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| alright, fess up guys! Who uses this bait?? What is so special about it, as everybody keeps claiming this bait sucks, that it doesn't produce fish.
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| I got one + will always keep it...never had a rise on it but the daggone thing looks so neat slowly retrieved on the surface!!! It should catch fish + sometimes I put it on just to watch it work when things are slow, which is a continuing thing for me. Everybody should have at least ONE![:sun:] |
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| I had never had any action on the one I had. Also it broke in half when I casted it. |
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| Honey,Is that a shark? No dear that's a Burmek B1. |
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| Yep, I'm guilty!
I catch fish on them every year. The key is working them very slowly, so that there tail fin is barely breaking the surface. |
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| do you use it for casting only? Here they advertise it as being a top class trollingbait! How deep does it run? |
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| I control the depth on mine by drilling large holes in it. I just don't believe there are any advantages in using this lure.In todays market there are so many well designsd lures,I opt to put mine in the collectors box.Take the hooks off,throw it in the crib,the kids just love em |
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| Put some better hooks on it, throw it in the propwash 50 ft back at 5mph+, the muskies just LOVE em!
I am a little worried about their strength and durability as there are the reports of them breaking, but there is no better high speed crankbait, trolled or cast. The thing is all over the place, which is what the fish want guys... hint hint! Caught many good fish on it. |
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| Divani,
I only cast them, but that has more to do with the regulations here in Wisconsin then anything else. I think that the burmeks would run around 8-10 feet down if trolled.. but I am not basing this on experience. |
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| Maybe more need to work it on top like Believer topwater style. I have used it this way and it does look awesome. Has a bit different action on the top than a beliver also. I think most people gave the bait one chance and then just put it away or sold it. |
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| The Burmek B1 packaging graphics shows a photo of Tony Burmek holding a 38-pound muskie caught off Poplar Island on the Chip Flowage. Tony is in profile because he is looking directly at my dad, Sam Welch, who caught the fish. At their feet is a Martin 100 (my father was then ad manager for Martin Motors, a division of National Presto Ind.). The fish surfaced about 20 feet off the bow and Burmek took a .38 revolver out of his tacklebox, stepped up on the front seat to get some elevation, and shot the muskie dead thru the head with his first shot. My old man was mad as hell (the fish was a long way from beat) but kept his temper. The fish was later fed to a bunch of outdoor magazine writers (True,Field/Stream, etc) at a new-product introduction and formal dinner at the Hotel Eau Claire--silver platter, Door County apple in the open mouth, the works. Ramsell's Compendium of Musky Fishing carried the same photo and attributes it to Burmek's "Twelve Days" muskie-catching rampage of October, 1955, when in fact the fish was caught in 1952.
The old man had practically forgotten the fish-shooting incident when he walked into Long's Sport Shop in E.C. a few years later and there hanging on a rack was Tony's new muskey lure line -- with the photo but minus the fish's owner! That got him boiling all over again (as he put it, a phone call from Burmek asking permission would have been more than satisfactory). Tony had tons of photos he could have used, but virtually all of them were taken with box cameras while this one was shot behind the office of the Sawyer County newspaper in Hayward by a staff photog using a 4x5 Speed Graphic --which service dad paid for.
I have an 11x14 print of the razor-sharp photo framed and hanging at home. Next to it is displayed a Burmek B1, still in its box with the graphic background. Please pardon me if I take a bit of satisfaction in knowing that of all the big muskies that Burmek caught--he arguably boated more 40-45 pounders than any area guide of his era, including Louis Spray --
in the end he used my dad's fish to promote his product line.
As Paul Harvey would say....
Tony Welch
Portland, Or. |
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| Daggone COOL story dude!!! Funny how stuff happens + then you find out "the rest" almost 50 yrs. later![:sun:] |
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| What an awesome story dude. That kind of stuff is the essence of what makes our sport's history very interesting and almost mythic.
Musky fishing is constantly filled scandals and behind the scenes motives. Politics has always been a big part of musky fishing history....and most of the politics involve people lying or screwing people over. It's true.
