Zane Grey

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Zane Grey Page 19

by Thomas H. Pauly


  Much to everyone’s surprise, including Zane’s, The Lone Star Ranger (1915), with its hastily arranged marriage of two disliked serials, was his first novel to reach the number-one position on the Bookman monthly list, and the first one to make the annual list, position number eight.33 Although the original “The Last of the Duanes” did not have as much violence as To the Last Man (1922), it represented an important first step in this direction. Sensing that attention-getting action was more important to readers and filmmakers than plausibility, Grey injected more “Perils of Pauline” and “Jim Dandy to the Rescue” into his next stories, notably The U. P. Trail (1918).

  Meanwhile, throughout his early discussions with Bob Davis about book ideas and movie contracts, Grey withheld discussion of his fishing. Finally, in a letter in September 1915, he erupted, “Bob, you never knew I was a fisherman. Dog gone you! I’ll simply make you ill. I broke all the records. What’s more I have the only photographs ever secured of the great swordfish in action. One charging the boat!”34 Actually, Davis did know that Grey was a fisherman, and had even gone fishing with him, but these excursions dated from three years before when Zane was less experienced and more reticent. Several months prior to their first outing together in 1912, Grey wrote to Dolly from Long Key, “I don’t care to fish like I used to. I hate to do it.”35 At the time he was discouraged because he kept losing fish that “brutes” with rude equipment landed easily and in great numbers. His first fishing trip with Davis was even more embarrassing. While Zane left his rod unattended to rummage in his gear bag for a piece of equipment, a fish hooked itself, bolted, and pulled his rig overboard.36

  Later that same fall, Grey, Davis, Eltinge Warner, and several other experienced anglers went fishing out of Seabright, New Jersey. After several hours with no success, they spotted a school of porpoises and decided to strike one with a harpoon attached to a line from Grey’s rod and reel. For an hour, he futilely strained the porpoise to the boat, and the fish kept towing their dory farther out to sea. When it eventually surfaced, one of the men shot it, causing the wounded fish to erupt into a palsied frenzy and go limp. After Grey exhausted himself hauling it to the boat, the porpoise suddenly revived and thrashed violently. More gunshots and a massive hemorrhage finally killed the fish and allowed Grey to prevail.37

  Assuming the role of “historian for the first porpoise club,” Davis wrote a humorous account of the experience for Field and Stream, and posted an advance copy to the Tuna Club in Catalina. As Davis anticipated, the club secretary found himself in an awkward position since the tactics of these anglers flagrantly violated its rules against harpooning, shooting, and maiming a catch. Had they been Tuna Club members, the catch would have been disqualified and they would probably have been censured. Unwilling to brand strangers ignoramuses, a club representative sent back a cautious letter noting that he too had caught a porpoise—with regulation tackle of a 16-OZ. rod and 24-strand line—and that he knew of several porpoises that had been harpooned. Davis and Warner published the letter in the same issue that carried his article.38 They, of course, knew about the rules, thought them silly, and were delighted with their exposure of the club’s stuffiness.

  This spoof was also an envious acknowledgment of the Tuna Club’s stature and authority. At the time, Grey quietly sided with the pranksters, and said nothing about his earlier Tampico experiences. Later that same year, when he caught a ninety-pound tuna, he did not bother to inform Davis, but he did seek recognition for his accomplishment. Well aware that Field and Stream had recently expanded its coverage of “prize fish” to saltwater fish,39 he persuaded Warner to proclaim him the winner of the “First Grand Prize—Atlantic Tuna Class, 1912,” and wrote an article about the catch for the September 1913 issue.40

