I suppose my life really began in the commercial world after I graduated from Anthony Wayne High School in 1954 - in Whitehouse, Ohio. Between the towns of Monclova, Maumee, Waterville and Whitehouse, proves Ohio to be a rural area of thick corn, soybean, oats, and wheat fields. The Miami Valley of Ohio is regarded as being part of the 'truck farming belt' of the United States. The bar ditches teamed with muskrats, opossum, while raccoons worried the corn fields and red fox were always on the lookout for your chickens along with weasels and the occasional mink passing through the farm. Hedgerows divided everything owned within each section. Pheasants and wildlife in great abundance used to live here. Pheasants would flush honestly while today, they mostly run to escape. Crows by the tens of thousands filled the early morning skies. Flights of these beautifully black, raucously cawing birds would take hours to pass as they went from roost to the many farm fields to feed. Fall and the hard wood stands dazzled pre-winter days with all the colors of the rainbow. Farmers started harvesting wheat in mid July. Corn stalks higher than an elephant's eye turned crispy yellow in the hot august sun. Fall, soon crowded their time to become ripe with hard, golden kernels. Row after row were laid over by the harvesting machines and along with the crows, the pheasants ate the spillage in the fields to their heart's content. Yes, I was raised in pure country. In those days, when pheasant season came there was one thing country school principles and teachers didn't find fault with. Every boy of age went hunting with their dads. These were the days of George Herter and Jack O'Conner and trapping and when you finally got your first .22 rifle and your first fly rod from a grand father or dad; finally - the mishmash of things that memories are made of, forge a boy through the Boy Scouts and into the great American Outdoors.

How I turned out depended onmy upbringing which had a major bearing on fly fishing interests which began early in my life. I was lucky enough to be introduced to the first Tinker Toy, Erector Set, and Lionel Choo-choo trains and toys. Along with that, at my most formidable age which was around 5 - 6 years, I was fascinated with alphabet building blocks. They had letters on one side and pictures on others. I had access to hundreds of them and building things such as imaginary forts and barrier walls only to be knocked over by wildly spinning tops was pure glee. These were provided to me beginning at the St. Anthony's Orphanage where my Greek father Andrew Billis' sister (who had been baby sitting us), deposited my brother and myself one disturbing day. It took my mother over a year to get us out. In the meantime, I hovered and protected my brother Ted from all the hardships of abandonment. Yet, while in the Catholic orphanage, when summer came, we were hauled off to "Lady of the Lakes," a Catholic summer camp. It was an experience that was to burn into my memory like a branding iron along with certain iconic benchmarks. I was a terror to the nuns. I would flip the scum off the cold cocoa across the dining room at them and one day I hit one nun right between the eyes with the brown slime. I never was given cold cocoa again with scum on it.

At the age of five I knew nothing what a lie or stealing was about. A camp councilor had a wallet come up missing and for reasons unknown to me I was suspect because it happened in our tent. I was brought before a confessional priest and questioned to no end. Confession, to me was well instilled as a thing of great holiness or respect and again, not knowing anything about how to deny anything, I held my ground with this man in black until I finally kicked him hard and told him he had no right to tell me I did something I didn't do. He was, in fact, teaching me what lying was about and what it meant to steal something. I called him "a bad man and that I didn't like him." The priest, so taken aback by my spunk and bravery reported that I was definitely not the right suspect and the leader in the tent owed me special forgiveness. They later discovered the thief to be a fellow councilor who was immediately sent on his way. To this day, because of that, I have never told a lie and I have never stolen anything. These values are burned in me like precepts handed down from Jesus Christ himself.

The next unforgettable memory was the brutal coldness of the lake and how we all had to go swimming in it. We turned into walking goose pimples with two skinny legs turned blue. We learned about canoes and we learned the ways of lake country. It was the day when my tent leader took his little crew fishing that was the turning point in my life. I will never forget it.

It was a day filled with huge cumulous clouds and surrounding rain showers. I had a birthday that day. It was July 28, 1940 and I was now 7 years old. The water was crystal clear and you could see all the way to the bottom. Below, was a pasture of slowly waving stems of thick, wide bladed grass and lily pad stems. The instructor taught four of us how to put on crickets for bait or how to impale these little wiggly red worms. I caught fish like he had never seen another boy do. I looked up in pride with another yellow perch at the end of the line for him to remove with a smile so wide I thought I would tear my face, I suddenly realized we were surrounded by seven rainbows. The young man removed the fish and finally said, "George, someday you will be known in the world of fishing. Look around you. The Lady of this Lake has anointed you for greatness. Believe me! You are the best little fisherman I've ever seen," and with that he puts his hand on my little, skinny shoulder and smiles a smile I have never forgotten. It was as if someone suddenly had blessed me for being good. I suddenly knew, I would be a fisherman for the rest of my life. I liked the wiggly things.

1917 Poland - Grandfather Maris & My Mother Mary Ann age 7 after dentist removed sore tooth. Kitten was a present for bravery.

My mother met and fell in love with a man by the name of Ernest Charles Gehrke. He became our stepfather although the term 'stepfather' was never used in our household. Ernest Gehrke was one of the first glaziers that began with the new Pittsburgh Plate Glass Company. He was of German descent. It came to pass, years later, he would adopt my brother Ted and I and gave us his name. The fact that I don't have a drop of German blood in me continued unclaimed for years, for in fact I am Polish, Greek and Russian by birth with a hint of the Irish from my mother's grandfather's Irish side who's name was Grandpa Maris.

