first-to-finish honors in the 1990 Singlehanded Transpac. In 1992, Peter set a new record of just over 34 days for the San Francisco to Japan passage. Aotea is also the boat Antrim and Richards used to notch this year’s Doublehanded Lightship mark. Peter is currently preparing the boat for the upcoming Singlehanded Transpac, where he hopes to get the breeze to threaten the 10-day, 10-hour race record set in 1986.

Despite her speed and accomplishments, Hogg feels the boat is sailing at only 60 percent of its potential for lack of any real competition. It has, however, put Antrim on the map. When Cape Horn sailor Isabelle Autissier and her French crew (who possess considerable bluewater multihull experience) saw Aotea sitting on her mooring off Tiburon, they expressed amazement that such a sophisticated vessel could have been designed by an American!

Aotea’s follow-up has been the Antrim 30+, a smaller, production version that incorporates several of the design concepts of the bigger boat. The first prduction edition, which was built by Alameda Multihulls, is now sailing. Looking not unlike Luke Skywalker’s Jedi fighter, the 31-footer has folding amas that reduce its beam to 10 feet beam for trailering, and cruising accommodations below the hull. It also has a top speed somewhere near 25 knots, which should keep the speed freaks grinning for a while.

Meanwhile, there are bills to pay and other jobs to complete. When Bill Koch needed someone to do composite engineering for his 1992 America’s Cup effort, Jim spent five months in Rhode Island cranking out numbers for deck laminates, chainplates, keel support structures and hatches. The latter provided a bit of amusement, at least to Jim. Since the entire belowdecks was cloaked in black carbon fibers, the syndicate brass wondered if he could design a hatch made with translucent S-glass to let in a little light for the sewer personnel. When Antrim calculated that the resulting structure would weight 4 ½ pounds more then the opaque carbon fiber version, “The said to hell with it!’

Other projects now occupy his drawing table. One is redesigning of a Mull 27-foot ultralight with a lifting bulb keel and an asymmetrical kite. Others include a carbon wishbone boom for the Wylie Cat 39, a new keel and rudder for the Frers F3 Surefire, some more work on the Ultimate 20 and a 37-foot cruising catamaran.

“I still like monohulls,” Jim says, “but the improvements possible in single hull performance are limited. There’s much more room for progress in multihulls. They’re more challenging design-wise and they’re more thrilling to sail.”

Hogg has another scheme that includes Antrim and may provide thrills on a megascale. There’s talk of a turn-of-the-century race around the globe for the 10 fastest yachts in the world. The French plan to enter a 140-foot schooner rigged catamaran, figuring that bigger is better. Hogg things a 65-ft, foil-borne multihull is the smarter and faster way to go. In 15 knots of breeze, the craft could approach 30 knots of speed as it lifts out of the water. For rough weather in the Southern Ocean, the boat would drop off the foils and proceed as a normal multihull. Hogg thinks such a boat would demonstrate the superiority of American technology, and his designer of choice would be Jim Antrim.

Such a project would be somehow fitting for the Wizard of El Sobrante, who has all the earmarks of a 20-year overnight success. He’s definitely done his homework and proven both his tenacity and his diversity. About the only challenge he hasn’t faced yet is how to deal with being ‘known’. Somehow, we’ve a feeling it won’t be long after his mettle is tested in that area, too.

-shimon van collie