Inside Angles: Celebrating 50–The Science, Soul, and Shenanigans Behind In-Fisherman's Legacy

Someone once said there are three things no person can do to the entire satisfaction of anyone else—make love, poke the fire, and run a magazine. I suspect they got the first two right and I’m quite certain the last one is on target. It does seem like far at times, but overall, on behalf of our staff, it’s been a joyous ride all these many years—50 to be exact.

Ah, running a magazine. Readers depend on a clear vision of content from a magazine’s staff; the talent of the chosen writers to cover topics well; and the knowledge of those finally sitting in judgment of the writing, making sure the material is accurate and easy to read and understand. That calls for solid informational sources, stellar writers, and great editors, all of which In-Fisherman has had in ample supply over the years—naming them all is left for another day, although some pop up in various parts of this issue.

In-Fisherman as an organization was from the beginning the visionary product of the Lindner brothers, Ron and Al—their quest to build a communications network, beginning with a magazine (eventually magazines), but also incorporating TV, radio, books, videos, walleye tournament angling, and a digital component. That road is a long and curious one, some of which is captured in this 50th anniversary celebration.

I don’t know the statistics per se, but most magazines don’t make their 50th. Then, too, even a decade ago, the death of all magazines was trumpeted as a foregone conclusion, with the heady glitz and instant information and gratification offered by competing digital sites. True, that realm is here to stay, and we embrace it, too; but magazines like In-Fisherman that made the cut and stayed with it remain a vibrant part of the media landscape. A cadre of folks simply like the look and feel of the paper product. But of course these days you can embrace the magazine digitally, too.

For In-Fisherman, science has always been vital to the visionary process, the information, the writing, the editing, and the final product. With science in our back pocket, there’s always something new on the horizon, always something curious to write about, and the accuracy of information sets the material apart, giving it an authenticity that blends well with the equal authenticity of first-hand information that can only be finally gathered by extensive field research—fishing.

So too has the connection between science and the best anglers of our day defined the character of In-Fisherman and in doing so helped to change the way the world approaches fishing; so much so that a trip through our archives is like a trip through a portion of angling history.

Of course, there are many different directions a column like this might head on an occasion like this. I propose to keep it brief and simple and let the rest of this magazine look at moments along the way as we also ponder what’s ahead.

Although it’s terribly difficult work sometimes, I’ve always enjoyed the writing as much as the research and the fishing.

Solid writing? Well, you know what you like when you see it and it varies person by person. Basically, though, when it’s right “there’s a train a comin’ and all you have to do is get on board.” You’re there, having been skillfully led into the story, the topic compelling, the writing vigorous, well composed and logically constructed so you can’t stop (you’re learning something but you’re also inspired, or at least having fun)—and then it must end on a crescendo worthy of the rest of the cruise. I picked one of my favorite article endings from over the years—one I thought particularly appropriate for this occasion, this 50-year celebration.

It’s from the article “Bitchin’ Bucktails Kick Muskie Butt,” June 2000. I’m fishing with the legendary guide Doug Johnson and the equally legendary and now late Jack Burns—Northwest Angle, Lake of the Woods. Johnson’s throwing “big ugly somethings” up front while Burns is doing after-burner work with the smaller fast-moving bucktails some of us called Lil’ Bitchers—cut to the end of the story, as it unfolds thusly . . .

Burns hasn’t had a bite or a follow from a decent fish in almost two days. Then mid-afternoon on the last day, it happens. A 52-inch fish follows Burns’s bucktail out of a weed pocket that Johnson has already fished. “Incoming,” he says, so Johnson and I have time to turn and witness the scene.

The fish doesn’t look interested, but it’s following right along, and Burns makes the big turn as he slides his rod tip a foot underwater. Burns, I testify, is one of the three best figure-eighters I have shared a boat with in five decades of fishing for muskies.

He slips neatly into a figure-eight; makes a quick but wide first turn; speeds the bait up as he progressively slides the bait down another 6 inches in the straightaway; makes another big turn as he steadily raises the bait—the fish’s attitude changes; it rushes, gills flare, the bait disappears. Burns pulls back against the grain (back into the fish, not away from it); and muskie mayhem sets in at boatside on a short line; big fish wallowing with its head out, mouth open, gills flared and rattling.

“Whoa,” Johnson and I say in unison. Poetry of our kind “Yes. Yes!” Johnson breaks into a chorus of America the Beautiful. I take a stab at Ave Maria. “Whoa!” we say again. Double dog whoa! Jack Burns for president. Jack Burns for mayor, dog catcher, whatever.

It’s an easy release after a quick couple of photos. The three of us, arm in arm, sing a chorus of the Star-Spangled Banner. Johnson, who usually sings bass, hits the high note in a perfect falsetto, right on cue (with only a little goosing from a 10-inch Suick). Loons cry out across the water. Moose and wolves are yodeling O Canada. Black bears begin break dancing along nearby rocky shorelines.

It’s a celebration fitting for 50.

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