Edward Milton Ries, 1919-2011

California has lost its foremost historian and archivist of sportfishing. Former OWAC member Ed Ries slipped his earthly bounds late last year at the age of 92, a span very nearly measuring his obsession with the sea.

Although he came to OWAC late in his multi-career life, Ed’s monthly Pacific Coast Sportfishing column Looking Astern ran for an incredible 30 years, starting with the first issue of the then South Coast Sportfishing way back in 1981. Each one was a journey back in time, a new chapter in the rich and unique history of west coast ocean fishing, lovingly illustrated with period photos and illustrations. 

Ed was a multi-faceted man of immense dignity, keen intelligence, and undying curiosity. He was uniquely suited for the job of fishing historian—he lived it. He discovered fishing in 1930, and was hooked from the start. Within days the youngster wore out his father’s delicate trout rod pulling on the piling perch and jacksmelt he plucked from Santa Monica Bay blocks from his boyhood home. That was the start of an 81-year tackle and techniques odyssey that took him from sidewinders and cane poles to high-tech composite rods and whiz-bang low-profile reels spooled with spectra. 

From pier rat he graduated to bait hauler at the age of 15, anything to gain the deck of one of the Morris sportfishing boats that tied up at the Santa Monica Pier. He’d also paddle a 14-foot skiff through the surf to expand his range. The kid commercial sold his catch for nickels and dimes a pound, good money in the midst of the Depression.

As a young man, his heroes were Zane Grey and C.F. Holder. He called the latter the founding father and learned guru of ocean sportfishing. It bothered Ed that the west coast was ignored by the Eastern-based outdoor magazines of the day. No doubt it fired his passion to share his knowledge with his readers, who he esteemed. Little made him happier than a note or new tidbit of history from one of his many fans. 

Fishing was a constant of Ed’s long life. He jack-poled tuna, ran set-lines from his own small commercial boats Patsy and Sea Foam, and skippered private yachts and party boats including San Diego’s Dolphin. He stayed active on the recreational side too, winning a house trailer for a second place finish at the 1955 Yellowtail Derby, California’s largest saltwater competition at the time. The vibrant stories he witnessed firsthand and arduously dug out of ancient newspaper and magazine archives are retold in three books published by Monterey Publications: Fishing Barges of California 1921-1998; OWAC first place book winner Tales of the Golden Years of California Ocean Fishing; and the recent Looking Astern, More Historic Tales of California Ocean Fishing. They remain a rare glimpse at a nearly forgotten history that any angler will enjoy. 

But this just scratches the surface. As a young man, Ed sensed the coming storm of war, enlisting in the US Navy in the months leading up to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. A born sailor, Ed quickly worked his way to helmsman and bosun’s mate. He endured the German submarine menace while serving aboard the Navy oilerHousatonic, participated in the invasion of North Africa with the carrier Chenango, and eventually found himself in the South Pacific. Predictably, Ed found ways to sample the exotic tropical fishing in his precious moments of downtime. After a short while on the beach following World War II, Ed was called back into action for Korea, and later became one of the Navy’s nuclear sailors and first Master Chiefs.    

Navy retirement in 1966 opened a new chapter in Ed’s life. A graduate of the renowned Chouinard Art Institute, soon his creative talent and love of the ocean played out on canvas. He painted majestic windjammers, proud Navy men ‘o war, and, most uniquely, the workaday world of the old-time commercial fisherman. Ed felt an enduring respect for the hard work and freedom that come with life lived on the sea. 

Ed fished right to the end. When his legs no longer had the strength to spend hours at the rail offshore, he found safe harbor with the spotted bass of San Diego Bay. “Little red-eyed devils, I love ‘em,” he’d say of the thousands of “delight-makers” he caught and released over the past decade. Despite that record, the old salt never stopped trying new fish tricks.

“I feel lucky. I lived during the perfect time and enjoyed many fishing adventures when huge catches were routine. I witnessed historical events that will never happen again,” Ed often said in his final days. He is survived by Betty, his beloved wife of more than fifty years, and his adult children Laurel Ries Natan and Ed Ries III.  

submitted by Paul Lebowitz