Keith’s 46-inch striper ended up in second place overall, behind a 48-incher caught by Chris Staab; however, Keith did catch a 37.75-inch bluefish, the longest one taken in the tournament. But Walter also sees Greg as a big winner. “His goal, number one, was to raise money for the charity, and number two, to make this a catch-and-release tournament,” said Walter. “He achieved both goals. I told him I was proud of him.”
Like Greg, Walter is adamantly opposed to killing large striped bass. “I had an experience a few years ago fishing with two friends in a two-day tournament,” he said. “We came in at the end of the second day, and there must have been almost fifty fish lying dead on the docks: all these dead female striped bass. And all these guys were walking around saying, ‘Anyone want this?’ ‘Anyone want this fish?’ It was disgusting. I said to my friends, ‘I will never enter another kill tournament.’”
The problem with kill tournaments is that all too often people will bring in every decent-sized fish they catch in hopes that it will be a winner. If you have thirty boats competing, you could end up with thirty huge dead bass on the dock, but only one can win.
“Why kill those fish anyway?” said Walter. “They’re not as good to eat as smaller ones. A fillet on a big fish can be two inches thick. What are you going to do with that? And it also has a lot of mercury in it.”
Catch-and-release makes so much sense. And ironically, the Fishing for Cancer Tournament probably raised a lot more money than it would have had it been a kill tournament. Certainly Walter and some of the other top fishermen would not have entered it otherwise.
Greg’s greatest hope now is that tournaments like this will set an example that others will follow. He is determined to push tirelessly for the conservation of the striped bass.
Acknowledgments
I owe a deep debt of gratitude to the many people who helped me as I worked on this book, but especially Greg Myerson, whose friendship, strength, and generosity kept me going as I struggled through the darkest time of my life. I first met him six years ago when I was taking my son Jack, a high school senior, to look at Wesleyan University, not far from where Greg lived. At first I wasn’t sure if I would take on this project, writing the story of Greg’s life, but after talking with him for a couple of hours I realized what a remarkable person he is, with a backstory much larger and more compelling than the fact that he caught a record-breaking striped bass.
As Jack and I drove home the next day in a blizzard, I mentally sketched out the structure of the book, eager to start working on a proposal to present to publishers. I had no way of knowing that this would be the last trip my son and I would ever take together. Barely three months later, my wife and I and our three daughters faced the most devastating tragedy of our lives. Jack was dead—and worse, he had taken his own life. Sorrow hung over us like a dense shroud for months as we teetered at the edge of despair with no end in sight.
One of the first things I did was to call Greg and say I would not be able to write this book. Indeed, I doubted I would ever write anything again. I told him he would have no trouble finding someone else to take over the project. But Greg wouldn’t hear of it. He said I was the only person he wanted to write his story. “Take five years, six years, as long as you want,” he said. “And you can dedicate the book to Jack.”
Greg once told me that I had saved his life when I drove him to a hospital emergency room late one night. But really, it was Greg who saved my life. He picked me up from the ground in my moment of deepest desolation and kept me going. Without his help, I know I would never have written this or any other future books, and for that I am eternally grateful.
I also thank everyone who allowed me to interview them, including many of Greg’s family members and friends—especially Walter Anderson and Stephen Hoag. And I thank everyone at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt who helped me with this book, especially executive editor Lisa White, who also worked with me on two previous books, The Grail Bird and Falcon Fever, and is a good friend. I am indebted to my literary agent, Russ Galen, for his expert advice throughout this project and also for being the person who first told me about Greg and set up our introduction.
Above all, I thank my wife, Rachel Dickinson—an author herself, who read early drafts of the book and offered solid advice and encouragement—and my daughters, Railey, Clara, and Gwen. Without their support, none of this would have been possible.
About the Author
Tim Gallagher is an award-winning writer, magazine editor, and wildlife photographer. He is the author of four narrative nonfiction books: Parts Unknown, about his expeditions to remote areas in northern Greenland, Iceland, and other places; The Grail Bird, which details his role in the rediscovery of the ivory-billed woodpecker, a species that had not had a confirmed sighting since 1944; Falcon Fever, about his lifelong fascination with falconry; and Imperial Dreams, on chasing the ghost of the long-lost imperial woodpecker through the mountainous drug country of northern Mexico. He lives in Freeville, New York.
Greg Myerson is a born fisherman who has spent the bulk of his life trying to figure out how to catch more and bigger fish. He has won Angler of the Year three years in a row. More recently, he appeared on Shark Tank, where Mark Cuban enthusiastically financed his invention, an innovative lure for attracting striped bass. He lives in Wallingford, Connecticut.
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