|
Click to download the printable Sharkman presale pledge package THANK YOU!!
THE SHARKMAN OF CORTEZ
INTRODUCTION by Marisa Mangani
On July 1, 1916 25 year old Charles Epting Vansant went for a late afternoon swim with his dog at Beach Haven, New Jersey. After repeated screams and panicked flailing in clouds of his own blood, he was pulled from the water by a lifeguard who later told officials that a shark had followed them toward the beach. The flesh had been stripped from Mr. Vansant's left thigh and he eventually bled to death on the manager's desk at the Engleside Hotel. Despite the lifeguard's claims about the shark following him and, despite sightings of large sharks reported by sea captains entering the ports of New York and Newark, the beaches along the Jersey Shore remained open. Four more shark attacks occurred along the Jersey coast soon afterwards, three of which were fatal.
Misconceptions abounded. The bloody death of poor Mr. Vansant was blamed on a German U-boat, a sea turtle, mistaken identity from a big fish going after the dog. It took two more casualties after Mr. Vansant's death before Jersey Shore officials began to take the threat seriously and consider the safety of their bathers over their summer economies.
Today we enjoy more enlightened scientific information about shark behavior. There have been hundreds of shark bites and attacks documented since those early days at the Jersey Shore when proof of a shark attacking a human was unheard of. But unfortunately not much else has changed in 93 years: money still trumps human life.
When I met Captain Bill in the early fall of 2004, sharks were the furthest beasts from my mind. Sure, I'd seen Jaws in 1975 in my native Hawaii and was squeamish about swimming and surfing in my beloved Pacific backyard for a time after that - I mean, who wasn't after Jaws hit the screen? But that was about it until I had the opportunity to scan Captain Bill's first manuscript and the underwater photographs taken during his career as a commercial shark fisherman. "You got all these scientists trying to catagorize and predict shark behavior, calling themselves 'experts' but the only thing predictable about sharks is that they're unpredictable," he told me over a cold beer at Cortez Kitchen.
Curiosity about this man drove me to put down my other writing projects to help him carve out his story. What kind of man goes out in a 22-foot-long boat, by himself, to catch 16 foot sharks? What drives him to painstakingly document every behavioral detail of every one of the 6,000 sharks he's caught between the beach and six miles off shore? Why does he shun the so-called experts?
Through Captain Bill's stories, photographs and small tours around Sarasota and neighboring keys (islands), I began to see the world though the eyes and heart of the young man who ran away to Sarasota in 1967. I saw huge expanses of undeveloped beaches, reefs teeming with rainbow-colored fish, quaint cottages in Siesta Key Village and fishermen lining their boats up at fishmarkets ready to sell their daily catch. And I saw Bill, young and energetic, dragging his sharks up on the shore to ready them for sale - the meat, the jaws, even the vertebrae for local jewelry artisans. I had to focus sharply to see these things because in my periphery were the distracting, cluttered scenes of today: the grey sand of dredged up beaches, sterile high-rises, dead fish from Red Tide, personal water craft on the water's edge instead of fishing boats. And there was something else I began to see. A truth emerging, one that was contrary to my otherwise environmentalist mentality.
It had begun in the seventies, when the tourist boom and resultant development was hitting hard in Florida. The decade on the heels of the flower-power sixties held two dichotomous groups: the save-the-environment-from-the-bad-guys group who were still gazing, starry eyed at the world in their post-hallucinogenic haze, and the let's-make-money-no-matter-what group who determined the best way to claim the beautiful beaches for their runaway development would be to rid them of those dirty fishermen.
The ecology era became legitimate. So, what better way to divert attention from mowing down mangroves and dumping fertilizer into the water than by pointing fingers at the 'resource-depleting' fishermen? Net bans and catch limits were imposed upon the weary fishermen as the environmentalist bandwagon became the speeding vehicle to jump onto for those needing to leave their own environmental indiscretions as dust specks in the distance.
Now, thirty years later, it is status quo for those who need a cause to leap with fervor onto the nearest environmental train. Save the whale, save the shark, save the spotted owl. These are all good causes - we mustn't disrupt nature's ecosystems, right? But what is not considered are the salaries of many people running these not-for-profit and government-funded organizations which are earned from donations and government grants. This inspires that horrid, human trait, Self Interest. Also, the politicians kowtow to these groups to gain votes- it's the American way!
Consider the curator of the International Shark Attack File and noted shark "expert" George Burgess. What a great job he has wearing a Hawaiian shirt to the office every day in the Museum of Natural History at the University of Florida in Gainesville, waiting for an interview whenever a shark attack occurs and dreaming up brilliant tips on how to avoid a shark attack like, "stay in groups." Fishermen in general feel he downplays shark attacks, relegating many of them to the "provoked" column, thereby keeping the documented attack numbers down. This keeps in check the lightning theory that more people die from lightning strikes per year than from shark attacks.
