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Courtesy Stuart Bennett
Casting a Line with a U.P. Legend
The author’s friend Stuart, at a young age, doing what he loved to do.
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Courtesy John Voelker Papers Collection at NMU
Casting a Line with a U.P. Legend
Ishpeming native John Voelker loved fishing U.P. streams and lakes. He also loved writing. His 1958 novel Anatomy of a Murder, written under the pseudonym Robert Traver, became an Otto Preminger movie. John wrote several books about trout fishing, too.
John D. Voelker was, and still is, something of a legend in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.
A native of Ishpeming, he wrote several novels under the pseudonym, Robert Traver. His most famous, Anatomy of a Murder, was originally published in 1958 and a year later was made into an Otto Preminger movie starring Jimmy Stewart, Lee Remick and George C. Scott.
Those with a passion for fishing know that he also wrote about brook trout fishing in the Upper Peninsula, including Trout Madness and Trout Magic.
John was a local prosecuting attorney before serving as an associate justice on the Michigan Supreme Court from 1956 to 1960, when he resigned to continue writing, fly fishing and playing cribbage.
Fly fishing was also a passion for my friend Stuart and me ever since we were youngsters. We frequented the same area favored by the famed U.P. author and trout fisherman.
It was only recently, though, as we talked about our favorite summer pastime, that Stu related a most memorable fishing experience he had at about age 10 in the early 1960s. We both agreed that this tale ought to be told, so here’s the story Stu told me about a day fishing with his dad, Dr. Matt Bennett:
On a late afternoon in June, Stu and his dad packed their fishing gear, jumped into the station wagon and headed north from Marquette on the Big Bay Road. Their destination was the Yellow Dog River. At age 10, he was anxious to try his newly acquired fly-fishing skills. There would be plenty of time to fish during the long U.P. summer evening. He wanted to catch a trout that would provide him with bragging rights among his friends.
At stream’s edge, Stu and his dad put on their waders and smeared themselves with stinky 6-12 mosquito repellent (you can’t even get this anymore!). He strung up his new 71⁄2-foot split bamboo fly rod. His dad said, “You go downstream and fish upstream, and I’ll go farther downstream and fish back up to meet you. Don't fish too fast.”
Stu’s dad knew that as a youngster, he had a tendency to be impatient and to move on in the absence of a fish after the first couple of casts. Stu made his way upstream, floating his dry fly through riffles and pools. Needless to say, at this early stage of his fishing career, Stu also pulled the fly out of several tag alders.
After about an hour, Stu came to a long deep pool containing a sunken log. The pool was at a bend in the river, and there was enough room for a backcast without hanging the fly in vegetation.
I’ll let Stu take over from here:
“Concentrating on flipping the fly to the head of the pool, I caught a whiff of smoke from what I later learned was one of those dried up Italian cigars. Looking around, I saw a middle-aged fisherman watching me and puffing on a cigar. I noticed the smoke kept the mosquitoes at bay.
“The fisherman said, ‘Well, son, I missed catching a good-sized brown here yesterday. You got here first, and you are a fly fisherman, so let’s see if you can hook him. Let me see what fly you have on there.’
“I showed him the fly.
“‘Here,’ he said. ‘Try this one.’"
He produced a white deer hair winged fly (I later learned it was a “Betty”) and tied it onto my leader for me. Pointing to a place at the head of the pool, and upstream from the log, he said, ‘Throw the fly there.’ I did.
“Wham! The brown grabbed the fly, and I was gripped with a mixture of excitement and panic, trying to hang onto the fish and keep it away from the log. I finally managed to get the fish near the bank, where the fisherman netted it for me. In all the confusion, the reel came off my flyrod, and I stepped on the reel, damaging it beyond repair. But I did have the fish, and that was all that mattered. The fish was a beautiful 18-inch brown – brag-worthy for sure.
“The fisherman introduced himself as John, and said, ‘Well done, son. But you might need a new reel if you want to keep on fishing.’ He reached into his vest, pulled out a well-used reel, and handed it to me. I later learned that this reel was a Hardy, which fly fishermen will recognize as the creme de la creme of fly reels. I still have that reel, which I have retained as a keepsake. The fisherman went on his way. I did continue to fish, with my oversize brown flopping out of both sides of my fern-filled wicker basket creel. I couldn’t wait to show off the fish.
“As dusk began to fall, I met Dad on the river. He told me that he’d encountered John Voelker on the stream earlier, and asked me if I’d seen him. Dad was acquainted with Voelker, and I knew of him via his reputation. It was just then it dawned on me who the cigar-smoking fisherman was. Duly impressed that I had experienced an encounter with a trout fishing legend, I responded, ‘Yes, sir, I did see him!’ and showed off my reel.
“Dad advised me to send Mr. Voelker a thank-you note for the reel, and I did. Today I’d thank him for the special memory he gave me, too.”
R. Allan “Al” Edgar also has a special tie to John Voelker. Al is also a judge, serving as senior U.S. District judge presiding in Marquette. Stuart Bennett is lifelong U.P. resident and retired teacher from the Marquette public schools.