The Mad Fisherman: Kick Some Bass with America's Wildest TV Host

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9780312374723: The Mad Fisherman: Kick Some Bass with America's Wildest TV Host
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Charlie Moore was married with two kids (and one on the way) when his Massachusetts bait-and-tackle shop sank without a trace. A skilled fisherman and a savvy entrepreneur trained in his father’s cigar shop, Charlie decided to support his family by starring on his own TV fishing show.

After all, the ones playing on the TV in Charlie’s shop all day had one thing in common: they were dull. As a rule, people called Charlie many things, but never, ever dull. In fact, when he told friends about his television idea, they called him crazy.

Today, everyone calls him the Mad Fisherman.

The Mad Fisherman  is the incredible story of how Charlie cold-called his way into doing short spots for no money for a regional outdoors show while working odd jobs to pay for diapers. When the TV station refused to pay up once the show was a hit, he hooked show sponsors himself, turning Charlie Moore Outdoors into a profitable enterprise.

Charlie’s success opened doors at ESPN and gave birth to the groundbreaking Beat Charlie Moore, an entirely new kind of outdoors show on which Charlie goes mano y mano with pro fishermen and celebrities alike. Charlie's very competitive, but he still pays more attention to amusing his audience than beating his competitors. But he usually does both, anyway.

Guest fishermen on Charlie’s boat have included NFL quarterback Drew Bledsoe, Massachusetts governor and presidential hopeful Mitt Romney (who waterskiied off the back of Charlie’s boat), Rickey Medlocke of Lynyrd Skynyrd, UConn basketball coach Jim Calhoun, Ted Nugent, Adam West (TV’s Batman), and Darryl McDaniels of Run-DMC. No matter how famous they are on dry land, they turn into ordinary guys when Charlie hands them a fishing pole. Well, except Ted Nugent.

With unflagging energy, a wild sense of humor, and a sheer love of the outdoors, Charlie Moore entertains and amuses a million and a half people every week.

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About the Author:

Charlie Moore hosts Charlie Moore Outdoors and Beat Charlie Moore, two top-rated outdoor shows on ESPN2 and NESN (New England Sports Network). Between the two shows, Charlie reaches almost one and a half million households per week and has won two New England Emmy Awards for Best Sports Series.

Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

The Mad Fisherman
1I'm Gonna Get My Own TV Show ... . No. Really. I Am.Here I am in Beverly, Massachusetts, twenty-four years old, two kids, another one on the way, and it's time to cut bait. Time to walk away from a spectacularly unsuccessful attempt at opening my own tackle store. I am, by any measure, an absolute failure. A flop. A bust. On the bright side, I've got nowhere to go but up. At least that's what I tell myself. Because if I don't go up, my friends, I'll go belly up.But who am I, exactly, and why did I ever think I could possibly make a living selling lures and bait? To really understand me and my success, you've got to accept that some things can't be taught at any university. My theory? You're just born and bred knowing them. At least that's how it was for me.Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself ...First off, my name's Charlie Moore. But you already know that because it's in big letters on the cover of this book, along with my picture. And if you didn't know who I was before youbought this book, you will now. Trust me.My mom and dad were Southerners. My dad is from Virginia and my mom is from Washington, D.C., where they met. My dad worked in the banking industry in the Treasury building where my mom was a secretary.My mother's family is from Albania. They are Greek, so we grew up in the Greek Orthodox church. My father's father, who was born and raised in Virginia, was a very tough guy who didn't show his emotions. My dad used to tell me how much my grandfather loved freshwater fishing. He regaled me with stories about my grandfather fishing off a bridge on the Chesapeake. And my grandfather on my mother's side, Papoo, used to tell stories about how he dove for sponges and speared fish for his family. So, it doesn't take a genius to figure out why I've always loved the water and the outdoors.By the time I showed up on the scene, my family had moved to Lynnfield, Massachusetts. I was the fourth child, and fourth boy (my parents would try it one more time and finally get it right: a girl.) There's Danny, David, Christopher, me, and Juliana. My father was a successful businessman who owned a smoke shop and convenience store. We lived pretty well: a beautiful house, a couple of cars, the whole nine yards.My father was always intrigued by the Civil War, so much so that growing up I didn't know if my father was Dan Moore or Robert E. Lee. During show-and-tell at school I'd be afraid that the door would smash open and Dad would ride in on a horse, dressed as a confederate general. And I'd be scarred for life. That's the reason I never asked him to come in for show-and-tell. If you think I'm kidding, think again.Take the vacations we took when I was a kid. We'd jump in the Griswold family station wagon and, without exception, we'd end up at yet another Civil War battlefield. "For the love of God, Dad, can't we go somewhere else for a change? Like Disney World?"The first time I saw my dad out on one of those battlefields I got out of the station wagon and asked, "Gee, Dad, when does the war start?""Oh, no, son, the war was over more than a hundred years ago.""I don't see any troops coming over the ridge. Should I fire the cannons?""I said it already happened, a long time ago.""Maybe if you'd stopped and asked for directions like Mom said, we'd have gotten here in time."So those were our family vacations. Going to Pennsylvania. Going to Virginia. Going to the battlefield. Any battlefield.My dad was like a Southern field general and to understand me and my success, you've got to understand the mind-set of the field general. He doesn't lose. He does everything, at any and every cost, to win. That's how I grew up. When you played football, you played to win, whether it was a pickup game, Pop Warner, or high school.My father didn't talk much. Didn't have to. His eyes said it all. You'd look over at him and he'd peer right through you as if you weren't there, as if he was only thinking about the upcoming battle and what part you'd play in it. He was a powerful man who could manipulate anybody into doing whatever he wanted you to do. As with any general, if you weren't going to help win the war, you weren't going to be part of the battle. You didn't get anywhere near the front. You were sent back home. No Purple Heart. No nothing. Either you fought his way or you didn't fight at all. That's the way I grew up. Everything was done by my dad's rules. And if you didn't do it his way, he wouldn't even talk to you.My dad would not accept failure and, in fact, he wouldn't even discuss it. He didn't scream and smack you around. He didn't have to. You just knew what was expected of you. And you did it.You went to a football game, you played football. And that's where you were supposed to leave the game, on the field. A lot of my success can be traced directly to my dad's personality. One of the reasons my father and I have argued so much over the years is because we're very similar.In contrast to my father, my mom is bubbly, friendly, outgoing, and very talkative. I share several traits with my mom, one of which is, we both lie about our age. She's always telling the story about how when she went to the doctor he said, "I cannot believe your age." Only trouble is, she's been telling that same story for ten years now. I've lied so much about my age, sometimes I don't even know how old I really am.The bottom line is, I do business like my dad, while in personality, I'm more like my mom.As if we in the Moore family needed any more proof, my dad solidified his position as Field General Moore one Christmas Eve not long ago when his current wife, Mrs. Miller--I call her Minnie--officially certified his position. I walked into the living room of their house and came face-to-face with a painting of my dad dressed as General Lee, sitting on a horse. I shook my head, turned to Angela, and said, "That just about sums up my childhood."Thankfully, he didn't have that painting done until we grew up; otherwise, you can be damn sure we would have lugged that sucker into school for show-and-tell. 
 
