A Writer Recalls Some of His Early Works

As one of the first BASS writers, Don Wirth (left) got to rub elbows with a lot of pros. Those contacts provided the fodder for many stories over the years.

For example, there's the time when Wirth shared a boat with Tom Mann, who had designed a wicked new crankbait called the Razorback, which he wanted Wirth to write about. On one of his casts that day, Mann accidentally popped Wirth upside the head with the plug, burying both trebles in his scalp. Wirth subsequently had to make a quick trip to the emergency room at Eufala General Hospital to get the barbs cut out. Afterward, he gave the hookless plug an honored spot on his office wall.

Then there was the time Wirth was shooting a magazine spread on how a BASS pro practices for a major tournament. The pro he was with, who remained nameless, was explaining how he liked to cruise the lake while watching his paper graph for ledges, humps and dropoffs. Just as Wirth went to shoot a close-up of the pro adjusting the gain on his sonar unit, a gust of wind blew off his hat...then his toupee. Neither one said a word as the pro stopped to retrieve his soggy rug, which had ended up in the boat's splash well.

Wirth was a press observer at many of the early Bassmaster Classics, back when the location of the event was kept a closely guarded secret until the last minute. Here's how things went down back then: Classic contenders and the press corps would convene at a central location, where they were wined and dined at a lavish banquet. Pros were limited to 10 pounds of tackle, and tournament director Harold Sharp would weigh each possum-belly tacklebox on scales, then remove lures until any excess weight was eliminated. Bill Dance was known to sneak a brick into some of the contestants' tackleboxes from time to time. The next morning, all would board a chartered plane, and after it was airborne, Scott would reveal the Classic lake.

Those early Classics were memorable affairs. At the 1975 event at Currituck Sound in North Carolina, a monster storm raged along the Outer Banks, busting up Classic boats like Tinker Toys and stranding many contenders miles from the weigh-in site. At the 1980 event on the St. Lawrence River in New York, the weather was positively balmy when the tournament began but suddenly plunged below freezing as a massive nor'easter blew through. Wirth recalled the decks and floor of the boat he was riding in being slick with ice. Back then, it could be argued that at the Classic, safety was secondary to spectacle. Because it looked so impressive, Ray Scott had all 40-something Classic boats blast off at the same time, which wasn't so dangerous if the event were being held on a sprawling reservoir, but pretty darn scary on a narrow river.

Wirth cited the blastoff at the 1982 event on the Alabama River, when the boat he was riding in got forced to the outside of the pack, which meant he and his pro were running 60 mph right against the river bank...in maybe a foot of water. Said Wirth, "I looked down, saw all those submerged logs and stumps whizzing past, then shut my eyes and braced myself for the impact that miraculously never came."

Wirth then asked, "How many of you remember Bo Dowden?" He was the BASS pro from the unpronounceable town of Natchitoches, LA, who became a crowd favorite, both for his angling prowess and his unbelievably s-l-o-o-o-w speaking style. Scott, always one to poke fun at any idiosyncrasy he could spot in a pro, would introduce Dowden at weigh-ins as "an Olympic runner."

Said Wirth, "Bo won the 1980 Class, then I was paired with him the following year when he defended his crown on the Alabama River. Here, he tanked miserably, and to add insult to injury, lost all his rods and reels on the final day of competition when his boat hit a wake, and they flew out into the drink. As his tackle and his dreams of winning another Classic crown sank to the bottom of the river, Dowden didn't go ballistic and throw a hissy fit the way some pros might today. Instead, he just shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and drawled, 'O-h-h-h, w-e-l-l-l."

Those glory days are part of history, quaint footnotes in the annals of bass fishing. Today, pro bass fishing is bigger, faster and slicker than ever. Now pros succeed not on angling ability alone, but on how well they promote their sponsors' wares, which, as noted by Wirth, "I fear would bode ill for many of those old-time BASS heroes if they were competing today. After all, can you envision Bo Dowden trying to read through a 30-second television commercial for some lure or sonar manufacturer? It would take him five minutes!"