The Northeast fishing community may feel like a living and breathing beast of an entity, but in truth, it’s a small and tight-knit community of passionate anglers. Segment this down to something like surfcasting and it reduces almost to the familial level. Social media has erased the separation of miles and phone numbers and helped us all connect with the “passion leaders” of our chosen niche.
During the third week of April, the surf community lost two of its most passionate and kindest practitioners: Carl Johansen and Steve George. And I count myself among the lucky ones who knew them both.
Carl was the elder statesman of the Cape Cod Canal, a man who started fishing the ditch before my father was born. The first time I met this gentle and genuine man, he had already decided that we were connected because of our Swedish heritage. He’d see me at a show or tackle shop and either pat me on the back and boisterously exclaim “svenska” which I couldn’t translate at the time, but I now know simply means “Swedish”, or he’d call me “Dave the Swede” and give me a knowing nod, like we were both in a club that no one else could understand. Even though I didn’t outwardly brandish my pride for my Swedish quarter, it still flattered me that Carl remembered me and cared enough to try and make me feel accepted.
I interviewed him in 2008 for an article in this magazine; sadly I don’t have copy readily available, but we spent an entire afternoon in his dark basement, leafing through the history of his fishing past, every rod he had, every lure he’d picked up along the way, and the stories that were burned into their deepening patina. I felt overwhelmed and, as if I wasn’t worthy of having all this history passed down to me. When we finally emerged, the rainy day had turned into the black of night, and Carl was insisting that I stay for dinner. I don’t think his wife was prepared for guests! I tried to excuse myself, but Carl’s warm insistence won out and I sat at their table eating leftover chicken and veggies, extending a day I wished would never end. I remember driving home over the Sagamore Bridge and feeling like I couldn’t stop smiling, Carl was just a wonderful guy who genuinely cared about everyone who crossed his path.
When someone like Carl passes on, it’s common for people to declare that a place or activity will never be the same without them. In the case of Carl and the place he loved, I feel like the Canal will now always harbor his spirit making its magic and mystique even more powerful for anyone who stops to watch the tide long enough to appreciate what each quiet of morning and growing dawn really are: proof of another day and what a gift it is to be able to spend it, fishing these rip-rap shorelines that he loved so much.
Steve George was proof of the concept that, as members of the Northeast fishing community – as geographically diverse as we are – we are all connected by the short string of fishing obsession. Steve was a Jersey guy, but thanks to social media, he became known to so many of us who shared his passion for striped bass and plugs. You could ask a thousand surfcasters about Steve and not a single one of them would have a bad thing to say about him. He always seemed to carry this gift of enduring positivity and he welcomed anyone and everyone who came into his orbit with that same level of warmth and enthusiasm.
He was active in the Berkeley Striper Club and if my memory serves, he was even the president at one time. I made it down there for their flea market a few times over the years, and even in the throes and stresses of running a show, he always had time to stop and talk for a minute, and he always seemed happy, never stressed. Looking back, I’m realizing that I was seeing a man who was doing exactly what he wanted to be doing, he was among his people and immersed in his element. Of course he was happy!
Steve retired from his day job and took his passion to the beach, starting a surfcasting guide business along the Jersey Shore, yet another avenue for sharing his passion. I’m sad to say that I didn’t get to spend as much time with Steve as I wish I could have, but that is one of the bittersweet things about being immersed in this amazing community of fishermen that we are all a part of.
We form strong bonds through this shared passion and even though we may not see each other, sometimes for years in between, there’s never any question about what our connection is; it was always going to be ‘friends for life’. The hard part is accepting that for one of the people in every connection, the “for life” part of the equation will come true, and the other will be left to reflect.
Steve and Carl, I’ll see you both again, casting through some misty night or kicking off a predawn trip and I’ll do my best to live in the examples that you both set before me. Rest easy my friends.