Overall, I had a pretty normal childhood, considering who my father was. I liked sports. I loved football.My older brother Chris was a terrific football player and went on to play in college. He was also captain of the football team. I would have followed in his footsteps, but it didn't work out. I was always in Chris's shadow, working tirelessly just to catch up. But he would always be five years older, so I would always be the tortoise to his hare. That just drove me harder, though.In many ways, we were polar opposites. Chris is quiet, laid-back. I'm in your face. I'm the one talking smack in between plays. Truth is, if we could have taken the best parts of him and the best parts of me, we would have made a Super Moore, the greatest football player ever. At least that's my version of the story.So instead, of becoming an All-American quarterback at Boston College, I wound up working with my father in his store, selling cigars and lottery tickets. I'd worked in that store ever since I was a little kid. I'd even set up my own store-within-the-store where I would sell bubble gum and baseball cards, until I graduated to cigars and lottery--I was always a salesman at heart.By the time I turned eighteen, I was already a successful entrepreneur, the personification of the American Dream. I drove a nice car, ate at nice restaurants, wore nice clothes. My goals were loftier than anyone I knew. I was driven to succeed, just like my father. I've always believed that people are born that way. I don't think you have to go to college to learn how to be an entrepreneur.Don't get me wrong, there are obviously lots of things you can learn in college. There are certainly things you can learn about being a success in business. But that drive, that ambition, doesn't come from learning about profit-and-loss statements and returns on investment. Self-made people just have that fire inside them, and I always knew I was going to develop into something special. If I worked hard enough at it.The Day My Life Changed ForeverIt was June 27, 1988, the year I turned eighteen. I'd decided to take a day off to relax and chill out, fishing in the ocean with my friends. But at the last minute, and I thank dumb luck for this, I changed my mind and decided that, instead of going with them, I'd rent a favorite--The Godfather. So, I headed out to the video store. On the way, I passed a CVS and figured I'd stop in for some Twizzlers to eat while I watched the movie.I went in and, whoa, there she was behind the counter. The minute I saw her, I forgot all about Twizzlers. All I cared about was this gorgeous girl working the cash register behind the counter. I would have bought something, but in that case I'd have no excuse to hang around. And, believe me, I wanted to hang around that store as long as I possibly could. So, I just stood there, staring at the candy display, sneaking glances at this beautiful girl, looking like a complete idiot.Finally, she looked at me and said, "It's a tough decision, isn't it?""Yeah," I said, mustering my confidence. "But what I really want is behind the counter. What time do you get off?""Around six," she said.So I came back later, and took Angela Latini down to the beach. We just talked and got to know each other. It didn't take long before I knew she was something special.Angela and I never partied. Instead, I took her to nice restaurants, or we just hung out. We became good friends, and that wasvery cool. I remember driving up to New Hampshire, where we live now, and we'd cruise through all the nice neighborhoods and look at all the expensive houses that lined the street.I'd say, "I want that one."And Angela would say, "I want that one."And then we'd talk about what our house would be like.But our courtship wasn't all wine and roses. I have a great relationship with my in-laws now, but in the beginning my mother-in-law and I would go at it. It was pretty bad there for a while.At one point, I wasn't even allowed in the house.I don't think Angela's mom, Bonnie, had anything against me personally; she was just frightened about losing her daughter and didn't want to let her go. The funny thing was, we weren't even out drinking or partying. I never did drugs, either. Maybe her mother was scared by how driven I was. Even at that age. Hell, at eighteen I was driving around in a brand-new Corvette--besides working for my father, I had a second job selling Corvettes. Her daughter was coming home with Gucci bags, we were going to fancy restaurants for dinner. It must have looked like all I cared about was making a lot