The only problem with the then-president's speech, made on the eve of the 1962 America's Cup races, was that a large percentage of the U.S. population had never been on a sailboat.
Hayes, a member of the board at the Milwaukee Sailing Center, said in an interview that sailing suffered in the same way as hunting and fishing as families became more involved in activities such as soccer where parents acted as chauffeurs and cheerleaders rather as guides and co-participants.
"Instead of having your father or mother or an uncle teach you, kids learned how to hunt or fish or sail at a certification course," Hayes said.
In an attempt to resuscitate interest in sailing, those whose lives around the sport are trying to change its image.
Once considered a sport for the affluent dominated by the likes of television magnate and former major league baseball owner Ted Turner — a perception that many blue-collar sailors disdained — sailing's base is slowly moving away from tony suburban yacht clubs to more urban settings such as Baltimore's Downtown Sailing Center.
"I think the America's Cup — the old America's Cup — certainly had a mystique and attraction to it for the blue blazer set, but that isn't what got a lot of people involved in sailing," Kristen Berry, the center's executive director, said as he sat near the dock off Key Highway on a recent morning. "The freedom that comes from being on the water and get where you want to go being pushed by this invisible finger is what attracts most of us.
"For us, that's why we exist. It's about providing an opportunity for people to experience that."
Lee Tawney, executive director of the Annapolis-based National Sailing Center and Hall of Fame, said the mission of sailing is now simple.
"The bottom line is getting butts in the boats," Tawney said in an interview.
With that goal, the culture has undergone a noticeable shift. Evidence to that came last year, when for the first time in its 42-year history, Annapolis Race Week was run out of City Dock rather than the Annapolis Yacht Club.
"This was a private event that was held at a private yacht club on a hill, and you might have walked by on the street and seen all these people in the tents and you had no access to it. So we literally brought the event to the people," said Karen Masci, first-year president of the Chesapeake Bay Yacht Association, which runs Race Week.
The taking-it-to-the-masses mentality will be on display again later this week, when U.S. Sailing puts on small boat demonstrations as part of its Road Show, first at the Downtown Sailing Center and later at Race Week, a three-day amphibious festival that will bring between 175 to 200 boats as well as thousands of sailing fans to downtown Annapolis for competition and camaraderie.
Masci acknowledges that moving an event that had its roots in some of the area's private clubs was not easy and came only "after years of discussion" with club members and Annapolis city officials. Resistance came more from the city's former mayor than from what Masci called "the old guard" of sailors in the area.
Gary Jobson, the Annapolis sailor and Hall of Fame inductee who is now president of U.S. Sailing, said Race Week can play its part in a local rejuvenation.
"It's important to show off a little bit — see the boats, see the hubbub, kind of like being in the pits for a car race, you're a part of it," Jobson said. "And then you have people saying, 'Let's go do that — how do I get a sailing lesson?' "
Jobson and others credit community sailing centers such as Baltimore's for the recent spike in the sport's interest.
"Sailing has done a better job — not a perfect job — of making itself available to nonsailors or people who are curious about what the sport is all about," Jobson said.