  Grey’s next two visits to Long Key increased his experience and bolstered his ambition. In 1913, he wrote Dolly from Long Key that he had caught three “swordfish.”41 Although these were probably sailfish, he was succeeding with large, acrobatic fish and eager to catch even bigger ones. Following his 1914 visit to Long Key, he decided to try Catalina that summer. Having been intimidated by the intense competitiveness of the Tuna Club ever since his first visit eight years before, he puffed his new confidence into a foolish swagger. Prior to his first day of fishing, he visited the official taxidermist for the Tuna Club and arranged a mounting for his first marlin. Taken aback by Grey’s presumptuousness, Charles Parker advised him to catch one first. Grey soon discovered that the challenge far exceeded his expectation. After twenty-one days and 1,500 miles of trolling, he had not hooked a single one. Finally, on the twenty-fifth day, one snatched his bait, performed dazzling leaps, and broke free. When his allotted time was up, he sheepishly returned and canceled the mounting.42

  Grey was chagrined over his failure, but he also realized that Catalina fishing involved a steep learning curve. Up to this point, his saltwater angling had been done from rowboats and the dories long favored by the commercial fisherman from Seabright, New Jersey. His articles on his porpoise outing and his record tuna contain photographs that illustrate not only the boats he used, but also the way he fished. On both trips, Grey held his rod and shifted his position in order to maintain a tight line and good leverage. One photograph shows him seated in the forward section of the boat,43 and he would have relocated whenever he needed a better angle on the circling fish. Any oarsman attempting to reposition this cumbersome craft would have had enormous difficulty and frequently been in the way of the angler. Under such conditions, Grey had an awkward, unstable position that worsened whenever he stood or moved.

  The photographs of Grey from Catalina present a radically different situation. In them, he appears in a “fighting chair” situated in the stern of the boat.44 This centerpiece of saltwater fishing today and a recognized symbol of the sport originated in Catalina shortly before Grey’s arrival in 1914. The earliest version was a stationary wooden seat with a back to support the angler while he was fishing, but soon this was built so that the back could be removed for fighting a fish. This seat was affixed to a solid base that swiveled as the fish moved, and contained a rotating support cup for the butt of the rod. The boat’s inboard motor provided crucial assistance, aiding the stability of the angler and increasing his effectiveness. Early Tuna Club members fished from boats that resembled Seabright dories, but these quickly evolved into eighteen- to twenty-foot launches with small eight- to ten-horsepower motors situated midship that boatmen used to maneuver the craft and assist the angler.45 Around 1910, these launches began to be replaced by longer boats with more powerful inboard motors and fighting chairs in the stern.46 The newer boats elevated the importance of the boatman/captain and his navigational skills. By using the rudder and motor speed to shift the stern right or left, to run with the fish, or to steady the boat, he gave the angler much greater control and enabled him to battle larger fish. One of the first things Grey did following his visit to the taxidermist was to hire O. I. Danielson and his launch the Leta D. As he later explained:

  Boatmen at Long Key and other Florida resorts—at Tampico, Aransas Pass—are not in the same class with the Avalon men. … And the boats—nowhere are there such splendid boats. Captain Danielson’s boat had utterly spoiled me for fishing out of any other. He had it built, and the ideas of its construction were a product of fifteen years’ study. It is thirty-eight feet long, and wide, with roomy, shaded cockpit and cabin, and comfortable revolving chairs to fish from. … Danielson can turn this boat, going at full speed, in its own length. Consider the merit of this when a tuna strikes or a swordfish starts for the open sea. How many tarpon, barracuda, amberjack, and tuna I have lost on the Atlantic seaboard just because the boat could not be turned in time!47

  These improved motorboats spurred complementary advances in tackle. The equipment utilized by the founders of the Tuna Club was as primitive as their boats. Not only were rods heavy and inflexible, and frequently broke, but their reels posed an even greater problem. The handle was affixed
to the spindle, and when a hooked fish bolted and pulled line, the angler had to release the handle and allow the spool to spin. If he did not seize the handle and start cranking as soon as the fish stopped, the spindle would continue and “overspin,” producing either a slack line or a gnarled nest that froze the line and allowed the fish to break free. If he grabbed too soon, the spinning handle could mangle his fingers and/or hand. Such mishaps injured enough fishermen that early detractors referred to the club as a hospital. To reduce this problem, leather patches were applied to the outer edge of the turning spindle to create drag, but the need for better control spurred the vom Hofe tackle company to devise a “star drag” system that enabled the spindle to release line without turning the handle, and to exert a counterpressure as soon as the line stopped.

