Transcript One of Two
This is one of two George Grant audio tracks orginally recorded on cassette tape. This sounds like George reading from a manuscript previously typed out on a typwriter. It's actually more interesting in print. This is George Grant's life story, as told by George himself.
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The better part of the first two decades
of my life had little to do with trout
fishing and nothing at all to do with
fly tying. I was born in Butte Montana, a
rough-and-ready mining town. My early
years were more seriously concerned with
a hard struggle to merely survive.
Tragedy was a constant companion in the
form of mine disasters violent
labor-management disputes that were
arbitrated with bombs and guns and
strikes that idled men for months and
always there were long bitterly cold
winters with not enough food clothing or
warmth.
Wood-Duck-Featherback.jpg
He sure did nice work
I have memories of World War one
of an epidemic of influenza that took
hundreds of lives and persistent
post-war depression. My father was a
sturdy Illinois farmhand semi-pro
baseball player and spanish-american War
veteran who worked in the dangerous
depths of Butte's copper mines to feed and
clothe his family.
He escaped the violent
death that befell many but on a cold
January night in 1929 I held him in my
arms while the remnants of his metal
laden lungs hemorrhaged out of his nose
and mouth.
My wife's own father was killed in an
underground mine accident. These were
truly hard times and death in various
guises stalked the streets and entered
the humble homes with great frequency.
It is however no longer a question of who
was right and who was wrong or why it
had to be that way. These accounts and
circumstances are included here only to
acquaint the listener with the fact that
my youth was spent in a region and a time
of violent social change, a time that was
not conducive to contemplative
recreational pursuits such as childhood
fishing.
if trout were mentioned at all it very
likely would have been in relation to
their desirability as a meat stretcher
on the table rather than a discussion of
the various attributes that are so
highly valued today. My mother, also from
a small town in Illinois was a strong
resourceful resilient woman tempered
with a kind heart that compelled her to
feed bread crust to wild birds on cold
snowy mornings when we had scarcely
enough to feed ourselves.
She refused to
succumb to the rigors of climate or the
adversity of fate, persevering to within
a few months of her 96th year as an expert
seamstress. She plied her trade until she
was 91. My maternal grandmother was a
gentle French immigrant who understood
and spoke seven languages sufficiently
well to serve as a paid interpreter she
was an accomplished self trained artist
and the mother of eleven children of
which my mother was the eldest.
Perhaps somewhere in this ancestry lay the genes
that were eventually to result in an
individual who believes fly-tying
is a useful therapeutic tool that on
occasion allows the mind to retreat from
a busy world, also an avocation that
satisfies the creative urge of many
individuals whose everyday activities
may border on monotony above all a
fascinating endeavor.
That is a most vital factor in the
conservation and perpetuation of wild
trout for though it provides an
effective means of capture it also
allows the quarry to be returned
relatively unharmed to continue to exist.
Because I was a frail youngster, the runt
of the litter in a family of physical
stalwarts I was viewed by them with much
consternation and despair. It was evident
that my future did not include toiling
in the mines or in doing heavy work of
any kind. Realizing this my parents
wisely instructed me to enroll in high
school courses that would be compatible
with my lack of size and strength.
I studied typing shorthand bookkeeping
and elementary journalism. Upon
graduation I continued my preparation in
business college. I became interested in
fly tying about 1928 and it has been a
consuming passion ever since. Fly fishing
and fly tying were things that I could
do fairly well and this gave me a
feeling of confidence and achievement,
but even more these activities brought
me in touch through books and magazines
with well-educated intelligent and humane individuals who
taught me that trout were beautiful
courageous wild creatures and while
intensely interesting to pursue they
were also too important and valuable to
kill.
At the age of eighteen I was
personal secretary to the president of a
small railroad that ran from Armstead
Montana to Salmon Idaho. Residency in
Armstead is now drowned forever at the bottom
of Clark Canyon Dam was made more
tenable by the close proximity of the
Red Rock and Beaver Head rivers which
were then renowned for their large
rainbow and Eastern brook Trout, but not
yet populated by the now dominant Brown
which was slowly working its way up
through the Jefferson.
Later i occupied
similar positions with several prominent
men leaders informing and guiding the
affairs of raucous immoral freewheeling
Butte, a place where I was to live all my
life but never really belonged except
perhaps for the fact that the site was
the hub of a surrounding countryside
made lush and green by the world's
greatest concentration of beautiful wild
trout streams and possibly too because
my being there was a was part of a
master plan which I could not alter.
It was exciting to be closely associated
with these interesting men and bask in
their reflected glory but many days
spent at their elbow gave me insight
into their private lives and it soon
became apparent to me that success and
contentment were not synonymous.
