My fishing friendship with George H.W. Bush
A former small-town weekly editor recalls special bond with late president
With the loss of George H.W. Bush, the 41st president of the United States at age 94, so many will — rightly — be commenting on the historical and political legacy of this giant of 20th-century American and world politics.
Canadians in particular should take pause and recall the death of a very special friend of our nation. Not since Franklin Roosevelt in the 1930s and 1940s have citizens of our country seen an American president devote such much time and positive attention to the nation north of his own.
And the results of Bush’s attentions and rare ability to listen and consider Canadian concerns remain today. When the original Free Trade Agreement talks between our countries were in danger of derailing during the Reagan era, it was then vice-president Bush to whom our prime minister, Brian Mulroney, successfully appealed. And when our lakes were dying from acid rain, it was Bush who defied many senior members of his own administration and did the right thing.
But for me, these are — again, rightfully — matters for historians and political scientists to debate and discuss for years to come.
When I heard of President Bush’s death, however, what I recalled was George Herbert Walker Bush, the fisherman who loved Canada, and a part of our country — the Arctic — that most of us barely consider. And I recalled, with gratitude, how this man and president from Houston and Kennebunkport, Maine changed my approach to journalism and politics.
In 1997, my wife and I moved to Fort Simpson, N.W.T., when I became editor of the mighty Deh Cho Drum weekly newspaper — circulation 900 or so. In our first weeks there, word reached me that Bush had been spotted at Yellowknife airport on his way to a fishing holiday in what is now Nunavut.
Upon hearing this I wrote him a letter, sending it by fax to his Houston office, and asked him to write an exclusive fishing column for my tiny paper.
Two weeks later, my wife and I — who lived above the paper’s office on Fort Simpson’s main street — heard the fax machine go off. I went downstairs and found a fivepage fax from Kennebunkport, full of spelling mistakes, and it was from Bush.
“I know the Deh Cho Drum is not the size of the New York Times or the Toronto papers,” he wrote, “but I also figured that the 900 so readers of your paper know more about fishing than the readers of those big-city papers.”
He then described his joy at fishing, with his grandson and others, way above the tree line, for char in High Arctic Canadian waters.
On the spot, I called the number on the fax and was connected to the Bush residence in Maine. Stammering out that I lived in the Northwest Territories, a voice said, “Yes, the Canadian fishing editor, I’ll put you right through to the president.”
So we had a nice chat, the former president and I, and I was therefore able to assure my own bosses in Yellowknife that yes, indeed, the column was real.
Then his column hit the international wires a few days later — we were a weekly, after all — and I received some fame I did not really deserve.
So that Christmas I mailed the president a fishing lure and note, highlighting my own fishing experiences that year — no politics at all. And he sent me a handwritten letter back where he reported on his own fishing that year.
I learned from him how our leaders are just like us — they’re people first. And I kept writing each year about fishing.
My annual angling reports continued until recently when his health declined. And he’d also write back, particularly mentioning any visits he made to Canada.
Once, in 2005, when my wife and I were in Houston on holidays, Bush invited us over for coffee. And we discussed fishing — not politics — once again.
He always signed his notes to me the same way: “Tight lines.” So upon his death after a fruitful life of service to America, to Canada and the world, I can only return the favour. Tight lines, Mr. President. And thank you a final time, from your fishing friend in Canada.