My Polish/Russian side is Kurczak and my Greek side is Billisopollis. The shortened Billis name has affiliation to Aristotle, the renowned Greek philosopher. On my Polish side is the name of an ancestor who's name is mentioned in the holy bible from the steppes of Europe. He was a warrior who escaped from prison and was shot in the back with several arrows while running across a stream to flee to freedom. I am the result of a confusing, lost history. I had, for instance, a multi-great grandmother who at the age of ninety nine had the village carpenter make her a coffin bed so that when she died in her sleep, it would be a simple matter to attach the lid and bury her with the least amount of trouble to the family and village. The expenses thus paid was indicative of how considerate the old were of the young but also how often the young didn't grasp such things. She slept in that bed for the next 45 years before they had to use the coffin. She died when she was 144 years old. It was not uncommon for this area of Poland to have local members live in excess of 120 years. The women worked hard even at old age and exercise was a prominent part of their daily lives. Attending herds of livestock to pasture, the garden, the daily pursuits of food which required over 80% of everyone's daily lifetime activities are unknown by our present generations. To scoff at such possibilities and truths today is testament to our own ignorance of days gone by.

My mother and new father settled in on 1914 Lockley Rd in Toledo Ohio. It was a simple five room bungalow with a basement, two bedrooms, a living room and kitchen off of which was a bathroom and a nice back-yard with a driveway and a garage. Behind that was a common alley. The years slipped by quickly as W.W. II raged on. Yet, we had our post depression toys of spinning, whistling tops, Tinker Toys, Lionel Electric Trains and Erector Set type toys. It was the Erector Set with all those screws and pulleys and string belts that exploded my imagination. From there, I graduated to fixing ticking clocks that wouldn't work anymore. It didn't matter that I couldn't get them back together at first. What was important, was I could take them apart! I had every advantage to cultivate an imagination. Anything that was broke, I tried to fix.

Saturdays and Sundays were spent with my uncle Casey, my mother's brother who was our best pal. We went to all the early movies when the price of a ticket was .05 cents and the serials drew us back year after year which ranged from Tom Mix, Flash Gordon, Zorro, Roy Rogers, Hoppalong Cassity, and endless new cartoons! These were some of the finest weekends of my entire life.

Casey Kurczak was more than a brother. He took us everywhere! He gave us quality times. The zoo, walks and spook stories through the big cemetary, stories read and adventures in the local creeks and parks made us look for him each week end. He never missed one for years to come. The following picture is when we were all three very, very young. Brother Ted is on Casey's shoulders and I'm in front. The google eyes made us laugh. This picture was taken in 1941 - 1942 The amazing part is all our voices are exactly the same. However; now my brother is dead and my Uncle is now 74 years old and I'm now 66. Time does fly! I a wink of and eye we go from there . . . to here. I sure miss my brother Ted.

Franklin Roosevelt then died and all the traffic in all the streets came to a literal stop. Silence fell across the city of Toledo and women suddenly came staggering out of their homes weeping on porches behind the windows of which flags of men still in service with single or more stars, sons and daughters to our great cause hung in solemn reminder. Radios suddenly could be heard from every home blaring the tragic news. They echoed up and down every street in the stunned city. Every car pulled over to the side of the roads to stop and listen. The silence became the loudest event. The earth stood still and birds could be heard singing while weeping women staggered across Loxsley Street into each other's arms for comfort. To this day, no event has ever stopped this nation as dramatically as the death of Franklin Delanor Roosevelt, not even John F. Kennedy' s death was as dramatic. It was a moment that froze history.

Rationing of gasoline and the saving of lard and grease in any kind of container imaginable so our fighting men could have explosives are now long forgotten and unknown by today's generation. I remember the Victory Gardens where any bare piece of city owned land (even parks) were converted into gardening plots so as to help the nation to feed itself. I remember the Civil Air Cadets and the watch towers where I had a duty to watch for airplanes flying along the flashing light airways of this nation. Every plane was reported and confirmed over a telephone. I remember the practice "lights out" air raids. Blankets were put over every window and the city became totally dark. Hitler affected every family in America. War, has no friends.

In 1946, the Gehrke family tired of city life. My parents sold out on Loxley Road and bought a 40 acre farm on Stitt Road north of Monclova, Ohio. I was 12 years old, my brother Ted was 11. It was an adventure that was to instill in me a work ethic inhuman by any standard. Ernie Gehrke had visions of being a farmer. He would now have to commute 22 miles to Toledo Ohio to work and come back each day to 'play farmer.' Chores each morning for him became unbearable. He had bought a farm with every imaginable animal possible. He had a thousand chickens, a pen full of rabbits, a goat, two draft horses for plowing, hogs, cows, and fields to be crop shared. We had pigeons, ducks and geese and why the ganders always chased me was not a pleasant adventure into the farm yard. We also had a full two acres of thick, green grass that never ceased growing and two huge Blue Spruce pine trees. There was a smoke house, a corn crib, a barn with hay racks and lofts, livestock stalls, a corral, and a milk house. We also had a water well upon which stood a hand pump that always needed priming. Why is that? Every farm in those days had water wells with hand pumps that needed priming. It was stupid to not also fill a large bucket with extra priming water besides what one needed for livestock and the house. Pumping water for the livestock took fifteen minutes of vigorous, heart pounding endurance. Horses and cows could drink forever.

