New World Record Striper Caught-Can Anyone Confirm

[MoparCharlie]

Here's the Al McRenolds story after he caught the record fish.....Maybe the record isn't all it's cracked up to be. Part 1

When Albert McReynolds landed what proved to be the world's largest striped bass ever taken on rod and reel, from a jetty off Atlantic City, New Jersey, in 1982, he never imagined how the event would change his life. As we see in Part II of his remarkable story, catching a world-record fish can carry a heavy price indeed. We pick up on the morning after McReynold's epic battle with the 78-pound striper, at the tackle shop where the fish is being weighed.



It got to be just about almost daylight, the crack of dawn. And the tackle shop is on a road where all the guys are going to work - construction workers, roofers, plumbers, carpenters, guys who work at the casinos and build the casinos in Atlantic City. And people start pulling up when they see this fish hanging on the scale. All of a sudden the Fish & Game people show up, the local TV people, the radio people. It turns into a crowd. Guys are asking, "Who caught the fish? Where's he at? I want to talk to him." Guys are lighting cigarettes and putting them in my mouth, pouring Budweisers on my head, drinking beers. It's turning into a festival.

Now, in order to qualify for an IGFA record, I had to surrender the lure, the rod, the line, the reel - everything. I had to explain the catch, how I handled the fish, how it was hooked and where. Everything in detail. Nobody tells you when you land a world-record fish that there's going to be an investigation. And this investigation is supposed to be handled very quietly through the IGFA. Nothing's supposed to be divulged until they reach a decision at the conclusion of their investigation and tell you if the fish qualifies for any world records. You need a lawyer immediately because you shouldn't open your mouth or tell anybody anything. The press calls it "freedom of press," but what you're actually doing is robbing yourself and your family. Because when you divulge everything it becomes public knowledge. The tackle companies feel they don't have to pay you nothing. And they're going to get a million dollars' worth of publicity. What they're going to do is give you a hat and a T-shirt, and that doesn't feed your family.

Well, we wound up with everybody there, and the fish is put back on the scale. And this weighmaster guy gets out the record book and he says, "Okay. Cape Cod, Massachusetts, 73 pounds. Caught by a guy named Charlie Church."

He moves the scale and it goes 71, 72, 73, 74. He says, "You got one record. You beat the 73-pounder what was caught by Charlie Church." Then he says, "Now this is for all the marbles. Montauk, Glen Cove, Long Island, 76 pounds, the all-tackle world record." Then he goes, "Seventy-five, 76, 77, 78, 79." It teeters and balances out. He taps it back. 78, 8. He says, "Albert, to my knowledge you just won everything, and you may have the record for 20-pound test."

He says to me, this guy who's the weighmaster, as he's shaking my hand, "You just won the state record. You beat the Massachusetts record. You beat the New York record. Thank you for bringing this fish to my shop."

We wound up going back inside his office and signing the proper papers with witnesses and everything. And the phone rings, and the secretary comes over to me. She says, "A man's calling, says it's absolutely urgent to speak to you."

She gives me the phone and this guy comes on. He says, "Albert, you don't know me. My name is Nelson Bryant. I'm an outdoor sportswriter for the New York Times. I live up here in Martha's Vineyard." He says, "Listen, are you sitting down? Sit down for a minute." I sat down. He says, "I'm in touch with the king of Sweden. I'm trying to reach a man who owns Waterford Crystal in Ireland. There's a fishing contest on.

A lot of people don't know about it. We're trying to track it down and find out how to qualify for it or how to file for it, or get an application, or find out what the rules are. You just might have won a whole load of money. You stay there now. I'm gonna call you back as soon as I hear something."

After that I walk outside, and here comes my wife through the crowd. She says, "What's going on?"

I tell her, "I caught that fish." And I'm pointing to the fish.

She says, "Wait a minute. You gotta be to work pretty soon. We need the money 'cause it's going to be a long winter."

I say, "I just got off the phone with a guy who told me I might've won a lot of money or something here."

She says, "Yeah, I'll believe it when I see the check. How long is all this going to take?"

Soon the weighmaster guy is talking to me again. He tells me he's gonna take the fish and put it somewhere safe. My rod's gone, my line, my lure, the tackle and everything I had is gone. Now even the fish is gone. I'm standing there with absolutely nothing, and I'm groggy and tired beyond belief. My feet are still soaking wet and I'm trying to figure out what's going to happen next.

