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It saddens me to think that my four grandchildren will never have the opportunity to experience the sport of fishing the way it was during the last four generations of my family or even up to 25 years ago, when my kids were growing up. When I think that my grandchildren will never have the opportunity to go on any dock on or the adjacent waters of the Great South Bay, shining a light at night to attract blue crabs into their nets. Or to catch weakfish, flounders, or bluefish off the docks, or the beach, it makes me wonder about the future of our sport.

I grew up fishing the Great South Bay near Long Island, NY. It wasn't only what we caught off the docks but all during the year, during a lifetime on the Bay. Come spring, my brother Frank and I would go a half-mile out of the canal in our small boat, set the anchor and catch flounders while digging clams at the same time. On calm days we'd take our boat outside Fire Island Inlet and catch mackerel. Or troll the beach along the edge of the bar and inlet, catching striped bass and blues. Soon after, we'd be chumming with grass shrimp, catching weakfish.

In June the harpooners would be on the hunt for swordfish, and if you were lucky, like I was - aside from loosing a few - you might reel in one or two. Later in the month, the school tunas arrived. Oftentimes they would be as close as two miles off Fire Island Inlet and big enough to strip a 9/0. Those adventurous fishermen with a pioneering spirit wanting to catch a lot of tunas, would venture beyond the red buoy, southeast some five miles where not just schooling bluefins but yellowfin tunas used to mass.

Giant tuna are another story. As a kid, we lost plenty fishing outside Fire Island Inlet mostly because we lacked the tackle and know how to catch one. As the years passed and we learned, we caught them off Rhode Island and Massachussetts right off the beach to 15 miles offshore. Fishing out of Nova Scotia and Newfoundland is an all together different story. At Canso they swam so close to shore, all you needed was a strong chair and a winch to land one.

As for swordfish. Daytime sight fishing is history. Ask any of the pilots that used spot them and they'll tell you the last time they saw more than one wasn't yesterday, or any other yesterday in the last 15 years.

Where have all the fishes gone. I could go on and on telling this tale but the bottom line is, unfortunately, fishing will never again be like it was during my lifetime. I was fortunate. I saw it all, lived a lot of it. The two generations before me along with my brother Frank and my sons have had the good fortune to experience the best of it. As for my grandkids, I'm afraid if I don't get them started now, fishing will be something that just used to be.

I want my grandkids to know what fishing is. I want them to share some of the experiences I had on Great South Bay. And sometimes, they act like they want to.They constantly ask me, "Gramp's, when ya gonna take us sailfishing?" If I see the weather is going to be favorable for fishing, I'll call them them and say, get ready. It looks like the day after tomorrow is gonna be good. They hoot and holler with excitement, they act like they can't wait. Be that as it may be, more than once, when I made plans with them, they never showed. I'd fuel the boat. Order live bait. Make the lunches. Rig the lines. But they don't show. So I call them. What happened? They say, "we forgot gramps. We had motorcross today, or some excuse like it.

The days they do show if there are no fish biting within 15 minutes of lines out they've got the toolbox out and are taking my boat apart just to have something to do. I'm concerned that if I take them out one too many times and we don't catch something, they'll become jaded and not want to go fishing ever again. That's why now, I've found it best to wait until the bonitos show, so they'll have plenty to pull on if the billfish don't show. One thing you gotta be careful of, though, is not to let on that in the olden days bonito were nothing more than a pain in the butt. They ate the baits we rigged and trolled for sailfish. Yuk. Sorry Charlie!

Here's another tip I've picked up when taking the grandkids out.

First and foremost, they have to commit. That means they spend the night at my house. And they have to stay out at least four hours, no excuses. No more 28-minute fishing trips!

Editor's Note: This chapter was written as part of Capt. Ed Murray's memoirs, which are to be published sometime in the future.