The house was made from white oak timber as was all the out-buildings. It was impossible to pound a nail into this kind of wood. The wood was iron hard and the buildings were made out of timber from hard wood stands now long forgotten. Every open acre of ground had been cleared of magnificent trees that will never see the light of day again. The country home had a back porch where coal was set inside along with wood for the pot-belly fire place & kitchen stove. There was a kitchen, a bed room for Ted and I, a living room and front porch and a second bedroom for my parents. It was not a large house but it was set in a magnificent, huge lawn that I would learn to hate. To the west of the house, next to the lawn was a large orchard filled with every imaginable fruit tree one could wish for. The soil was clay loam that set on top of limestone, so it was sweet and it grew good crops. We were the first ones in the area to grow a crop of wheat that exceeded 60 bushels to the acre. One 20 acre tract had been in alfalfa for dozens of years. It was plowed under and planted with wheat. Loaded with nitrogen after all those years produced a crop that caused farmers from all around the area to come over to see for themselves. The property had two twenty acre parcels side by side separated by a hedge row. On the eastern twenty acres was a singular oil well, shut down from pure negligence. It would produce to this day if it was opened up, but one day my father dug down and cut the casing off below the ground and buried it, only after throwing several rocks and pieces of steel down into it. It was the dumbest thing he ever did in his life. I think about that oil well often and could walk to it like a thirsty horse would to water. It was and could be, to this day, a high yielding and/or consistent producing oil well.

In the meantime, we would be allowed to visit my father Andy Billis from time to time. Andy, was a professional boxer and he taught me how to fight. I mean, not just fight, but fight to win. Almost Hollywood style. He always said I had 'a flair' for it. I have on that side of the family two brothers and another sister. Put all together, I have between them, four brothers and two sisters. What a mess. I learned that divorces are not fun and parents do not realize the lifetime of upheaval children have to carry within themselves for the rest of their lives.

I was suddenly left with the farm chores. It took me three hours to do them, every morning and every night. If there ever existed a little boy that was abused regarding child labor laws, it was I. Those years were the darkest in my life and also the most instilling. It made me fiercely independent and mentally strong. Hate can be an ally if you need an ally in order to survive. But I'll exchange it for love any day.

Our neighbors had sheep and I used to earn extra money with an old woman who still ran her farm as her husband had passed away and she needed someone to do chores and some housework. She could not see. Working around the sheep caused me to contract 'tick fever' also known as "Rocky Mountain Yellow Fever" - Rheumatic fever and later heart trouble at the same time. It laid me low. I wasn't expected to survive without serious heart damage. I ended up in a Toledo hospital at the same time that penicillin was invented. I was one of the very first patients in the world to receive it as a life saving drug. Penicillin came in a beeswax form and the injections required very large needles stuck into the buttocks. The actual count over a months period of time was 72 injections. As I lay in that hospital bed, I read many Walt Disney comic books and I began to draw. My pictures were displayed up and down the ward. I had learned that a grand-daughter to a famous man was also in the hospital in the room next to mine. That person was a relative of Walt Disney himself who, one day came to my room and sat down on the bed beside me, talking to me about my drawing talents and how he had heard how brave I was. He had been told how painful the shots were because of the thick nature of the media and how I was a guiding light for those who were to follow. Walt Disney was a man of great family values. He complimented me on my work and encouraged me to be brave. He told me how much all the nurses admired me and finally he said, "Georgie, I want you to keep practicing your drawings for they are very good. If you ever want to go to art school, I will pay for it and after that, if you want to come and work with me, I want you to know you will always have a job with me. I want you to remember that." He shook my hand, and finally asked me if he could have the picture he had in his hand. I said, "Yes, please keep it. Ihope it's good enough." Walt smiled and said, "I want you to know I will never forget you George. Just get well and keep working hard. Just promise me you will get well." I said, "I promise," and he left. Years later, I was to pass that offer up even though I kept up my sketching. Life's destiny took me down another path through the forests of life.

I was released from the hospital only to go home to stay flat on my back. I looked out the window at my brother going to school and others running and playing. My mother brought me books to read. I suddenly discovered the world of Teddy Roosevelt. His writings regarding 'vigor' and a healthy attitude did wonders to my imagination. I followed him through his endeavors to be a strong man from a youth of weakness which I could relate with. His adventures in the America's West, his hunting trips which included a major expedition to the dark continent of Africa. I made up my mind that Teddy Roosevelt was not only a hero to me, but I would dedicate my life to the principles that made him strong and a winner. I made up my mind that I would do everything in my power to be well and strong even if it killed me. Soon, I was allowed to go to school as long as I walked only to the bus, got off and walked SLOWLY to each class. All my teachers had specific instructions that I was not allowed to play or run.

Behind my mother's back, I made an arrangement with my bus driver that I would be found farther and farther down the road by the time it was to pick me up. I would walk a telephone pole length for a week and run a telephone pole length. In a matter of a month, the School Bus would be picking me up farther and farther down Stitt Road. Within six months, I was racing the school bus across the farm fields to Monclova Grade School until finally, one day, it picked up my brother in front of our house and instead of me getting on, I told the driver I was going to race him to school while he had to go from stop to stop. The distance was two miles. I beat him. I knew I had made it. I was going to live. I had become a world class runner. I had the flight of a deer and the stamina of an Indian.

