Goodbye to a Friend
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.
