When he began his association with the sport that was to be his life, aged 14, he earned five shillings (25p) a week as a deckhand on the 96ft ketch Leander. He moved the following year to Clover, a double-ender, and his wages leapt to £1 with all found, but it was a hard life with early rising to scrub decks, leather the brightwork and polish the brass before breakfast.

John Millar took Parker to the USA and, after a season on Long Island Sound, returned him with ideas of making yacht fittings. It was the start that Owen needed and he went from Millar’s Avica Marine to Lewmar and then on to Montague Smith, distributors for Lewmar and Rylard Paints.

It was a career in which his personality opened doors, reinforced by his attention to detail. He knew everybody that mattered in the marine industry, and made sure that everyone knew him.

It also enabled him to apply for amateur status in sailing. After several seasons with Guy Bowles on a series of Sunmaids, he went to Australia with Edward Heath on the first Morning Cloud, aboard which he won the Sydney-Hobart. He told that when Heath was summoned to Government House for dinner, the skipper said: ‘There are six of us,’ and the entire crew went.

His association with the five Morning Clouds is what Owen was best known for. His ‘tack now, skipper,’ was almost a trademark while other stories are confirmed by his crewmates. That after calling ‘bear away, sir,’ and Heath luffing, he suggested that his skipper should ‘bear away the other way, sir,’ is true, as is the fact that he would put his foot on the bottom of the wheel to keep the boat on track when the skipper was distracted when acknowledging the greetings of others as the boat returned to its moorings after a race.

He was universally acclaimed as: ‘a bloody fine seaman,’ and will be missed throughout the sailing community.
Bob Fisher