At my yearly examination by Dr. Kirkbride in Toledo who had already saved my life by being one of the first to use penicillin, was astounded that I had no heart murmurs. It was supposed to be an impossible side affect from one afflicted such as I. I was pronounced perfectly fit! It was a joyous day and we left his office in such a flutter of excitement that my mother discovered at the bus stop that she had forgotten her purse. I ran all the way back to the office to retrieve it and it was the first time I was allowed to run before her eyes. It was that day she took me to Franklin's Five & Dime Drug Store and bought me my first Banana Split as my reward. I have loved Banana Splits all my life and although I can't have them anymore, they are - to me- the ultimate ice cream treat.

I continued to race the bus and on week ends I ran all the more. One day, I told my parents that I was going to run all day without stopping just to see how far I could run. I had been reading about running 'the gauntlet' which was a punishment of early western days by American Indians. There were stories of giving a white man the running start of an arrow in bare feet and being totally naked. The feat fascinated me. I just knew I could do it. I just knew I could run from sun up to sun down without stopping. On that day, I did just that. I knew then I had the heart of an Indian. I knew I had the will power to do anything I dreamed of. I knew I was a winner.

I excelled in all the sports. I am a wired, natural athlete and even now, at 64 I have moves that startle my younger employees. It tickles me that at times certain abilities still shine through.

Studies came hard for me. Genius types can read a page and get it all in one reading. I had to reread text several times in order to retain the material. I worked harder but it resulted in me being at the top of my class. I taught myself algebra and geometry because my Science Curriculum and amount of courses I was taking didn't allow the time. I went to high school with a load of work others tried to avoid. I was taking English, American History, Chemistry, Mathematics, Physics, Drama, Physical Education and in addition I was playing all the sports in season. Basketball, Football and Baseball. Yet, for some reason, I had missed the chance to learn algebra and geometry. I was the first student to use logarithms to do chemistry problems and today I couldn't tell you how I did it. Logarithms is something one has to use everyday, just like slide rules. My goal was to be a fighter pilot. I didn't know how I was going to make it to afford college, but I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

Upon graduation, the United States Air Force came out with an offer that stated anyone who could pass the entrance exams right out of high school which included both the written exam and physical exam could enter the United States Flight Training Program. I was the first High School Student in the United States to do just that. I entered the Pre Cadet Flight Program after the grueling tests which I took at Chanute Air Force Base. I was shipped to Reese Air Force Base in Enid Oklahoma. I plunged into the task before me. I would become a fighter pilot. Soon, I was transferred to the Cadet "Ninety Day Wonder School" in San Antonio, Texas (Lackland Air Force Base) and from there my life took off like a rocket with the guidance system broken.

The majority of my Cadet Class went into F-100's which was the first U.S.A.F. fighter that could go supersonic in level flight. It was a flying napalm bomb that required instant ejection should anything suddenly go wrong. Its tendency to explode or to break down quickly are well known. The aircraft did not stay long in our national inventories. I considered myself lucky to be assigned to an F-86 Squadron instead. Shown at left is me leading after take-off with wingman in tow. My combat flying career will remain private. (Thanks Charlie Gee for this photo!)

I met and married my wonderful wife Gladys Marie a few years after I left the military. I met her in the 3-D's nightclub in Toledo Ohio and on that first night, dancing with her I told her "Your the girl I'm going to marry." She laughed in mockery and of course it proved correct. She married me 30 days later. I had learned that a man that makes snap decisions and changes them slowly is more apt to be a success over those that makes slow decisions and changes them often. We have been married 42 years. I can add, 'I thought I loved her when we married,' but today I know how simple a thought that was. I love Gladys more more than my own life. She is my best friend. I have the same feelings for her that I had once before, once upon a time - so very long ago.

We speed forward to my efforts to attend college and finding a career in either Chemistry, Engineering, Lawyering and/or Aeronautical Engineering. Being married and accepting an instant family of two children already on the ramp, was to say the least, an enlightening experience. I was the best thing that happened to Gladys and her two children from a previous marriage and frankly, in the turmoil of it all, to me - the three of them were as pure as white driven snow. I was enthralled what was happening to me for one reason. Gladys' whole world suddenly revolved around just me, and me taking care of her and I was not about to let her down. I never have.

Going to Toledo University was difficult, not only financially in trying to support an instant family but paying for the tuition was doubling difficult. I was too proud to accept or apply for a scholarship. To me, it was nothing more than a hidden hook on ones life to be repaid later on, keeping one in debt for many years to come. So I avoided that pit-fall. I didn't want to be in debt after graduation to anyone. Grants were suspect to me. I was guarded and to this day, still am of anything that appears to 'be free.'

I discovered the Public Library. All the knowledge of mankind is inside the covers of books and it was free! I expounded to Gladys that we could get a free education with just the cost of a library card. She thought me crazy but I insisted. I had studied hard all my life and I explained that College is nothing more then what they do in every school in this nation. You attend class to get 10% of your assignments and you do 90% of your homework at home. It's still the same to this day. So I quit going to college and started invading the public library. I became a free paying professional student. I would be a self educated man. The same book that my constituents were paying $24.95 for I was getting free. Another factor dealt with study time. In college, it requires several weeks to go through a text book that would take me one week to read. I retained everything and of course I regarded myself as wise, as I have great self disciplines. I may not end up with a printed diploma on a wall but I would end up with more knowledge than I could ever get in just college. I've been doing this my entire life. I have never stopped being a student. I am what some call, a renaissance man. My only shortcoming is my spelling abilities. If it wasn't for spell checkers today, I would be a constant embarrassment to myself. I know people that admit to the same thing. I type so fast I make stupid errors. Its just crazy.