  Despite the fame and prestige of the Tuna Club, Grey did little tuna fishing during his first two visits. The club was established in 1898 and dedicated to catching large tuna with rod and reel. During the first season of its existence, twenty-four members caught tuna in excess of a hundred pounds. The club sought to recognize this achievement with the award of a blue button, and established it as a goal for the other members to emulate.48 During the first four years of its existence, the club presented sixty-six blue buttons. However, the numbers of large tuna dropped sharply over the years that followed. Excluding the sensational year of 1909, only twenty-six blue buttons were awarded from 1903 to 1916; for the period from 1912 and 1916, members received a measly two.49 This lack of big tuna sent anglers elsewhere—after swordfish. The first marlin from Catalina waters was taken in 1903. Charles F. Holder, the source for this information, claims that it was caught by a shore angler fishing for yellowtail and that it “aroused interest in the possibilities of this sport.”50 Writing about swordfish five years later, Holder observed, “That such sport would become popular in Southern California is doubtful, as there is an element of danger to be considered—that of being rammed by the fish.”51 Nevertheless, intermittent catches stoked enough interest and hope that the Tuna Club was moved in 1909 to establish a gold button for marlin over 200 pounds.52 Over the two years that followed, eighteen marlin were caught, and three members received gold buttons.53 As aspirants learned from others’ successes and experimented on their own, the number of catches surged. In 1911, thirty-four marlin were caught and four gold buttons were awarded, and the year following the number jumped to one hundred marlin and thirteen gold buttons.54 For those after buttons—and most club members prized them—the prospects for a gold button were far better than those for a blue one. In 1914, Holder reversed his earlier position and announced, “This new sport—swordfish angling with rod and reel—is in a class by itself and, all and all, when the danger, the leaps and the spectacular play is considered, I should place it ahead of leaping tuna or tarpon.”55

  These developments prompted Grey’s decision to concentrate upon marlin his first summer. Better boats and tackle not only made catching marlin possible, but they also revolutionized tactics that likewise improved catches. Boatmen learned that the best way to attract a strike from a marlin was to maneuver a line with a “teaser,” a large wooden plug, in front of the fish from a long distance away. Initially, these boats used sleds for deflecting the bait or “teaser” one or two hundred feet away from the boat.56 Boatmen quickly discovered that outriggers were more effective. Around 1910, William Farnsworth, perhaps the best of Catalina’s boatmen, invented “kiting,” an ingenious modification of these advances.57 A flying fish was attached to the hook, and a kite was then affixed well up the line. The captain used his motorboat to raise the kite and maneuver the bait close to a distant marlin without spooking it. By varying the speed of the boat, he was able to lift and drop the kite so that the bait resembled the flying fish that marlin especially liked. When the marlin hit the bait, the line pulled free from the kite. The angler in the fighting chair reeled in the slack, and, as the boat assumed a favorable position, he struck and initiated the fight. William Boschen employed this technique to catch the first broadbill in 1913. Until then, this fish was assumed to be a big marlin, but this achievement caused anglers to realize that this was a larger species and, even better, catchable.58

  These overlapping developments explain Grey’s failure to land a marlin during his first season. Danielson used his state-of-the art boat and his skill with these new tactics to get his client’s hook to a sighted fish, but Grey was so unfamiliar with the process that he struck too soon or too late, and sometimes he totally failed to respond. Although Grey was disappointed over his misses and his failure to land a single one of that season’s many marlin, he realized that he had acquired an invaluable, hard-won education in Catalina’s innovative equipment and tactics.