There are two reasons that I believe are the root causes of this negative mood that always seems to permeate musky lore and even current musky drama. #1 is that musky fishing is the king of all fresh water fish and to be the best musky fisherman or to catch the biggest fish ever, puts your manhood at the top of the hill. #2 is that people who seem to migrate to musky fishing have really big ego's and like to fluff them and are very defensive of their status. It's a testosterone contest for some of these guys.
This is a great story that just exemplifies our sport's history.
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| Here's another one, while I'm still in a story-telling mode...which is most of the time.
My dad scheduled a magazine ad photo shoot on Lake Altoona featuring the brand-new Martin 200 outboard (20 whole horses!), and I got to tag along with the rejoinder that I keep out of the way and my mouth shut. Which I did, until now. I think it was around 1951. The Minneapolis agency that handled the account brought in four male and as many Twin City female models, and a fleet of sparkling new Larson lap-strake boats, which I (then age 16) thought were as desireable as the girls, maybe more so, and just as unattainable. A photographer equipped with a tri-pod mounted studio camera and exposing 5x7 Ektachrome 4-color plates (hey, guys, this was no cheesy black-and-white shoot!) stationed himself at the end of a long dock, where he pre-focused on a spot on the water immediately in the foreground. Each of the four boats contained a male model (seated at the stern, driving), and a female model perched on the wooden foredeck with her legs thrust foward. My dad pre-arranged a series of hand signals with the boat drivers that would direct their maneuvers. All the females, it should be noted, were attired in two-piece bathing suits. The scenario being: the boats took turns passing over the exact spot where the camera was focused, at which point the girls would lift one arm (while looking at the camera), smile, and wave. And the male model would also muster a big Ipana grin. You've guessed it: this ad waren't aimed at none of them grubby musky spankers.
The shoot went on for some time, a variation being all four boats in a staggered finger-four formation driving wide open past the end of the dock. A wind had been making up over the previous half-hour and the lake began to develop a pretty serious chop when suddenly I heard what sounded like a scream above the sound of the outboards. Looking out over the water, I noticed one of the female models with her head back and mouth wide open. The stimulus for her anguish was her brassiere; the pounding hull had emptied it of its ampleness and said support had fallen, disenfranchised, down around the young lady's waist. The law of physics base rule now kicked in (for every force there is an equal, opposing force). The result -- and I do not use the word carelessly -- was astonishing in its animation. Suddenly it made perfect sense: the Norsemen who inhabited Minnesota in those long-ago days knew what they were doing when they force-fed their daughters lutefisk at every meal.
The boat was fast approaching the critical shooting area when I saw my dad lift his arm --rather like the starter at the Indianapolis brick works -- and then make a sweeping motion. But instead of slowing down and stopping, the boat sped around in a tight circle and approached the dock again. And again the old man waved his arm. The young lady in the boat did not dare release her iron grip on the foredeck gunnels lest she be tossed into the air by the next hammering wave. As I recollect, the boat made three or four passes before the driver slowed and stopped. I noticed that the photographer had dropped a dark slide on the dock in his haste to change the film holders. Dear God! -- had the photos been ruined?
I don't remember much of anything else about that day, except my father's not-very-convincing explanation that he had gotten his hand signals mixed up. That, and his pathetic attempts to calm the tearful young lady, were of no avail.
The photographer couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Taking my dad aside, he inquired: "How did you get the wind to come up like that?"
I never did see the photos; I wouldn't have dared to ask. But I saw the photographer again, or rather his photograph, and his name which appeared in many publications over the years. From blood, guts and glory to boobs, bouncing boats and bawling babes. None other than Joe Rosenthal...
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| DUDE!! Feel free to continue w/ the stories...a refreshing break from all the other stuff that crowds our tiny minds each day![:sun:] |
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| keep them coming!! It's fun to read those stories.
anon, get a life ... |
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| I have a few of them in different colors and have caught fish on them, its not the first bait I reach for but will use it for a change of pace. |
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