Then this guy pulls up with a truck advertising this tackle company. They're one of the biggest companies that make fishing reels. He says, "Congratulations, man. Listen, get the reel and put it in the picture so it goes in the magazines or in the newspapers. Now, I'm gonna authorize right now to you a lifetime supply of fishing tackle. And you'll probably get cash too. I'll get back to you."

Then he gives me a hat and a T-shirt and asks me to put them on for the photos. I say, "Yeah, why not?"

Next thing I know, the secretary comes back out. I'm in the parking lot, posing for pictures with people. She says, "That man's calling again from the New York Times. Says to get you immediately."

So I go back inside and pick the phone up. The guy says, "Albert, this is Nelson Bryant again. I got some information for you. Listen to this. There's a 'chance of a lifetime' fishing contest. It's a bounty. It's being handled by Lloyd's of London. The Blair Mail House Nebraska people are handling the applications. We're having a private courier pick one up and bring it to New York, for you to claim one of the prizes. The contest, from what we understand, awards a prize for breaking the next IGFA world record for four species of fish. Rainbow trout, largemouth bass, king salmon. And what do you think the last one is?"

I say, "Striper?"

He says, "Striped bass. You just won, to our knowledge, $250,000. Me and you, Al, are going to become good friends. I'm going to take the New York Times and point it at their head, like a double-barrel shotgun. And if they don't give you your money, I'm gonna blow it all over the newspapers. They're going to send representatives down from the tackle company that's sponsoring the contest. Now have a good day. I'll get back to you if anything changes. Just watch yourself. Be careful. You're dealing with some people that I don't think you're used to dealing with."

After that, the tackle-shop owner tells me if I want any tackle, anything at all, to take whatever I want. Just let him know what I need. He also tells me he has been in touch with an insurance company, since a prize is involved. He's gonna take care of the fish and insure it for $100,000. He releases this to the news media, tells them he is insuring the fish and that he'll be holding it for safekeeping.

By now I'm late for work at the Beach Patrol. Dozens of guys offer to give me a ride. When I get to the lifeguard station it's about 10:30, 11:00. And the chief walks up to me and says, "What are you doing here? Go home. You're suspended. We're docking you for the day. You never called. You never showed up."

As I'm standing there, some of the other lifeguards who want to heckle me are saying, "Wait, you can't go anywhere. Ted Koppel's calling. NBC's calling." They're breaking my balls and humiliating me and treating me terrible. My head's pounding. I'm upset, tired, frustrated. All this stuff is happening and it's overwhelming. Your feet leave the deck and you're floating on cloud nine, and the next minute you're walking into mean, jealous people who want to treat you terrible.

The chief also tells me to have all these phone calls stopped because they've been getting over 50 phone calls an hour from people who want to talk to me. Then the assistant chief says, "What is all this bull- over a fish? All it is is a stinking fish. I don't know what everybody's getting excited about."

I walk home on the boardwalk. I finally get back to our little rental apartment. I see the bed and I collapse. I must have passed out. I wanted nothing to eat, nothing to drink. I just wanted to get some rest. I don't know how long I slept, but my wonderful, beautiful wife, she wakes me up with hot chicken noodle soup and tells me to get up, it's time to go to work. I must have slept 24 hours.

I get to the lifeguard station, put on my uniform and go down to the beach. Before I know it, I get a call at the station. They tell me that the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute showed up and was examining my fish. And that the people handling the $250,000 contest were in town checking the fish, and wanted to know if I used any of their tackle. Which I didn't. I didn't use anything of theirs. But the application for the contest said you didn't have to use their tackle.

I don't know how many phone calls I got while I was working on the Beach Patrol the last couple weeks there, but it was unbelievable. I mean, I didn't have a minute's peace. There was always somebody who wanted to talk to me, somebody who wanted to meet with me. They wanted me at the Elks, the Moose, the VFW, the American Legion, the fishing clubs. All these so-called new friends wanted a piece of me.

This fellow who's the weighmaster and is holding my fish, now he wants to see me. He asks me who I would like have mount the fish. I said I'd like to give a local guy a shot.