  The next season, Grey returned more determined and was more successful. By way of preparation, he had E. J. Murphy, an accomplished rod maker in Catalina, construct him a special double, split-bamboo rod, and he acquired a new, state-of-the art B-Ocean reel manufactured by vom Hofe. He also hired Danielson to work for him exclusively. During the first three weeks of fishing, he hooked seven marlin, six more than the whole season before. On August 11, after a glorious, hour-long fight, he finally landed his first one. Though it weighed only 118 pounds, the catch was a momentous breakthrough. Over the next three days, he hooked four more and boated three.59 In August, he left Avalon with Danielson and camped for the whole month on desolate, unpopulated Clemente Island. This decision implemented a favorite Grey strategy, one he had developed in Zanesville years before and would repeat many times in the future: go to a place where there were many fish and few fishermen. There, on August 28, he caught a marlin weighing 284 pounds that earned his first button, the gold.60 Three days later, he had an unforgettable day on which he caught four marlin. His fourth topped the scales at 316 pounds.61 At the time he incorrectly believed it to be an all-time record, and with bursting pride, he informed Dolly:

  Would it interest you to know that I have all the Tuna Club Anglers and every fisherman I ever heard of skinned to a frazzle? The nearest to me has 9 swordfish to his credit, taken since swordfishing became something a few anglers cared to tackle.

  I have caught 15. And the biggest this year, and one as big as any year, if not bigger.

  I’ll tell you about it, when I see you. The jealousy and rivalry among these boatmen and fishermen out here is amazing.62

  Grey was jubilant over his success and eager for recognition. In addition to his letters to Dolly and Davis, he sent Recreation magazine an article entitled “Swordfish, the Royal Purple Game of the Sea,” one of his finest accounts about fishing and a pioneering contribution to the literature of the sport.63 The editors at Recreation immediately recognized the article’s merits and importance, and introduced it with Grey’s photograph of the swordfish charging the boat and a headnote proclaiming: “Here is the biggest and best story ever written of hunting big game in the sea with rod and reel—in fact, the biggest sporting story in years.”64 Obviously the editors wanted to capitalize on Grey’s reputation as a best-selling novelist and adventurous outdoorsman. Grey, in turn, was using this respected sports magazine to promote swordfishing and his success with it. “The sport is young—very little has been known about it. Scarcely anything has been written by men who have caught swordfish,” he declares. “It was this that attracted me” (255). His detailed accounting of the defeats of his first season and his triumphant return is enlivened with colorful descriptions of battles that justified his bold assertion: “To the great majority of anglers it may seem unreasonable to place swordfishing in a class by itself—by far the most magnificent sport in the world with rod and reel. Yet I do not hesitate to make this statement and believe I can prove it” (255). His hyperbolic boast, that swordfishing could only be done by “a man of enormous strength and endurance” (260), would return to haunt him several years later.

  Grey’s successful summer in Catalina inspired him to recruit a skilled boatman from Seabright, Sam “Horse-mackerel
” Johnson, to accompany him to Long Key for the winter of 1916. Zane wanted to tap Johnson’s skill with motorboats, to apply his hard-won knowledge of swordfishing to sailfishing, and to become more adept with light tackle. On February 22, 1916, he posted Dolly another excited announcement of success, “Say Dol, yesterday I broke all the records here. Came in with four sailfish. 4! And the largest ever caught—7 ft. 6 inches!”65 Again he was seeking to best and impress locals. Afterward, he wrote another article in which he celebrated sailfish as “the gamest, the most beautiful and spectacular, and the hardest fish to catch on light tackle.”66 After noting that his catch of four in one day rivaled his record at Clemente, he again celebrated the charm of Long Key and complained about the visitors who wanted three kinds of boats, superhuman boatmen, and special tackle. He proclaimed this kind of angler to be “queer”67 and blithely disregarded his own movement in this direction.

 

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