National Geographic : 1963 Jan
National Geographic, January, 1963 they skimmed against a background of hand some apartment houses. The mid-city sailing program, my friend explained, was sponsored by the newspaper Politiken, with other business firms cooper ating. The aim: to indoctrinate boys, even before they reach their teens, in the feel of sea and wind. "These boys may not know it," Mr. Ras mussen said, "but they're training to become useful citizens. Later, you may find them on the bridges and in the engine rooms of Danish ships. Maritime commerce we take very seri ously, for without it we could not live." Copenhagen is wedded to the sea. This was emphasized again when I talked a few days later with Arnold Peter M0ller (be low). Eighty-six-year-old "A. P." may be the world's only multimillionaire who sails a boat to and from work every day, fair weath er or foul. I found A. P. in his office overlooking Kon Sailing to work, 86-year-old shipowner A. P. Miller epitomizes the average Dane's lifelong love affair with the sea. gens Nytorv, the bustling King's New Square. From this command post he directs an empire - shipyards, refineries, petrochemical plants, a sugar plantation in Kenya, and the Maersk Line's 80-odd freighters and tankers on round-the-world service. We chatted a while; then my host looked at his watch and at an instrument on his desk whose twin dials told him the wind direction and velocity. "Four o'clock," he said, rising to his six foot-three-inch height. "The wind is from the south; 15 knots. A fair wind. Shall we go?" Scorning an elevator, he darted down two flights of stairs. A chauffeur handed us into a venerable gray Citroen. Sign of Prosperity: Jammed Traffic As we moved off, A. P. glared at surging masses of automobiles, trucks, buses, motor scooters, and bicycles. Tooting and hooting, these symbols of prosperity funneled through the streets. Customs duties and other taxes double the list price of an automobile. Yet, among the 1,263,000 residents of the capital and suburbs, one in every eight owns a car. As for Copenhagen's bicycles, nobody knows precisely how many there are, perhaps 300,000. At rush hours, bikes and riders erupt with a cheery jingling of bells into H. C. An dersen's Boulevard and other busy streets. "There," said A. P., gesturing toward a clogged intersection, "is why I sail to and from work." It was an in-and-out day-bright sun one minute, pelting rain the next-typical of the fleeting Scandinavian summer. At Langelinie, the lush green park that fronts on Copenha gen's harbor, a man in yellow oilskins met us with a dinghy at the quayside. He rowed us through a heavy downpour to Mr. Miller's 60-foot auxiliary cutter, Karama III. (Continued on page 53) Perched on a Rock, The Little Mermaid Drinks in the Sea With Pensive Eyes Denmark's most photographed girl, the her oine of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale about an aquatic beauty who fell in love with a prince, watches over Copenhagen harbor. Sculptor Edvard Eriksen executed the graceful bronze figure. Sitting in the sun, she looks as though she had just slipped out of the waves. Shipbuilding yards of Bur meister & Wain, Denmark's largest indus trial plant, loom across the harbor. KODACHROMEBY GILBERT M. GROSVENOR, NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC STAFF © N.G.S.