Most riling was his interview with the survivors of the USS Indianapolis for last season's Discovery Channel's Sharkweek feature, "Ocean of Fear." Environmentalists and eco-bloggers alike tried to boycott Discovery Channel for their so-called sensationalistic shark coverage but here's what those who were really watching the program saw: George Burgess attending a reunion of the survivors, most of whom are now approaching ninety, and interviewing them about their experiences during the "worst shark attack of all time." (Remember how Quint, in Jaws, relays this story to Hooper and Brody on the boat). Mr. Burgess, upon listening to the horrific accounts of the retired sailors, of the screams of their friends before being pulled under, claimed that there is no evidence that any of the men were alive when the sharks devoured them. There was dehydration, hallucinations...in fact, we need to protect the sharks! (Meanwhile chanting to himself, I'll keep my job, I'll keep my job, I'll keep...) Amid the obvious carnage this foremost authority on sharks is splitting hairs over whether the victims were alive or dead when the sharks ate them. Does it matter? Other government agencies and publicly funded groups like Mote Marine Laboratory, The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, and The National Marine Fisheries, all read from the same script. Why do our tax dollars pay to justify the existence of sharks over people, instead of perhaps informing people of shark realities so they can make informed swimming decisions at the beach?
Captain Bill will have none of this. He's a truth seeker and, during his 40 year sojourn into the world of sharks, he has learned plenty. Sharks are predators. Sharks eat, vomit, eat more and reproduce. A rogue, beach-loafing shark near shore will chomp a human. That's about it. Necessary for the food chain? Of course. Worthy of fanatical protection? No. Even Eugene Lapointe, former Secretary General of CITES (Convention on International Trade on Endangered Species, Wild Fauna and Flora) believes in sustainable utilization of terrestrial and marine wildlife resources. This includes Man as part of the ecology of species. For example, the Japanese have been shark fishing off their shores for over a hundred years, not depleting their resources and utilizing the entire shark, resulting in important employment and economic opportunities.
Through all this environmental frenzy, it has been the economic opportunities of Captain Bill and commercial fishermen like him that became threatened, then endangered, and now are nearing extinction. This important segment of our population is now mowing grass and flipping burgers. Meanwhile the environmentalist space ship shoots onward, dollar bills fluttering in its purposeful and stately wind, its slick body covered with the white knuckled do-gooders, hanging on greedily, looking down upon the poor, burger-flipping former fishermen and those in the water who have sacrificed a limb or their lives for the sake of those poor little sharks.
As Captain Bill tours me around the now defunct historical fishing village of Cortez, where he once brought in tons of sharkmeat to sell to the area fishermen for crab bait, I see this injustice. I see it in the quaint cottages that once were affordable living for the fisherman, now sporting fancy vacation rental signs; I see it in the neglected wooden crab traps, stacked around the docks like misplaced punctuation; I hear it in the voices of visiting northerners, "Wow Marge, we're in Florida! This used to be a real live fishing village, will you look at that!" (Pointing to an egret perched on a sinking boat.) Sure, change is always inevitable, but must we sacrifice an entire economic segment of our population to save the poor shark? Captain Bill doesn't think so.
SHARKMAN OF CORTEZ...where the Old Man and the Sea meets Jaws....
By Captain Bill Goldschmitt & Marisa Mangani
When you read about a shark attack in the paper, do you shake your head, mutter "a shame," and head for the next headline? You're no different from most people then. Sure, your eyes may rest on the words a while if its particularly gruesome: a leg ripped off or the person is pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital because of the loss of blood. You can't do anything about it, so read on, get to the horoscope.
When Captain Bill Goldschmitt reads those same words, his blood runs cold. He's a (former) commercial shark fisherman who, between 1967 and 1985, captured, documented, studied, cleaned and sold over 6000 sharks. He, more than anyone, knows the facts about sharks and is incensed over the continual cover-ups that put money over human lives. He knows these attacks could be prevented, if not for the greed of so many and the fact that others perceive mankind as menace to the shark, not the other way around.
Sharkman of Cortez is Captain Bill Goldschmitt's story. Read about the true nature of sharks not presented in other books or in the media. It's a study of mother nature and human nature against the backdrop of Southwest Florida's pristine Gulf of Mexico and Gulf Islands in the 60's, 70's and 80's.
Inspired by childhood visits to the Miami Seaquarium, in 1967 Bill runs away from frozen Pittsburgh and lands himself on a picnic table at Siesta Key Beach. Caught up in the euphoric haze of sixties beach life, he begins to carve out a life loving and fishing. When his girlfriend, Beach Lynn, runs off to San Francisco and Bill's German Shepard is eaten alive by a hammerhead shark off Miromar Beach, he becomes consumed by love-hate for the beasts. At first, driven by his killer instinct, he realizes he has what it takes to hunt down sharks. Later, through extensive documentation and ingenuity, he pioneers catching sharks live and transporting them to area aquariums; he maintains them alive in open water pens at Mote Marine Laboratory, where the relationship between shark fisherman and scientists remains rocky. He learns that Mote scientists and shark experts have a professional or financial stake in shark protection and the whole advocacy racket.
