[MoparCharlie]

Part 2:

So this taxidermist took on the task of making the mount for me, and the agreement we reached was that I was to get a skin mount. And there was supposed to be a right-facing mount and a left-facing mount. And I was assured this would be done.

When the mounts were finished, they were delivered to the weighmaster's store. I went to see them and there was a right mount, a left mount and a full mount - but they were fiberglass! I asked him where the skin mount was, the original fish, and he says the taxidermist told him it was destroyed. The world-record fish is destroyed! Now I know he has a $100,000 insurance policy on it, but that doesn't matter in the sense that what I really want is the world-record fish, the only one of its kind in the world, the largest caught on rod and reel. I want that. That's mine. That's my trophy, but I never got one.

Eventually the lure company comes forward. They give me a hat, too, tell me I'm on the advisory staff. The deal is they will get a mount of the fish. They will also give me $2,500 and tackle boxes filled with my choice of tackle from their plant.

Then the guy who weighed the fish, insured it and kept it at his store, he's also asking for a mount to display in his tackle shop. Now here I am, a fisherman all my life and a lifeguard in the summer. I have no education. I can't read or write. I never took a course in business. I'm really in a mess here, and it's starting to get worse and turn ugly. But I don't have any money to pay for an attorney.

Anyway, I get laid off from the Beach Patrol. I'm going to collect unemployment or try to find work in Atlantic City with the teamsters. I work there part-time with guys who I grew up with, who were friends of mine. I'm also a book holder for warehousemen, chauffeurs and truck drivers.

Around this time I start getting hate mail. I think I know who it's coming from, and we track it. But I refuse to prosecute because it's a family member. The hate mail says that I am a cheat, a fraud, that the catch is a hoax, a scam, that I devastated the striped bass population by killing the queen bee.

The guy who was with me when I caught the fish, he stops seeing me, talking to me, coming over to visit or going fishing with me. He starts becoming very scarce and evasive when I try to reach him.

Everything starts to go nuts. All kinds of stories are flying around. If I rounded up all the people who said they seen me catch the fish and was with me, they would fill a 70-foot party boat. Guys are telling me they seen me jump on the fish's back and ride it to shore. They were there. They caught a 69 when I got the 78. Years later, a guy tells my son the story. I walk up and say, "I'm Al McReynolds."

The guy tells me, "Al McReynolds is dead. He drank himself to death."

My family and I wind up moving out of Atlantic City, over to the town of Brigantine. We move into a hotel called the Blue Marlin for the winter. I'm trying to find work. It's getting toward Thanksgiving and I'm still waiting to hear from the IGFA what their decision is. I go up to the Atlantic City Convention Hall to find work with the Teamsters. I'm standing in the bullpen, as they call it, with all the other guys, and this friend of mine walks over to me. He says, "Hey, Al. What are you doing here, man?"

I say, "What? What are you talking about?"

He says, "I can't put you to work. You're worth $250,000. I gotta put these other guys to work."I say, "What do you mean? I didn't get no money yet. I haven't heard anything." But I go back home to the hotel. I get there and I'm looking at my three kids and my wife. We have a 21-inch TV, remote control. I wind up taking it out and getting in touch with some lifeguards I know, tell them I have a TV for sale. The chief winds up making me an offer. I sell him the TV - I guess it was about 100 bucks - so we can have some food.

By Christmas I still haven't heard anything from the IGFA. Christmas Eve comes and I'm in the hotel with the kids. We're eating peanut butter and crackers. Ain't much going on.

The manager of the hotel comes by and says there's a phone call for me in the front office. I go out to his office, 'cause we didn't even have a phone in the room. They shut them all off. I pick up the phone and the guy comes on. He says, "Albert, I'm Elwood K. Harry. I'm the president of the International Game Fish Association. There's no more fitting time for me to call you than Christmas Eve. We reached a decision. We unanimously voted to give you the new all-tackle world record, as well as the 20-pound-test record. There's a limousine coming down from New York from the man who owns the tackle company. He's bringing you to New York, to Rockefeller Center. You're going to stay at the Hilton. He's flying in on the Concorde from Paris. He's bringing you your money and he's going to pay you the $250,000. Congratulations to you. Job well done on catching that fish. If you ever get down here to Florida, come and see us and say hello. Now God bless you, Albert, and merry Christmas."

