Bush’s Blue: Finally, Fishing on a Presidential Scale

In the end, they all succumb.

However even-tempered they begin, presidents do not long resist the demands of myth: omnipotence, infallibility, power, the ability to catch fish.

Thus did George Bush, whose mother used to lecture him about not bragging, spend the last 18 days turning the simple sport of angling into a public test of presidential potency.

The test ended Sunday morning with a triumphant Bush summoning photographers and cameramen to watch him disembowel a 10-pound bluefish and toss its innards to the circling gulls.

Earlier, a triumphant White House aide had broadcast the news over the network of pagers worn by the dozens of reporters here: “The President caught a blue at 11:30 this morning. Details to follow. He caught a blue.”

Today, the President plans to return to Washington and work. A major speech on drugs is coming up. The federal deficit remains.

At least, the fish has been conquered.

The mania developed slowly. At first, in the early, innocent days, Bush would merely shrug when he returned to his Walkers Point home without a catch. Fishing is a sport of luck, he would point out. Guests on his boat, Fidelity, had caught fish, and he should get credit for that, he would insist. Have patience.

But as one fishless day became two, then three, and then a week had gone by and still no fish, the presidential patience wore thin.

Television reporters began to beard him with questions about his skill. Local merchants started hawking “Presidential Fish Watch” T-shirts. A Maine newspaper published daily reports. White House aides worked on implausible excuses.

“A vicious assault,” Bush said, joking about the fishing questions. But his laughter had an edge.

A President, after all, is not entirely a free agent. He is the central actor in a drama and he is not supposed to lose.

And so, last Sunday, emerging from church, Bush vowed: “Fish will be caught.”

‘1000 Dreams of Bite’

By Thursday, he was inviting reporters to view a Walkers Point pep rally that featured the 65-year-old President giving high fives to grandchildren chanting “We want a fish!” and holding placards that read: “A 1000 Dreams of Bite” and “Gampy, You can do it!”

But Thursday came and went with no fish caught. Friday, Bush was obliged to interrupt fishing and entertain the new Japanese prime minister in Washington. Saturday, no fish.

Sunday morning dawned clear and cool. “This is the morning. Right after church,” Bush told the vestrymen at St. Ann’s Episcopal.

Shortly after 11, accompanied by his wife, their son Marvin and Brent Scowcroft, the national security adviser, Bush boarded his boat. Nine Secret Service and news media chase boats stood by to follow.

Marvin raised his father’s arm above his head in a boxer’s salute. The party would stay out “as long as it takes,” the President declared. And Fidelity roared off to a meeting with destiny.