My Wife Gladys, Sir Humprey Bogart and Shadow.

So it as the years passed in Ohio I bought a forty acre spread in Swanton, Ohio. From there, we finally sold out and I loaded my family up which now included, Gladys, Rosemary, Bobby, Stuart, Ted and Georgia. With a trailer loaded with all our possessions and after selling my Well Drilling Operation, I pulled out onto America's Interstate Highways and headed west. I had no idea where we were going. I was literally, bald-faced into the wind and the wind was coming from the west. I had been a fighter pilot, now a civilian still searching for his niche in life overloaded with more responsibilities then what I had bargained for. But love, is a wonderful thing. It moves mountains.

Across the Mississippi and onto the mid-America great plains we went and soon enough, in our new adventure we entered Colorado after many split tire rims from overload and impossible odds. We were on 'an adventure!'

I pulled into Golden Colorado looking for a job. Imagine, going somewhere without the prospects of employment? But I found one almost instantly in Golden in a welding shop that made porch railing decorations. It was winter and the children were supposed to be in school. We didn't even have a home or the money left to rent one. So I stopped in K-Marts and bought a tent and set up house in Genese Park above Denver, high in the mountains. We pitched it in a foot of snow and being the idiots that we Gehrke's are, we were having a ball. We shivered at night and we cooked breakfast in the outdoors with steam coming from our breathes. I went to work and Gladys and the children kept camp and did the best they could. We were all determined we would not fail. We were all dedicated to turning adversity into success. "Dad, could do anything! He would find us a home!" I did. It was a little paper shack that had one large room downstairs that had a combination living room, kitchen & bath with two bedrooms upstairs. We had baby Georgia in one bedroom with us and our other three sons stayed in the other bedroom while our daughter Rosemary had the hallway all to herself. She was thrilled to have her own space. We were all simply thrilled not sleeping in three feet of snow in the Rocky Mountains.

Working for others for wages was not my idea on how to become rich or how to make money. So I thought about it for a long while as I went from job to job. I worked in the mines and I joined the Carpenter's Union in Denver. I landed a job constructing the Loveland Tunnel that was being punched through the entire continental divide. This was a project that was three times larger then building a pyramid. It is a story for another time. Sometimes I think I built that tunnel single-handedly. All the difficult jobs were given to me. I was known as the man that could do anything.

I then, in the course of another year was called to do structural welding for the United Bank Building which is on the corner of Colfax and Broadway in Denver. It took me an entire day to do the fillet welds on each of the huge steel beams. The entire building sets on my welds and then after that, I hung every piece of Pre stress concrete that ordains the outside of the entire structure. I'm proud of the work I did on that building and each time I look at it I can say, "I did that." Just me and one other guy.

Finally, I had enough of the carpentry work. I had sweat pouring down my nose as I was driving inter-fibrous-friction-fasteners into 4X4 stud walls. I stood up suddenly and asked myself out loud, "What the hell am I doing here?" I packed up my tools and resigned on the spot. The foreman was sorry to lose me but I said, "Its time I started doing something else with my life." So, I went home and once again told Gladys I quit. She just smiled and said, "I was wondering how long it would take this time." We sat down over a cup of coffee and I told her that I think there is a future in salesmanship. She agreed, that I was very good in this area once I found an idea or product. I went to Denver and joined up with a new concept called "The American Sportsman's Club." I was hired on the spot and was the main force in outlining all it's principles and concepts. It is a long story, but no one ever sold as many memberships as I did. I worked like a dog. I worked seven days a week, year end and year out. I made lots of money but the stress was brutal. So brutal that I finally had my first heart attack. I had to find something different to do.

Before this happened, I met a man by the name of Brad Fort. Brad is a Brown's University Graduate and he was a fly fisherman just like me, only better. I had fly fished on and off ever since I was a little boy, but Brad was to 'reintroduce' me to the finer arts of the sport.

Brad Fort was responsible for " The Makings of a Fly Fisherman". I am now the end result of that rebirth of interest.

I had to quit working for several years. My wife became city clerk of Central City and she was the personal secretary to Bill Russell. Bill is one of America's most colorful characters. I have never met a man I liked more then he. He and I were in trouble all the time. We would bury messages inside Sir Walter Riley Tobacco tins that said, "If you find this, I put it here." Only Bill Russell and I ever made it to the top of James Peak. A feat never duplicated by another living being. Bill Russell was the mayor of Central City for many years and still owns the local newspaper which everyone should call in and subscribe too. As a parting thought, Bill and his mother used to live in Brown's Palace Hotel, the finest in Denver. Soon to leave and eager to establish his revenge, Bill had - over a long period of time, dismantled a Model T Ford piece by piece and smuggled every part up the service elevator. He reconstructed the entire Automobile but got caught while dollying the engine onto the elevator. He simply told the night janitor that it was an engine for the new refrigeration unit planned for the roof of the hotel. The day came for departure and after his mother had checked out, he went to his private bedroom, started the car, locked all the doors and snapped off all the keys in the locks - then left. Can anyone imagine the dismay when the hotel was able to finally break into their own rooms with the help of the police and fire department only to find a complete automobile chugging away on the top floor of the finest hotel in Denver?! The prank made the newspapers and Bill Russell had established that he was indeed someone bent on making his own mark on this earth.

