COLUMN: Outdoor Type: Record-breaking bass, part I

Records are… yes, meant to be broken. Meaning that eventually, remarkably, maybe years later, someone, somewhere will come along and surpass the old mark, which was thought to be unbreakable.

Most bass fishermen are well aware of the largemouth record set by George Perry in 1932. Fishing Montgomery Lake, an oxbow near Jacksonville, Georgia, he pulled out a 22-pound, 4-ounce behemoth bigmouth. Before he took the fish home, he had the fish properly weighed and witnessed. No mounting for this fish; it was Depression time, and the catch made for two days of nice meal(s) for Perry's family.

Bass just don't get that big very often. California has produced some monsters in the last few years, though I haven't heard of a 20-pounder recently. But in 2009, a Japanese bass fisherman named Manabu Kurita fishing Lake Biwa near Kyoto hooked up a small bluegill. He pitched it into a dock area where he had seen a large bass swimming around. He got a strike. Rearing back, he felt the weight of something huge. After a short fight, he netted a bass that turned out to be the exact weight of Perry's, 22-4. So, the world record is truly a world mark, shared by two fishermen far apart. Ancient Lake Biwa had previously seen a 19-15 caught, so it's a big bass factory. Are there larger fish there, or in California, like in Lake Castaic, home of a 21-3 giant?

In Indiana, an eight-pounder is a real trophy. I've never caught one; a little over seven is my best. Ten-pound bass here are extremely rare. The state record was long held by Curt Reynolds, of Ferdinand at the time, who landed an 11-11 out of Ferdinand Lake in 1968. The new lake, the city water supply at one time, is located southeast of town. My dad and I fished there a few times, and I recall him mentioning that it was the home of the state record. Warren Alexander, a former grade school student of my dad's, finally broke that mark in 1990 with a 12-6 on a spinnerbait out of a two-acre pond in Perry County. But he didn't hold the title very long.

Enter a family from New Albany. Jenifer Stein Schultz, with her husband Mike and boys Jesse, age three, and Michael, age four, were ready to spend the weekend at her father's cabin on Seven Springs Lake near Elizabeth in southeastern Indiana. It was Memorial weekend, May 27, 1991, and it had been rainy. Jenifer, who was 31 at the time, had been taught how to bass fish by her husband and her father-in-law, Rev. Bill Schultz.

"Growing up I remember bluegill fishing," Jenifer said, "but our large family of nine kids mostly played tennis. I liked to explore the creek near New Albany and find tadpoles. When I married and had kids, we enjoyed having our family cabin and fishing on Seven Springs. The lake has around 100 lots, some cabins and some permanent homes."

Jenifer recalled that she and her husband were working many hours, and with the little boys it was great to get out to the cabin and relax.

"I remember the kids were really excited at the prospect of swimming," she said. "My husband had gotten up early and taken out our little jonboat to bass fish, but he hadn't any luck. Mike's a very good fisherman. His best out of our lake was an eight-pounder, but he always said that a ten-pounder was in there somewhere. We had a little beach where my dad had put down some sand. It was drizzly, but when it stopped the kids were eager to get down to the water. While they were splashing around, I walked out onto the dock. I tried a soft plastic bait, a Guido Bug, but got nothing. I walked down the bank. Our neighbors had made a little earthen dam out of some dredging they had done. It was usually above the water but now it was submerged. I caught a six-inch bass and joked to my husband relaxing on the porch that we could filet this one for supper. He laughed. I looked in my tackle box and saw a Pop-R, a surface lure. My husband had found it on the Ohio River. It looked brand new, so he put it into my tackle box. I tied it on. I was using a Berkley rod he had won at a casting contest at the Louisville Sport Show. My Shimano reel was a Christmas present from my brother-in-law. I tossed out the lure, twitched it a couple of times, and it just disappeared."

Patience, patience. I'll have the rest of the story for you next time.