My own life in contrast was routine and simple
a source of some annoyance to my
employers they said on more than one
occasion young man you should try to
make something of yourself but I also
sensed a certain degree of Envy among
them because of my unsophisticated
lifestyle and the seemingly unlimited
pleasure that I derived from my
obsession with the outdoors.
They of course had no way of knowing
and even I was not certain of it but
desire and circumstance were drawing me
irresistibly toward a life so foreign to
my family background my business
training and the mining camp mentality
that prevailed all around me that it was
difficult for others to understand my
motives in retrospect it is now apparent
that I was simply predestined to lead an
idyllic life wading fabulous western
trout streams dressing artificial
creations to copy the aquatic insects
and deceived a large wild child that
lived within them enjoying the mystique
and endless variety that is part of the
sport called fly-fishing but which too
many of us is a passport to another
world.
As time passed unknown to them but
through their writings I was being
instructed in basic fly-tying by Paul
Young, George HerTer, Roger Woolly, Major JH Hale and others.
I was being introduced to (there is a skip jump in the cassette tape here)
not through something new and exciting
artificial name theory and development
by the early pioneers in this country.
Edward Ringwood Hewitt and John Alden
Knight. I was learning the rudiments of
the little known world of dry fly
fishing, at least it was new to me by
reading the writings of Emlyn Gill and
George LaBranche my knowledge was being
enhanced in the field of trout stream
entomology through the works of Louis
Rhead and Peter Clausen.
I learned about fly tying materials from Herter's
fascinating and all-encompassing
catalogue. The flies of Jack Boehme
Bill Beaty and Franz Pott, famous montana fly
tiers of an era, were being dissected thread by
thread on my fly tying bench. I looked
upon these men then with awe and
admiration because of their knowledge
and fame.
Today I recall them as another
might recall his favorite college
professors. You (sic) would seem to know
everything worth knowing about
fly-fishing and he presented his ideas
with such convincing and final authority
that even the slightest doubt seemed
unthinkable.
Herter was somewhat similar
everything in his catalogue, if you
believed him, was superior he also seemed
to convey the idea that these wonderful
products could not be obtained from any
other source. His way of doing anything was better
ranging from how to cook a trout to how
to make insect repellent.
I liked Louis Rhead because he called
insects by names I could understand and
pronounce in addition he was a
consummate artist and the color plates
in his book American Trout Stream
Insects were and are superb to this day.
I resent his critics.
Major Hale wrote
about tying classic Scottish and English
salmon flight patterns and I learned
much about attention to detail from him.
Paul Young was my favorite because he
took time out from her busy schedule to
write me detailed letters in longhand
that supplied me with answers to many of
my fly-tying problems and fortified my
knowledge of materials.
In 1933 a wonderful thing happened. I lost my job. I
can say that now and really mean it but
it is quite likely that I did not think
it was so wonderful then.
in that time of deep depression you
didn't look for another job because
there weren't any for the next three
years. June through October I lived in a
small cabin rented at a fee of $5 per
month, located on the bank of the Big
Hole River near a place called Dewey. In
the winter I returned to Butte and tied
flies supplementing my income with my
typewriter and temporary employment
during those summers I learned a great
deal about the river and I live the kind
of life that many young anglers dream
about but probably will never have the
opportunity to experience.
This was the golden era of trout fishing in Montana
superior to what had gone before and a
time that will never be repeated in the
future.
The Madison was at its peak and the big
hole was probably even better although
not as well-known. The quality of fishing
in Montana the southwestern part at
least was unsurpassed any place in the
world it is quite likely that it was
better than that experience today in
Alaska British Columbia New Zealand
Argentina or other faraway places.
My only regret is that at times I
considered the mundane requirements of
everyday living more important than
being on the river as my knowledge of
trout fishing and my flying capabilities
increased I began to think seriously
about becoming a full-time professional
fly tier and ultimately the proprietor
of my own tackle shop.
In those days such
a choice of livelihood was regarded as
hovering somewhere between foolish and
insane especially if you were trained
and qualified to do something more traditional
Over the years my quest for a small
amount of success in this field for
recognition and for escape from
obscurity led me into several phases of
fly tying and tackle shop operations
that were less than sensational.
There were disappointments diversions
disillusionment and outright failures
but through it all I somehow retained a
dogged determination and spirit of
optimism never losing that intangible
attraction that even to this day draws
me to the vise in Winter and to the river
in Summer. As one might suspect I am poor
in material things but rich in fly
tying and fly fishing experience, and
memories of military service, marriage and
entry into the wholesale retail sporting
goods business curl(sic) curtailed my
timestream in later years to a certain
extent but only slightly.
I retierd early at the age of 61 in order to pursue my
fly-tying ambitions not because I could
afford to do so but because I had a
working wife who supported me both
literally and spiritually every inch of
the way during the first four years.
