News > Press Room
7-17-2004
Brad Van Liew
Solo sailing racer, head of S.C.'s tall ship
project, has a way of making
dreams happen
by Daniel Conover
of The Post and Courier staff
His failure was more than disappointing: It was personally disorienting.
Brad Van Liew just wasn't accustomed to falling short. Hadn't his
parents always told him there was nothing a man couldn't accomplish
so long as he set his mind to it and worked hard? He'd always been
successful in the past, whether it was at football or motocross or
crewing on racing yachts. Now reality struck hard.
But it was over, and nothing was going to change that. Van Liew
had not only dropped out of college after announcing to everyone
that he was racing around the world alone, he had spent every dime
of his education trust fund on the attempt -- not to mention the
money he had raised by selling his old boat, or the money he'd managed
to borrow.
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ALAN HAWES/STAFF |
Brad Van Liew, a Californian who raced around the world
twice before making the Low country his home, stands in front
of his next challenge: The Spirit of South Carolina tall ship
project. Van Liew was named executive director of the S.C.
Maritime Heritage Foundation earlier this year. |
It wasn't enough. Not enough cash. Not enough yacht. Not enough
team, not enough sponsorship, not enough equipment, not enough experience.
Van Liew's campaign to join the 1990 BOC Challenge -- a circumnavigational
solo sailing race -- had failed. After months of struggling, he didn't
have a legitimate chance at even starting the race, much less finishing
it, and it was time to cut his losses.
Humiliation dogged him. Everyone in the East Coast sailing crowd
knew about the brash Californian's quest. Once he had seemed a bold
young rebel. Now he just looked foolish.
"I called Mom. I said, 'You're right, I was wrong. I've destroyed
everything.' "
That's fine, his parents said, but there were no offers to pay
his way back into the University of Southern California.
Van Liew tucked his tail between his legs, talked his grandmother
into helping him with tuition, returned to college and churned out "acceptable
grades" as he worked toward a career in real estate development. "I
just decided, 'All right, I'm going to grow up now.' I tried to make
a dream come true, and I couldn't."
He swore he was finished with around-the-world solo racing.
But he wasn't. His dream wasn't dead -- it was just dormant, biding
its time, waiting for the right alignment of stars and tides.
TALL SHIP
After two successful solo races around the world, Van Liew of 2004
looks older than his 36 years. The sandy-blond mop he sported before
departing Charleston on the first leg of the 1998 Around Alone has
gone gray. His muscular torso is thicker now.
But as he shows a visitor around the silent shipyard that encloses
the Spirit of South Carolina project, Van Liew commands the kind
of credibility that only achievement can bring. Other people have
talked about this project -- its value, its vision, its practicality,
its timetable -- but none of them have ever faced lonely death in
the Southern Ocean, or won every single leg of the world's longest
race.
Somewhere between his debacle in 1990 and his triumph in 2003,
Van Liew figured out the difference between a dreamer and a doer.
Whatever that something is, he wears it like his ruddy skin now.
The next stage of his life will be played out in this shipyard,
where the 4-year-old effort to build a $3 million 1850s-era pilot
schooner stalled in 2002. As envisioned by the South Carolina Maritime
Heritage Foundation, the Spirit of South Carolina will become a floating
classroom, a resource for the state's children, an ambassador to
the world.
Van Liew, the foundation's new executive director, is the man in
charge of making it happen.
The schooner's naked hull still resembles the skeleton of a long-dead
whale, but appearances can be deceiving, Van Liew says. "Just
because there's no sawdust flying, that doesn't mean there's nothing
going on.
"This project needed reorganization, and we needed to get
it organized in a way that was more sellable. That was Job No. 1.
Job No. 2 was to get out and sell it, which is what we're doing right
now."
His pitch for the project mixes feel-good phrases with a cold-eyed,
business-minded practicality. It's a convincing performance, delivered
with a jut-jawed confidence. Sure there are risks and obstacles,
but overcoming risks and obstacles is Brad and wife Meaghan Van Liew's
business.
And the future? Well, in his eyes, this schooner is just the beginning.
THE GOLDEN AGE
Meaghan's introduction to Brad came during the 1992 Los Angeles
riots, which caused the evacuation of the University of Southern
California campus. Meaghan camped out at a friend's apartment in
Palm Springs along with a group of fellow students, and they were
lounging around the pool when up walks barrel-chested, thick-necked
Brad -- a rifle in one hand and a beer keg in the other.
By the time classes reopened three days later, Brad and Meaghan
were a couple.
"We were both very much not looking for a relationship," said
Meaghan, who was just 10 days away from graduating when the Rodney
King verdict and Brad Van Liew interrupted her senior year. "It
was very much a surprise.
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