of money.That's the funny part, looking back on it. Usually, guys get in trouble with a girl's parents because they do drugs, or because they take their daughter to wild parties. Not me. I just wanted to be president of the United States.It all came to a head the day Angela graduated from North Shore Community College, in the spring of 1991. Not only wasn't I allowed in the house, I was forbidden to attend the graduation ceremony.But we were in love with each other, so that wasn't going to stop me. I would be at graduation whether her parents wanted me there or not. Of course, I couldn't sit with the family, so I found a place up in the rafters and sat there, all by myself, watching Angela get her degree. It was hard, but what the hell was I going todo? I wasn't going to miss Angela graduating, that's for sure. I remember watching her family all around her, supporting her, and here I was up in the rafters. It was tough on me. Very tough.Here's how Angela saw the situation (yes, I do, on occasion, let someone else do the talking. Not often, but sometimes. Usually, so I can light up a cigar):In the beginning, my mother didn't like Charlie at all. But that all changed at my college graduation. Charlie was there, but he wasn't sitting with the family because of their little tiff. He was up in the rafters by himself. At that point, my mom said, "For him to come and be here for you means something to me."My mom figured, if Charlie cared enough about me to sneak into my graduation ceremony like that, he couldn't be all that bad. She respected him for that.When Angela's mother looked up and saw me sitting there, just chilling in the rafters, I could see from her expression that she regretted her attitude toward me. After the ceremony ended, I went home to my apartment on the beach at Beverly Farms. Yeah, I was only twenty years old but, man, I was living like a king. As soon as I walked in the door, the phone rang. It was Angela."Charlie," she said, "my mom feels terrible. She wants you to come over and celebrate with us.""Are you kidding?" I replied. "There's no way in hell I'm coming over! Did you see me sitting up there in the rafters? I can't believe she would treat me like that. After all I've been through ... should I bring some dip?"We had a great time. You'd think it would be uncomfortable for me, but it wasn't. In case you haven't figured it out by now, I'm a people person. So I was there doing my thing and trying to forget about what happened. Hey, I'm Greek! Okay? Blame Zeus. He could never let anything go.When the party was over, I took Angela down to the beach and, when we got there, I asked her to marry me. Yup. That'sright. That night. That's when I asked her. She said yes. When we got back home and told her mother, she replied, "I invited him over for cocktails, not to propose."That was the spring of 1991. We planned to get married in September, which gave me six months to scrounge together enough money for the wedding.The ceremony would take place at the Marriott, in Danvers. The hotel had three banquet rooms, with two other weddings in the other two rooms. I brought my mother-in-law down there with Angela so we could go over the details. When we got there, we found out that one of the other wedding parties wanted the room I had chosen, because they had too many guests for the one they were in.I saw this as the perfect opportunity to get something for nothing. I turned to Angela and my mother-in-law."We're in a prize fight," I said. "It's the tenth round. I got him up against the ropes. Pretend we're having a big fight. Throw up your arms and start yelling at me. You can even swear if you want to. Just make it look like you hate my guts."We put on quite a show, and then I went over to the manager."Jeez, this is horrible," I said. "We really had our eyes set on that middle hall. I'm afraid this might be a deal killer. I'm doing my best over there, but to tell you the truth, bro, they didn't like this place much to begin with. And they're going to really hate you for this. But I'll go over there and see what I can do."After "arguing" with Angela and her mother some more, I went back to the manager and said, "Listen, I tried my best, but as you can see they're not very happy. The only thing I can think of, I guess, would be to have the wedding at the golf club at no additional charge ..."And that's exactly what they did.My mother-in-law was upset because the staff became so scared of her--which had been exactly what I'd wanted. But, unders...

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