After my retierment I wrote two books on
fly tying. The manuscripts were sent to a
number of publishers and were routinely
returned with the usual rejection
remarks, however at least one from one of
this country's foremost publishers of
sporting books for a note of optimism it
said we have studied your material and
discussed it unfortunately we conclude
that while this is fascinating
interesting provocative and perhaps
groundbreaking it comes at a time when,
and several reasons followed, all
negative.
Disheartened but not wanting to
give up I decided to publish the books
on my own. This was done in two paper
packs which admittedly were amateurish
and crude although I lacked artistic
ability I did all the drawings and the
results were pretty much as one would
expect despite all this the books had a
combined sale of about ten thousand
copies before I allowed them to go out
of print.
However what was more important they
introduced my name and my methods to a
large number of people I was invited to
attend and demonstrate my techniques and
display my flies at the Federation of fly
fisherman's National Conclave at Sun
Valley Idaho in 1972. This was at a time
when I was about as well-known as my
unorthodox fly-tying methods.
Eventually I found myself seated at a long fly
tying table alongside such notables as
Art Flik, Dave Whitlock, Polly Rosebough,
Doug Swisher and Carl Richards. I felt
that I was out of place and I was
extremely ill at ease. I was 67 years old
and I had never previously tied a fly in
public. Since early youth I have been
afflicted with a hereditary tremor,
a mild incurable disorder of the nervous
system that can be masked by a
self-imposed exterior calm under normal
conditions, but is activated
uncontrollably by stress.
This occasion was no exception. My hands
trembled. I dropped tools and I broke threads,
things I could do at home with my eyes
closed. I could not do well at all I considered
feigning illness and asking to be
excused, but I did not because I wanted
desperately to show to this
knowledgeable audience the techniques I
had developed over many long years and
which I truly believed to be a
revolutionary method of fly tying.
The interest of the onlookers was intense.
They had never seen a hackle woven onto
thread with strands of hair nor had they
ever seen a realistic looking artificial
nymph body he emerged from a short
length of flat monofilament fishing line
these people all strangers to me were
patient and understanding and their
genuine interest enabled me to continue
with ever-increasing confidence today
many of them are among my very best
friends and supporters the following
year 1973 perhaps out of sympathy or to
compensate me for the ordeal they had
unwittingly inflicted on me the previous
year the Federation presented me with
the Wayne buzz Buzek memorial fly-tying
award. This award is given each year to
the fly tier who is considered to have
contributed most significantly to the
advancement of the art during that
particular year or in some cases for
achievements that have extended over a
period of many years.
I regard this event
and many others that have since occurred
as a culmination of a destiny that was
set in stone many years ago.
The fulfillment of which while painfully
slow was nevertheless inevitable.
Remembering my early years I derive much
pleasure from embrionic fly tyers whose
questions and interest take me back to
the days when I wrote the great fly
tiers of the world many of whom took the
time to reply. I quote from a letter
received during the past year: "I admire a
perfectionist and I place you in that
category I am NOT a 24 year old person
infatuated by the master but a 40 year
old man who falls into that category.
Perhaps you think I am crazy in real
life. I manage a jet engine shop and
employ 78 people so I guess I wouldn't
fall into the crazy category what has
happened to me in the past four years.
I am sure happened to you many years ago I
was bitten by the fly fishing and fly
tying bug. The following is an excerpt
from my reply you must have sensed
something in my writing because at one
time I was the world's super enthusiast
in matters relating to fly fishing and
fly tying.
Age and physical limitations no
longer permit me to indulge in either of
these activities to the extent I would
like however I have not lost my
enthusiasm and I sincerely doubt that I
ever will. Fly fishing is a world within
a world and you are most fortunate to
have discovered it it is probably tried
to quote the old saying fishing is a
disease for which thank God there is no
cure but it is true and could be
extended to include fly tying
as well as other aspects of fishing.
I know a young man who graduated laude
from a technical college whose entrance
examinations eliminate most prospective
students. He could name a starting salary
with a choice of large industrial firms
but he prefers to operate a sporting
goods store because it keeps him in
close touch with the things he loves and
allows him to remain in wild trout
Country.
I know a young artist one of the
best at what he does but would rather
draw pictures of caddis and mayflies and
illustrate articles in fishing magazine
than to live in a crowded city and make
better money, working on a nine-to-five
job.
I am acquainted with many young men
who would sacrifice almost anything to
operate a tackle shop in trout country
and while I do not encourage them
knowing that all is not what it seems to
be I feel that I understand them to a
greater extent and most others would who
can say that they are wrong. I believe
that as long as we have wild trout and
wild trout rivers we will have young men
who are captivated by them and they will
continue to enjoy a way of life that has
attracted and held such a wide variety
of intellects and enthusiasms down
through the centuries.
I think this is good for mankind in general and
especially good for the individual who
participates in it.