Monday, Mar. 4, 2002
“Old men have their fishing stories, and Sampson L. Hartwig is no exception. The best fishing story is when I was nigh 25, I went fishing with my college buddy Meadows.

Meadows was an expert fisherman, raised in a fisherman family. His father was a fisherman, his father’s father was a fisherman, his father’s father’s father sold lingerie in Times Square, but the father of that father’s father’s father was a fisherman as well, so on.

I had all the lures money could buy, and some I could only trade sexual favors for. Meadows had only a pack of gum. He chewed a piece, shaped the A.B.C. gum into a somewhat fish-like shape, and wrapped the silver wrapper around it. It looked sort of like a fish, I was even tempted to bite it myself. Meadows put it on a hook and tossed it into the water.

‘That’s all the bait you’re using?’ I asked him. He smiled slyly, tilted his hat down over his eyes, and nodded. I began using my high-tech lures, one after the other, and all through the day Meadows only used the gum-and-wrapper lures he made himself.

Well, by the time the day was over it was quite a surprise. I had a cooler full of 33 fish, all various sizes large and small, while Meadows’ cooler was full of empty beer cans and vomit. I later found out Meadows was considered quite the loser by his family of fishermen.”

“Fishing”