Up to this point in our married lives, Gladys and I had bought a home. It was the first mansion built in the State of Colorado. We bought it for $14,500 and the payments were to Advanced Mortgage Company who loved us as customers. Gladys was working for a Title Company in Denver and Bill Russell found out how I was laid up and could not work. He also knew that Gladys had to drive to Wadsworth Blvd. every day and that was an added expense. Bill Russell needed a City Clerk and Secretary as mayor. He was determined to get Gladys to work closer to home which would ease our expenses. This way, we could still make house payments and be able to feed the kids. Gladys was the best thing that ever happened to Central City as a City Clerk. Her efficiency and abilities to work hard brought organization, a filing system, and competence long over due. Bill Russell became a dear friend of the family.

So it was, I came under the care of Doc Peterson in Blackhawk Colorado. He has a daughter well known on television of the same name. Doc Peterson consulted me about how to handle stress and in a new kind of life style. I started to fly fish more often to catch fish for the table. I renewed my interest in Elk and Deer hunting in order to help feed the family. The children loved our adventures into the Great Outdoors and since their father was a Professional Sportsman as it was listed on our Income Tax Forms, they had the best of two worlds. They had parents that loved them and an environment that was pure adventure almost on a daily basis. The year was 1970 when one day, at the first lake on the right just above Blackhawk Colorado, my flies wouldn't float after soaking them in a fly dressing made by Garcia which came in an hour glass shaped bottle. Furious, and not being able to catch the three pound plus cruising fish, I decided to invent something that would do just that. I borrowed two hundred dollars from my uncle and went to work.

I went to Denver and bought beakers, retorts, a Bunsen burner, test tubes, you name it. I bought sample chemicals and I got myself a fresh library card. I converted the narrow, long room that went across the back of the Mansion into a Chemical Laboratory and went to work. I did not come out of it for three years. I worked seven days a week averaging 14 hour days, month after month, year after year. I was obsessed. I was determined to find a dry fly dressing that was better then anything else in the world.

I should mention that an old timer had died of a heart attack while fly fishing up Boulder Creek way along the railroad tracks that headed west to the Moffet Tunnel. Medical results said that his system was contaminated by carbontetracholoride causing premature heart failure. I had heard all my fly fishing life of fly fishermen dying from using dangerous home brews and I was determined to make a difference. I already had a good product to market but it was from another industrial source and it had certain short comings. I wanted a dry fly dressing invented by a fly fisherman FOR fly fishermen.

In 1973 I made my usual, almost daily test down to Clear Creek at the bottom of the hill and tossed in another Royal Coachman. Instead of being drowned and sucked under in the quick, foamy, white tongue water every fly has to negotiate, this one popped back up to the surface! My mouth dropped open and I started following the fly down stream. Time and again the water would try and drown the free floating fly and trout would take it and spit it out and it would again (on two different occasions) pop to the surface. I followed that fly for two miles! I returned home shouting to Gladys, "Eureka! I have found it!"

Gladys never did understand the importance at first, not fully - but she knew I wasn't wasting my time on something I didn't think was important. "What are you going to name it?" She asked. " I don't know," I answered, dumb founded by the obvious. I had never even thought of that until now.

So it was, I said there had to be a name in that 'Ancient Set of Dictionaries' we had, and starting with the 'A's' we sat there all day Saturday turning page after page, going through the alphabet until we got to the 'G's' The letter "G" has significance in our lives. Gladys Gehrke, George Gehrke, Gregory Gehrke, Georgia Gehrke, until finally "Gehrke's Gink" came into being.

I came to page 2,517 of THE CENTURY DICTIONARY AND CYCLOPEDIA Copyrighted 1897 version and the word "ginkin" caught my eye because of its definition. (jing'kin),n. A local Irish name of the parr or young salmon. Later, I found another definition that defines 'gink,' as a lost word no longer in use to mean, 'good fellow,' as in "He is a gink or good fellow." To be well liked. I combined the definitions to restore the word to mean "Good Fisherman" Gehrke's Gink means Good Fisherman or Good fellows Fishing.

So it was, I designed our first packaging and then leased my name and product for exclusive distributorship to the Fly Fisherman's Bookcase. The arrangement went well for a few years until the company was dissolved as insolvent. In such an event, my property was to be returned to me (which it wasn't) and after going to Federal Court and being rewarded all our rights, "Gehrke's Gink," was to have a new and fresh beginning, including a new packaging concept and image. Gehrke's Gink was born as a new adventure in the world of American Fly Fishing. I then invented, in 1976 a new product which was to obtain a new, original word invented from scratch. That word was Gehrke's XINK. Now armed with a one/two punch - our little company started to fill orders and started to grow. The entire concept was to teach Gladys and I 'Capitalism' with a capital "C"! We were to learn after many trials and errors what worked and what didn't. We were learning what it takes to be a small business that would succeed. We were excited and we were happy. I decided to attack marketing with a new concept. I turned to my silent hero, George Herter, who relates to us;

"Someone in this world has to be #1..."

