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Schuldt's jig rigging spans half a century

Bill Schuldt was initially skeptical of the jig's ability to lure a fish. "I didn't believe in 'em," the 85-year-old said of his take on the artificial bait a half century ago. But he came to the realization it was his technique, not the apparatu...

Bill Schuldt was initially skeptical of the jig's ability to lure a fish.

"I didn't believe in 'em," the 85-year-old said of his take on the artificial bait a half century ago.

But he came to the realization it was his technique, not the apparatus that was at fault.

He headed back out on the lake and returned with his limit of walleye and northern.

"You have to be trigger happy," he said of jig use. "I realized I wasn't doing the job."

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From then on, he was hooked.

"You have to outwit the creature you're trying to possess," he observed.

Schuldt and wife Loretta moved to the north country from Iowa in 1959, purchasing Camp Liberty on 8th Crow Wing Lake.

But at the time, jigs were difficult to find in this part of the country. A friend had begun building them and offered tutelage.

Schuldt dissected the lures to determine the procedure of its creation. His thick, muscular hands defy the intricate work involved. He experimented with colors and types not found on the market, heading out on the lake to determine the fish's take on his work.

Most people use bait with a jig," he said. "I rarely do that."

As a resort owner, he'd served as a guide for his guests. Anyone staying a week or longer received a free day of guide service - and a few jigs.

His favorite fish: "anything that's biting - in any water with fish in it."

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"We moved from lake to lake," he said, "based on where the fish were biting, And we'd stay until the fish were caught."

Sons Bill and Marty filleted 30,000 to 35,000 fish a season, always boneless.

A half-century ago, women were hesitant to fish, Schuldt said, feeling "incapable." But females' keen sense of touch gives them an edge on their male counterparts.

"Enjoy yourself," he'd counseled. "An evening of crappie fishing and they were hooked. Ninety percent of the women I teach out-fish men," he said. "They know when the fish bites."

His tutelage had been to employ a bit of intuition: "Set the hook a half-second before you feel the fish."

Wife Loretta proved a classic example. She'd never fished before they were married.

"I'd make new jigs and they'd strangely disappear," he said. "I'd find them in the fish's mouth she'd just caught...

"She turned out to be an excellent fisherman."

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Schuldt marketed the jigs at the resort, which they sold in 1975, and through Reed's in Walker.

"Every chance we get, we go fishing," he said. But the pair, who resides at Care-Age, no longer drives. Excursions on the water are a rarity.

Fishing has become a vicarious adventure.

"Now it's a hobby," he said of his piscatorial decoys. Friends and family coming to call leave with jigs in hand. Two thousand colorful lures are created annually.

Schuldt often revisits a style that's been discontinued by a manufacturer.

"Sometimes they don't realize when they've got a good thing," the seasoned outdoorsmen said.

jeanr@parkrapidsenterprise.com

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