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| GOODBYE TO AN OLD FRIEND
Personal memories of Captain Mel Berman | By Frank Sargeant
Outdoors Correspondent
Franksargeant@bellsouth.net |
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| |  | | Many of
us will always hear his voice, somewhere in the
back of our heads, every time we step into a
boat or release a fish or turn on a radio.
Captain Mel Berman, who died February 4 at 81, was an icon to
anglers all over Florida, a conservation leader,
a master of his craft as radio host. But what
the hundreds of us who knew him will remember
was that he was simply a good man and a great
friend.
Mel had done it all, from interviewing premieres and potentates to
starring as a New York City Top 40 DJ. For 25
years, he hosted what was by far the largest
fishing show on radio in Florida, and perhaps in
the nation. | |
He was a sort of rock-star in his
field, and yet he treated every person he met
with the same respect and a natural friendliness
that was his greatest gift. In all the years I
knew him, I scarcely ever heard him say a harsh
word about anyone—except now and then when
somebody got caught violating the conservation
laws.
Mel loved fishing and that gradually translated into loving the
fishery and the conservation measures required
to maintain it. He became one of the strongest
spokesmen for effective regulations, and made
his show a pulpit where fishery biologists and
managers could interact with the public,
building an understanding and a trust that had
been absent for decades.
He seemed a man truly comfortable in his own skin; he had shaped a
life that suited him perfectly, and there was
nothing he would rather have been doing, even
though he was still working some 30 years after
he could have retired comfortably.
In fact, he seemed indefatigable; he rose at 4:30 every Saturday
morning to drive to the WFLA station, rain,
shine or hurricane, and there he put in a three
hour shift from 6 to 9 a.m. He went home, took a
nap, and worked on his fishing website,
www.capmel.com, most of the afternoon, except
during football season—Mel was as much a
football fan as he was an angler. He loved the
Gators, and on Sunday’s the Bucs.
He also found time to write hundreds of magazine articles, as well
as regular articles for the Tampa Tribune and
the St. Petersburg Times. He wrote two books,
the most recent, titled “Skinny” just now
available on Amazon.
Midweek usually saw him making a personal appearance somewhere,
typically a two or three hour “Fishing
Conversation” that would draw a hundred fans to
meet him in person. And almost without
exception, he took one day a week, sometimes two
or more, to spend on the water.
Mel started Florida fishing as an offshore angler, chasing grouper,
snapper and amberjacks, and he ran a charterboat
out of Tarpon Springs for years before beginning
the Captain Mel Show with 970-WFLA in 1984. As
he grew older, though, he began to find the
long, bumpy offshore rides less enjoyable, and
he gradually began exploring inshore fishing for
snook, reds and trout—and those were the fish he
truly adored chasing from that time until the
day he died.
Mel was rightly proud of his kids—a daughter who was a teacher and
wife of a physician, and a son who began work as
a floor-sweeper at Sea Ray Boats in Merritt
Island, and eventually worked his way up to be
president of the company. And he adored his
wife, Ginny—they seemed perfectly matched,
inseparable as a pair of swans.
I spent so many enjoyable trips with Mel it would be hard to pick
out any that were most memorable, but certainly
the ones we laughed about most afterwards were
two: on one night snooking trip with “Mad
Snooker” Dave Pomerleau, Mel accidentally stuck
a hook into the joint of my right thumb on a
backcast. Though the bite was going strong, Mel
insisted on accompanying me to the emergency
room where the offending barb was cut out.
“First 180-pounder I ever hooked,” Mel quipped.
A few months later, we joined Captain Fred Everson on a sundown
wadefishing expedition out of the Little Manatee
in Ruskin. We had no more than gotten to the
best flat when Mel got stuck by a stingray. We
loaded up the crew and raced to Fred’s place on
the river, where the wounded foot was soaked in
hot water until the pain went away. Mel later
said the most painful part of the experience was
missing the low tide bite.
We caught few fish on either of those trips, but they brought a lot
of chuckles through the years after.
There are hundreds of other stories like these floating around
Tampa, and hopefully a good many more of them
will be told at the Tribune Outdoors Expo March
5-7 at the Florida State Fairgrounds, where
we’ll be holding a “Memorial for Mel” at 2 p.m.
on Saturday.We would like to
extend our sincere appreciation to Mel's and our dear friend
Frank Sargeant, who was kind enough to let us post this for our
visitors. It will appear in the Sunday edition of the Tampa
Tribune.
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