I figured we control our own futures - we only have to believe that we can do anything.

So it was that I took upon myself to test GEHRKE'S GINK against every dry fly dressing offered in the world. It took me three months to get a sample of every product known. The test went as follows. We bought a large 18 inch tall by 4 inch diameter beaker, filling it with Clear Creek water. On top of this column of water we set Royal Wulff Dry Flies, size 16 with different colored center bars to identify each fly. The one dressed with Gehrke's Gink was the red banded Royal Wulff and it was tied with only one brown hackle whereas all the rest had two. Several weeks went by as the water slowly evaporated until the last fly finally settled upon all the rest that had, by this time sunk to the bottom. That fly had a red band. The last Royal Wulff was the king of the mountain. The best in all the world set on top. I went forward into the world of fly fishing and claimed a brash remark. I claimed that Gehrke's Gink was the best dry fly dressing in the world along with a new and exciting guarantee, which stands to this day on every product we make.

("IF" for any reason you don't agree Gehrke's Gink is the best dry fly dressing you've ever used, return the empty bottle for a full refund, and man to man, we defy you to be able to do it.")

From 1973 to 1999, twenty six years later, we have yet to have one fly fisherman in this world ask for a refund. In the course of twenty six years, George & Gladys and 'the gang' have sold over 8 million bottles of GINK. More world records have been caught including life time trophies with Gehrke's Gink then any other products in the world combined. The World of Fly Fishing have never let us down and we, in sincere gratitude can say we have never let one fly fisherman down either.

Our motto: "Gink Keeps It Up"-is born from a lifetime of proofs and millions of happy fly fishermen.

We finally sold our home in Blackhawk, Colorado, and moved to Salida, Colorado, to a lower altitude where there was more air to breath and to set up shop for our new business. I remember the little hand pumps filling each bottle carefully by hand. We had no automation. We actually had a kitchen table operation for our secret formulas. I was driving all over the western states trying to get orders and better distribution. We made a lot of mistakes but more good then bad. Ed Rice was just starting his Fly Fishing Sports Shows and I was one of the first to sign up. Ed was to learn that he had a character on his hands and that the public was curious about who the "Gink Man" was. Anyone who could name a product, !GINK! (just the name was crazy enough) to spark interest, had to be seen to be believed. I started to meet my public and not a more wonderful thing could have happened to Gladys and I. We were determined to return to fly fishing as much as we were getting out of it. "Imagine," I'd say in passing. "We're getting paid to have fun! We're making a living in the world of fly fishing and we are working for ourselves in the bargain. Only in America!" and customers would sit back and roar in laughter at my crazy enthusiasm about life and how much fun it was being in an Ed Rice Show. Yes indeed. Those are days to remember!

So it was, my inventive nature and my chemical engineering background and many other talents continue to serve us. On several occasions customers would say the same thing, never knowing each other. "George, whenever you invent another product, don't ever put your name on it until you're sure it's the worlds best. Sure, it galls some people that you do that, but we all know you are honest to a fault. You believe in everything you do and every thing that you do is original. Just make sure you keep trying to be 'the world's best." To this day I believe the press.

Gladys then set me down and said this as an observer in my booth operations and how I did things. "Honey, you do things at shows that people will never forget. You're a breath of fresh air. Just keep inventing like they say and lets not put our name on anything unless we know it is the world's best. Right now we don't have many products, but "for what we do," we're making the best. Never compromise that, okay?"

To this day, I have kept that promise.

So after two years and all the traveling (which was hard on me) I decided it was time for me to get an airplane. Gladys and Georgia and I went to the Salida Airport one day looking for anything that was for sale. I was looking at some high winged Cessna's but they found this low winged airplane which made Georgia squeal in glee, "DADDY! Come here and look at this cute little airplane! It has a low wing on it!" I glanced over to the blue and white PA24-250 Piper Comanche never figuring I could afford such an airplane and noted the price and phone number. I called the owner up and explained to him how much more money he would make if he carried his own paper or financing with us making a balloon payment at the end of the agreement. He liked my idea and I had an airplane. I couldn't believe it. It was as easy as buying a pick up truck. The entire United States was at my beck and call. In a matter of three hours I was checked out in the craft and all my licenses and physical were updated. I had graduated from being a fighter pilot to a private business executive with his own corporate aircraft. Verbal images and terms in describing what we did and how we do it suddenly took on new meanings. I was beginning to sound like an executive. Heaven forbid!

In Salida, we are surrounded by the tallest mountains in the country. The forteeners were all nearby and those are known as mountains that exceeded 14,000 feet in height. The Salida Range ate airplanes. In Colorado the average number of aircraft lost exceeds 2.5 aircraft per month. I was asked to join the Civil Air Patrol (CAP) when one day I found a downed aircraft on my own. I had decided after a day of failure by the searchers, I might be able to dig in those mountains better and I had my own ideas from the reports given. I was right. The plane did not go down where everyone had thought. This was to be the first of many I found over the years resulting in a Pilot of the Year Award which hangs on my office wall to this day.