Well, we make arrangements to have someone look after the kids because we don't know how long we're going to be in New York and what's going to happen. I wind up having somebody buy me a jacket and a tie. We get in the limousine and the weighmaster guy is in there, along with his wife. We all head off for New York.

We arrive at Rockefeller Center and check into the Hilton. In the room are bottles of champagne and a basket with every type of fruit in it. My wife and I look outside and there's the building where the ball comes down on New Year's, that wedge-shaped building. And we're looking at each other, and we're saying to each other, "Can this be real? Is this a movie? What is this?"

The next day we take a limo to the Explorer's Club in Manhattan for the ceremony. That's where they made the movie The Verdict with Paul Newman. Members include Admiral Byrd, the astronauts. They have moon rocks there. They have stuffed polar bears, elephants, Cape buffalo, lions. It's a real men's club. When I get there they take me to a room and give me cognac and a cigar. After a while, a couple of gentlemen walk in and say, "Al, are you ready?"

I said, "Yeah, let's go."

We walk up to these big sliding doors, must be 12 feet high, and I see all these people sitting at tables with tablecloths and napkins and crystal and waiters. There's a woman representing the governor from the state of New Jersey. I see my wife. She's sitting with the Guinness Book of World Records people from Niagara Falls. There's sportswriters all the way from Oregon, Maine, Florida. They bring me out and I stand next to the podium.

The owner of the tackle company walks up and says, "Albert, I really wish you were using one of my products. Couldn't you tell them you were wearing a hat or a belt buckle with my logo on it or something?"

I say, "No, I can't."

"That's all right," he says. "Now, if you'll turn around and look at this, you're gonna like it. I turn around and this check comes down from the ceiling. It's about 12 feet long, five feet high, has my name on it, and it has the $250,000 up there with all the zeros on it. And as I'm looking at it, it's dawning on me that this is real. This is absolutely real.

When we get back from New York, I deposit the money and rent a car. We take the family to Disney World. But before we leave I go to see my friend who was with me that night on the jetty. I hadn't seen him in a while. I don't know why he wasn't invited to New York, to the award ceremony, but it wasn't my place to invite anybody. And I still don't know what arrangement he had made with the guy who owned the tackle shop. I don't know what they worked out. When I get to his place, I say, "Hey, what's up, man?"

He says, "Well, if it isn't the millionaire! What's up champ?"

I say, "Hey, I brought something for you. I wanted to do something for you and your family." And I give him a check for $10,000. That's the last time we ever spoke.

So we go down to Florida to get out of the snow and ice. When we get there it's 70 degrees. It's fabulous. Palm trees, beaches. The kids are having a ball. We see Mickey Mouse, the Disney parades. We stay right next to Disney at one of the hotels there. I just want to mend my wounds. I'm feeling pretty beat up. And we are scared, nervous. Nothing like this has every happened to us. My wife's parents are both dead. She doesn't have anybody to hold her in Jersey. I really don't have anybody to hold me around either. My grandmother is dead. My grandfather is gone. It's just us and the kids.

When we get back to Jersey, I get a note saying that the Sportsman's Federation of New Jersey was making me Sportsman of the Year. I also get invited to the New Jersey Game & Fisheries' annual event. They want to give me a plaque for catching the New Jersey state record striped bass. I wind up going up there, driving up with my sister and my brother-in-law and my wife.

When we get there, I'm sitting at this table and this guy's talking to me. He identifies himself as a publisher from New York. He says, "You know, man, you robbed your kids and you robbed yourself and your wife."

I say, "What are you talking about? Who are you?"

He says, "You gave everything away for free, and they didn't have to pay you. You didn't get a dime. You're a fool. You're stupid."

Just as I'm getting ready to stand up, my brother-in-law grabs me by my arms.

When I get up to the podium, this guy has a plaque for me. He says, "Albert, we want to present this plaque to you for the New Jersey state record." But they have the date wrong and they have my name spelled wrong. He says, "Well, this is close enough, man. Here, take it."