Bokeelia Reunion 2004

1979 – 2004, Bokeelia Silver Anniversary Reunion
May 15-22, 2004

The Real King (of Bokeelia)

A Humble Tribute To A Man Who Changed My Life.

The fact is, Dick Mastrobuono changed a lot of lives.

He touched us all. Like George Bailey in ³It¹s a Wonderful Life,² he impacted us in ways we could never imagine, and in ways that have taken me half a lifetime to fully appreciate. So many of us, who were once a bunch of impressionable tenderfoots, owe so much to Dick for the countless experiences and lessons he shared with us.

We can thank him for some of our most cherished memories, archived in photo albums and in tales recounted and improved upon year after year. We can thank him for some of the best times we¹ve had, and will continue to have, and for taking us to what would become some of our favorite places in the world. And we can thank him for not just watching us grow up, but helping us grow up.

This is what I remember about Dick Mastrobuono.

He was unfailingly generous. After all, he shared with us his most carefully guarded fish-catching hideouts, and never once protested when the secrets were leaked to a growing circle of interlopers. This was a man who allowed us to borrow the boat ‹ HIS boat and haul it halfway across the state to fish places littered with oysters and sandbars and countless other Stump Jumper-eating obstacles. He allowed us to borrow his son, when I¹m sure he himself would have loved to occupy a seat in the boat. And he even allowed us to borrow the house, for any number of crew parties, Cardinal initiations and Pigmania tournaments. Generosity, patience and understanding, indeed.

He was funny, too. Sometimes, to our amazement, he would wade out across the Indian River flat in the pre-dawn twilight with a beer can clenched firmly in his teeth. As he strode away from us at his usual warp speed, we¹d occasionally catch the silhouette of Dick leaning his head back to take a swig, both hands feverishly working the rod and never missing a beat. As John McCabe would say, he was a Dude Among Dudes. One of my favorite pictures of the man who called me ³Tommy,² even as I reached adulthood, was taken years ago at the oyster bars on the back end of Jug Creek. There, with two of his sons in the background, I see Dick Mastro with his baseball cap on sideways and a big smile on his face. I know that smile. I wear it every time I think of the amazing places I would never have known otherwise.

Dick Mastrobuono was more than a good fisherman. He was a good mentor. He expected us to act like men long before we owned a razor or a set of car keys. In our younger days, he would share his knowledge with us but never in a coddling manner; the boys were allowed to explore, to gain confidence, and to get acquainted with stingrays in our own time and in our own space.We learned by watching the master at work. We learned quickly, and we got better. But we never got better than him.

Thinking back, I also remember how much fun it was to go to the house on Bromley Road. Trying snook sashimi for the first time. And venison sautéed in butter and onions. And squirrelys and dumplin¹s, too. And learning how to tie knots, and rig rigs, and put hunting clothes in bags of acorns. It was a magical place, and a magical time, and I take great pleasure in knowing that the friends I made then have become friends for life.

We have also become, I¹m proud to say, part of Dick Mastrobuono¹s legacy.Chances are, without his influence, I would never have become addicted to flats fishing, one of my greatest passions in life. I definitely wouldn¹t know the mystical secrets of fishing The Rig. I wouldn¹t know of a place called The Depot, the scene of some of the best, most epic days of fishing I¹ve ever experienced. And I wouldn¹t spend all year, every year, looking forward to another trip with dear friends to Bokeelia, one of my favorite places in all the world.

Certainly, if it weren¹t for Dick Mastro, I wouldn¹t live where I do now, in the little treehouse on Riveredge Drive. The very street where he first took me fishing almost 30 years ago. All I have to do is walk out my back door and I¹m reminded of how fortunate I am to have known him. Without a hint of exaggeration, I can say that Dick Mastrobuono had a tremendous impact on my life, and on the lives of my friends. And 30 years later, whether we¹re fishing or not, he is still with us.

He will be with us in Bokeelia in May.

He will always be with us.

And I will always be thankful for that.

Wood

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