This obit is different from the Washington Post in that it includes a quote from an article posted below in the sidebar:
Get Paid to Fish!by Jack
Jack Lorenz Showing off a Lake Winnipesaukee, NH Smallmouth
I wouldn't trade my nearly 60-year bass fishing career for anything, Not only have I chased the critters in every state and Canadian province where they swim, but, most often, I've been paid to do it!What's the secret? Get into conservation as a profession. That is not as hard as you might think. If you pursue a conservation career as intensely as you pursue that "hawg" of your dreams, you just might pull it off. I call it the PPPV formula for success. PPP&V is an acronym for "Perspectives, Priorities and Piss and Vinegar."Before I share some stories with you, lets look at those terms: "Perspectives" means knowing what makes aquatic habitats healthy and how we must (not can) strive to keep them that way. "Priorities" simply means that you give as much to resource conservation as you do to your gear and the endless stringer full of "BS" we all toss about so readily. Ask yourself, "Do I fish today, or do I spend a few hours improving the stream/lake/pond where that wall hanger waits for me? Being there picking up trash may not be the best investment of your conservation time. It could well be taking part in the activities of a group whose mission is defense of your favorite spot. And "Pand V" is nothing but your personal energetic action. The most committed angler-conservationist is a little more than a bottom feeder without some degree of personal involvement in habitat care. Look at it this way: would you expect to win a raffle if you never bought a ticket? Get involved. Make an investment -- and if there is no group protecting your "honey hole" -- start one! These stories will help illustrate my little lecture. In 1949, my father gave me a birthday present that literally decided the course of my life. He took me on a week-long float down the Buffalo river in Arkansas. Memories of that more than half century old trip remain as clear as they did when I was 10. Try this on: 246 smallies to four lbs. by noon of our second day out. (Kids keep count of such things.) Crystal clear water, hawks soaring above towering bluffs, deer, turkeys and other wild critters seemingly around every bend and a campfire on a gravel bar every night. If that isn't a sportsman's paradise, I don't know what is. A couple of years later, a proposal to obliterate that fishery with high dams was put forth. Though just in my early teens, I got into the campaign to "Save the Buffalo." Is it any wonder? That wild, spirited river flows today just as it did 53 years ago -- and by casting between the hundreds of canoes bobbing downriver each weekend, you can still catch many nice smallmouth. I went back there on the 50th anniversary of my first float and had a super day. While I know my efforts in the 50s were minimal, I still feel like my investment was worth every second I put into the fight. Beaver, Table Rock, Bull Shoals, Taneycomo and Norfork -- the chain of lakes on the White river, a watershed north in Missouri, are world famous as well. Both wild rivers and 50,000 acre impoundments are needed. Few places in the nation provide higher quality stream and flat water bass fisheries within a few miles of each other. If anyone ever runs a contest to find the dumbest things anglers do, I have a personal entry. When I was 19 I was invited to fish a farm pond that was reported to harbor big bass. It was a Saturday morn in April when I hit the 1/3-acre backyard impoundment at 6:30 a.m. with a big, shiny Rebel floater. I was off the pond three hours later with a stringer of nine largemouths. The smallest went 4.5 and the biggest weighed a hair over nine. I had a great time, impressed all my buddies -- and left the pond totally bereft of big fish. I had literally burgled the Fort Knox of bassing in that area of St. Louis County. I returned dozens of times to that tiny hole and never caught a fish over two lbs. again. Ever. Even the bluegill population became stunted after my idiocy. Understandably, my memories of that day are the opposite of those I have about the Buffalo. As is often the case with little private fisheries in the path of suburban sprawl, that little treasure is now far beneath the parking lot of a huge shopping center. That's progress? I think not. The conservation lesson from that little misadventure is twofold -- Put the fish back and don't pave over their homes. Guilt is a major factor in fund raising (something I've done a lot of) It also can be a conservation spawner. That lesson hit home in 1971 when, recalling my teenage ego trip, I wrote a catch and release program for my friend, Ray Scott. He considered it, sought the input of other fisheries leaders, honed the ideas and announced "Don't Kill Your Catch" in early 1972. As we are all well aware, "DKYC" became a permanent, and highly acclaimed, part of Ray's increasingly popular BASS tournament circuit. Scott's power as a promoter was matched only by his ability to see the impact he was having on both the nation's anglers and its fisheries. He knew that putting fish back was both good for the resource -- and his bank account. I have never doubted that my pangs of guilt over what I had done to that little pond sparked the creation of that catch and release proposal. Thus, both wonderful and regrettable outdoor experiences can lead to significant conservation initiatives. I have dozens, if not hundreds, more examples of how each of us can make a difference that will benefit the fish and the fisheries that produce them, but this is plenty for now. Just know this: The conservation field is always in need of new people, new ideas and most of all, more "P&V." Without a fresh infusion of all three, our fishing future will be far less bright than our bassing past. Copyright 2002 Jack Lorenz All Rights