Soon after, in 1985 we moved to Hamilton, Montana. In heart, mind, body and soul I'm a Montana man and I will always be one. I will own a place in Montana again for the summers but Hamilton was a paradise. The Bitterroot Valley is overshadowed by the Bitterroot Mountains and nothing rolls off the tongue better then the 'bitterroot range'. Trout abounded in respectable numbers already in a drainage system over appropriated for irrigation. The ranchers in the Bitterroot Valley are prime examples of ranching at it's worse. Timbering techniques probably is the only other scheme that is more criminal in nature - but let me not get started on that here, now. I fell in love with the Bitterroot Valley and I met a new friend. I liked him the instant I met him in the Ravalli County Bank where he works to this very day. I met Dave Hardy. I went to the bank to deposit $7,000 and I wanted to make a decent impression and money does that better then anything at a bank. Within a year, my balloon payment was coming due and a demand letter for payment or return the aircraft immediately came by registered mail. I had made all the payments on time, but now the moment of truth was here. So it was, I went to David Hardy with the demand letter in hand.

I suppose, as he read the demand, it was the wording of the previous owner that probably got his goat more then anything. He looked up at us with a frown on his face and pronounce, "It will be a cold day in hell before I let this bastard screw anyone like this. If you're willing to put your plane up for collateral along with a few other things, why don't we just pay this puppy off tomorrow?" Which we did. I couldn't be happier and I own Miss Blue to this very day still free and clear of debts. We should have more Dave Hardy's in our lives. All of us.

After a few years it was time to move on as the Bitterroot Valley's air became more polluted and difficult for Gladys to breath. Since the county was not willing to outlaw wood burning stoves that choked the innocent, I was forced to move out due to her health. So we did just that. In three days I moved all my equipment and my bird dogs into our camper and off across Lolo Pass I went. I returned to pick up our airplane and flew it to Lewiston Idaho where I parked it. I met a man by the name of Glen Lazelle who operated a quick stop store. Settled and interested in others he questioned who I was and was startled that I was looking for a new place to move my company. Glen offered me his equipment and place of business to call out of to find just a place. Go back, get the rest of your stuff and we will find you a place to live. I did just that.

So it was, within a few more day, I had three huge 22' U-haul vans loaded to the gills along with three other vehicles and trailers filled beyond capacity. We arrived in Lewiston and rented a storage facility and unloaded everything. The owner was stunned at the number of rooms we took and filled. He was convinced that I was a man that had everything. My monthly rental bills proved it.

Gladys and I were loaned one of Glens rigs and we hooked up with a real-estate broker who showed us the five acre piece of land we presently own. It was a bare five acres and I bought it instantly with a balloon payment due in three years. I had no building but we had a well that worked. I bought a tent for Gladys and I and our two Llewellyn Setters, Skeet and Sir Humphrey Bogart. I contacted a local contractor and asked him to build me a building 16 X 20 feet if I promised to pay for it in 30, 60 and/or 90 days. He agreed. I asked why he agreed to do it. He said, "Because of the way you asked." His name is Omar Church. He is the man who gave us a helping hand when things looked darkest. We had orders but no place of business to unpack and fill them out of. In three years we paid for the land but I should mention that we paid for our first building in 35 days. Cost? $7,000 dollars.

Today, George and Gladys Gehrke and crew, reside on the Snake River in Hell's Canyon. Summer temperatures commonly are in excess of 95 dry heat degrees. Winters are mild, the river valley floor soil is sweet to the color of dark black purple on the pH scale of things and if you're not careful, standing in one spot longer then fifteen minutes may find your toes slowly curling down as if your body was trying to take root. With a growing season that exceeds 9 months, Hell's Canyon is one of the best kept secrets in the west. Steelhead abound and every one of them pass Gehrke's Gink's front door every year.

The Snake and Clearwater River demands a different kind of boat and that type is a "Jet Boat." Lewiston and Clarkston are the Jet Boat Capital Centers of the United States. But the more I looked at the designs offered the more I became convinced it was time for a change. The designs, for more than 35 years had not changed. It was a classic case of the blind leading the blind. Alas! George Gehrke now lived here and he was about to make something new and exciting happen. I started to conceive a new hull design. My years of study in aeronautical engineering and physics in general came to my aid. I bought all the raw aluminum and set to work. I bought welders, clamps, all the tools needed. Band saws, table saws, and such were added to the shop inventory. Carbide blades cut through aluminum like butter. Once I laid the hull, it would take a year out of my life to finish the creature of beauty I started. Once I commit myself to a project, time stands still for me. I am impossible in all other matters. I will work until I drop. The boat slowly came to life. I took it to Miami Florida and won best of show. I named the Fly Fishing Flats and River Running Jet Boat, "Gehrke's Professional Guide Jet Boat" Once again I became ill from overwork and the project went on the back burner, but I am not ready to take orders.

Basically there is no sizzling ending to this auto-biography and of the man still on a long journey. I think most about who I went to school with. It seems most of them forgot that it was I who designed the Anthony Wayne School Ring, the Anthony Wayne Album Cover and Bust of General Anthony Wayne that marks the Anthony Wayne Trail Highway signs to this very day. I may not look like the graduating gentleman at the start of this biography, but I am still the same fellow who once upon a time began a life on a road filled with many barriers. I am set for life if I were to sell my company. Of greater value are the people who love me in their own different ways, including those from my past. There is Ron Kinkaid and Mel Strayer whom I always stop to see when I vist my old haunts where I grew up. We are so rich when any of us have fond memories of fine people from the past. These ties bind us to our own developing heritage. I have been walking along a broad, sweeping beach upon which are washed bits and pieces of my life.

I have not had a boring life.

George Gehrke / American Sportsman