Even before the epic Jaws movies, our self-taught shark hunter builds saltwater aquariums and opens a shop in Siesta Village; he builds a cage, drops underwater and takes photos of the man-eating sharks face-to-face. Later, he introduces to third generation fisherman in the fishing village of Cortez, sharkmeat for crab bait, selling tons of meat to close-knit fishermen who are weary of outsiders.
The public fascination for sharks doesn't temper the obstacles Captain Bill faces however: the Chamber of Commerce sends the Health Department to Bill's shop threatening to shut him down; media coverage dries up in an effort to pander to the tourist dollar; red tide hits, killing off his live sharks; development consumes Southwest's Florida's pristine beaches - choking off fishing; all this while shark attacks abound statewide and nationwide.
In the early eighties, government fishing regulations settle in. Bill has moved to Longboat Key and continues capturing rogue, beach loafing sharks near shore. He feels he's keeping the beaches safe from attacks so at first doesn't believe the regulations can touch him. But as the livelihoods of Cortez fishermen dry up, so does the market for shark meat. Even charters can't support Captain Bill's shark fishing. Cortez becomes a gentrified village of fru-fru-drink sipping tourists and Bill's livelihood withers. Shark encounters become the least of human worries as new predators gain momentum: The National Marine Fisheries Service, The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission and a slew of other self-proclaimed shark experts join an ever growing Government intervention to protect The Shark. Commercial fishermen are under attack.
Since 1985, without people like Bill to keep the truth about sharks in public forefront, the image of sharks has become one of a fantasy. Developers claim "our beaches are safe." The Discovery Channel's Shark Week draws millions of viewers and claims more sharks perish by the hooks of fishermen than people to sharks. (Little comfort to those who fall victim). It has become politically correct to jump on the Environmentalist bandwagon. The entire public opinion of sharks has been fogged over with impossibly thin and unsupported statistics about declining numbers and why they attack.(Maybe they're hungry??) Human legs get ripped off because of a complete disregard for human safety.
The aging old hunter wonders where the sympathy is for the victims of shark attacks. Instead, there are efforts to limit fishing as part of extreme preservation policies. Catch and release is the New Sport and all public sympathy goes to the poor shark!
Captain Bill's story will take you through a critical time in pre-boom Florida, a past not quite touched upon in the nostalgia of Jimmy Buffet songs, in the stories of John D. MacDonald or in the memories of old midwestern snowbirds. You'll read Sharkman of Cortez, learn about Florida's fishing past and wonder, "What happened?"
CAPTAIN BILL GOLDSCHMITT
"Do you love sharks?"
When I'm asked this question, I say, "Hell, yeah I love them! I love to hunt them, kill them and eat them! Shark teriyaki and smoked shark is quite good." Now having said this one might think I'm some redneck sonofabitch who kills sharks for some macho thrill. On the contrary, I'm a man who sees sharks for what they are. I don't try to complicate the facts. I made my living from the sea and have held onto my faith. I've prayed to the higher power, often at sea, to let me live another day, just to get it right. Hunting and killing sharks? I was a professional fisherman fighting to feed myself and my family. This book, Sharkman of Cortez , (as of 8-09, the book is complete and we're seeking representation) is a result of that quest. Whether you love or hate sharks, the book is a story of life's struggles and the American fisherman, a dying breed.
Come visit Siesta Key in the sixties, when pastel cottages dotted the landscape, pink sidewalks snaked through the little village, 'free love' was rampant, and fishermen talked about the giant mythical shark Old Hitler. Fish with me off Midnight Pass, pulling up thrashing tiger sharks, bull sharks and duskys, big enough to sink my boat. Dive in the crystal blue waters of the Keys, where fluorescent coral and rainbow-colored fish were plentiful. Then come with me to Longboat Key and Bradenton Beach in the seventies, where the common wage-earner could live across from beautiful white sand beaches and hang out in local beach bars. Drop down into an underwater cage and view live sharks swimming before you. Fish the shark-infested waters off Egmont Key. Visit the fishing village of Cortez where five fish houses teemed with the excitement of hard working fishermen weighing in their day's catch. Experience the frustration when it all changes, when everyone seems to get their way in Florida's boom except the working man. Fall in love, lose it and search for it again.
We'll keep you updated on the progress of the book. Visit the "Excerpt of the Novel" key for a taste. Send us an e-mail with your address if you like our site and we'll send you a free Sharkman brochure.
Meanwhile,
Good fishing, good loving and God bless you,
|