I wouldn't trade my nearly 60-year bass fishing career for anything, Not only have I chased the critters in every state and Canadian province where they swim, but, most often, I've been paid to do it!What's the secret? Get into conservation as a profession. That is not as hard as you might think. If you pursue a conservation career as intensely as you pursue that "hawg" of your dreams, you just might pull it off. I call it the PPPV formula for success. PPP&V is an acronym for "Perspectives, Priorities and Piss and Vinegar."Before I share some stories with you, lets look at those terms: "Perspectives" means knowing what makes aquatic habitats healthy and how we must (not can) strive to keep them that way. "Priorities" simply means that you give as much to resource conservation as you do to your gear and the endless stringer full of "BS" we all toss about so readily. Ask yourself, "Do I fish today, or do I spend a few hours improving the stream/lake/pond where that wall hanger waits for me? Being there picking up trash may not be the best investment of your conservation time. It could well be taking part in the activities of a group whose mission is defense of your favorite spot. And "Pand V" is nothing but your personal energetic action. The most committed angler-conservationist is a little more than a bottom feeder without some degree of personal involvement in habitat care. Look at it this way: would you expect to win a raffle if you never bought a ticket? Get involved. Make an investment -- and if there is no group protecting your "honey hole" -- start one! These stories will help illustrate my little lecture. In 1949, my father gave me a birthday present that literally decided the course of my life. He took me on a week-long float down the Buffalo river in Arkansas. Memories of that more than half century old trip remain as clear as they did when I was 10. Try this on: 246 smallies to four lbs. by noon of our second day out. (Kids keep count of such things.) Crystal clear water, hawks soaring above towering bluffs, deer, turkeys and other wild critters seemingly around every bend and a campfire on a gravel bar every night. If that isn't a sportsman's paradise, I don't know what is. A couple of years later, a proposal to obliterate that fishery with high dams was put forth. Though just in my early teens, I got into the campaign to "Save the Buffalo." Is it any wonder? That wild, spirited river flows today just as it did 53 years ago -- and by casting between the hundreds of canoes bobbing downriver each weekend, you can still catch many nice smallmouth. I went back there on the 50th anniversary of my first float and had a super day. While I know my efforts in the 50s were minimal, I still feel like my investment was worth every second I put into the fight. Beaver, Table Rock, Bull Shoals, Taneycomo and Norfork -- the chain of lakes on the White river, a watershed north in Missouri, are world famous as well. Both wild rivers and 50,000 acre impoundments are needed. Few places in the nation provide higher quality stream and flat water bass fisheries within a few miles of each other. If anyone ever runs a contest to find the dumbest things anglers do, I have a personal entry. When I was 19 I was invited to fish a farm pond that was reported to harbor big bass. It was a Saturday morn in April when I hit the 1/3-acre backyard impoundment at 6:30 a.m. with a big, shiny Rebel floater. I was off the pond three hours later with a stringer of nine largemouths. The smallest went 4.5 and the biggest weighed a hair over nine. I had a great time, impressed all my buddies -- and left the pond totally bereft of big fish. I had literally burgled the Fort Knox of bassing in that area of St. Louis County. I returned dozens of times to that tiny hole and never caught a fish over two lbs. again. Ever. Even the bluegill population became stunted after my idiocy. Understandably, my memories of that day are the opposite of those I have about the Buffalo. As is often the case with little private fisheries in the path of suburban sprawl, that little treasure is now far beneath the parking lot of a huge shopping center. That's progress? I think not. The conservation lesson from that little misadventure is twofold -- Put the fish back and don't pave over their homes. Guilt is a major factor in fund raising (something I've done a lot of) It also can be a conservation spawner. That lesson hit home in 1971 when, recalling my teenage ego trip, I wrote a catch and release program for my friend, Ray Scott. He considered it, sought the input of other fisheries leaders, honed the ideas and announced "Don't Kill Your Catch" in early 1972. As we are all well aware, "DKYC" became a permanent, and highly acclaimed, part of Ray's increasingly popular BASS tournament circuit. Scott's power as a promoter was matched only by his ability to see the impact he was having on both the nation's anglers and its fisheries. He knew that putting fish back was both good for the resource -- and his bank account. I have never doubted that my pangs of guilt over what I had done to that little pond sparked the creation of that catch and release proposal. Thus, both wonderful and regrettable outdoor experiences can lead to significant conservation initiatives. I have dozens, if not hundreds, more examples of how each of us can make a difference that will benefit the fish and the fisheries that produce them, but this is plenty for now. Just know this: The conservation field is always in need of new people, new ideas and most of all, more "P&V." Without a fresh infusion of all three, our fishing future will be far less bright than our bassing past. Copyright 2002 Jack Lorenz All Rights
Jack Lorenz, 63, is a nationally known retired conservation administrator, active outdoor writer and former guide on Missouri's famed Table Rock lake. Hailing from St. Louis, Jack is the former executive director of the Izaak Walton League of America and past president of the American League of Anglers. He currently serves on the boards of three conservation groups. His 40+ year writing career includes features in BASSMASTER, OUTDOOR AMERICA and a dozens of other journals. Jack has been a bass angler since his dad took him to the clear smallmouth streams and storied impoundments of the Ozark mountain country. A resident of Alexandria, VA for the past 30 years, Jack says, "my four decades of conservation work and story telling have allowed me to fish in 49 states and all Canadian Provinces -- and I owe that good fortune to a life-long passion for bass fishing."
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