I felt a deep sense of self-fulfillment from my effort to help the people in Angola. From there, I decided to go back in time to Amity Island in 1975.

Shortly after my arrival, I picked up a local newspaper and browsed through the classifieds. I focused on one particular ad that read “Help Wanted: Commercial Fisherman.” Under that, the ad read “HARD WORK / RISKY BUSINESS / BIG BUCKS!”

I said to myself, “This is going to be a piece of cake!”

The next morning, I rented a “Party Barge” pontoon boat. Like everyone else in the area, I wanted to go trolling for “Jaws.”

I propelled my way nearly a mile out into the rough waves of the Atlantic Ocean. Then, through a pair of binoculars, I looked back toward shore. I could see the Corvette; it was parked next to a sign, which was stuck in the sand on the beach. The public notice posted on Amity Island read “Shark Danger / Beaches Closed.” Just up the shoreline from the warning sign, I saw the broken down remains of what had been a long wooden boat dock.

There was a black metal chair folded up and leaning against a shark cage on the deck of the pontoon boat. I set up the shark cage, unfolded the chair, and placed it in the center of the cage.

I was equipped with a heavy, steel-link chain, which I used for fishing line. After I baited my hook and tossed the chain out of the back of the boat, I anchored the butt end of my suit of armor down on the small chair.

The door of the steel shark cage was swung wide open. Just inside and off to one side of the cage, there was a stainless-steel pony keg marked “Zapmeister Brew / Gives you a real BUZZ!” Four more pony kegs were roped together; those barrels stood up near the bow of the boat. The extra kegs, in addition to preventing me from dying of thirst, could have served, after they were emptied, to keep Jaws, once hooked, near the surface of the ocean.

I had placed a portable TV on top of the pony keg that sat in the shark cage. The TV was wired to the boat’s on-board generator. I cozily leaned back on the chair, a pewter beer stein in one hand, a chain-link fishing line in the other. I smoked a Tomarlbury and watched a baseball game on TV. I was cool, calm, and ready to do battle with whatever grabbed the bait.

A couple of hours passed by without my getting so much as a nibble. After I had chugged down too many beers, I almost fell asleep. Then I gathered my senses and belched out, “No (belch) sweat! Easy (belch) job and big bucks (belch) to boot! Still, I (belch) wonder why Chief Brody and those (belch) two guys on the dock (belch) told me to bring all this heavy duty (belch) equipment?” (Roy Scheider played Police Chief Martin Brody in the 1975 blockbuster film Jaws.)

My chain-link fishing line dropped almost straight down for several yards behind the boat. It was hooked to a big black ball, serving as a sinker. A thinner chain-link line, which I used for a leader, trailed a few feet behind the ball and the heavier steel line. For bait, I attached a big, juicy, raw roast to a hook-shaped boat anchor.

Jaws swam by but he wasn’t fooled. The fussy, man-eating shark turned his nose away from the blood-dripping roast. However, a less finicky, sharp-toothed, moray eel clamped down on the steel leader, sending an electric current all the way through the chain-link line and through every metal object onboard the all-metal boat.

Sparks flew. Immediately, I was thrown up against the back wall of the steel shark cage. Both my arms and legs were splayed against the bars; my feet were lifted several inches off the ground. The power surge blew out the TV screen, knocked the chair over, and caused me to spill most of my beer. My Tomarlbury cigarette ended up somewhere on the high sea.

As I sweated drops the size of water balloons, and with an expression of complete shock, I shouted, “God, why do I have to work so hard to get what I want?”

The Lord made another appearance. And She was prepared for the occasion. She had slipped a heavy pair of knee-high, rubber waders over Her white sneakers and blue jeans. God said, “Wantsalittle, sometimes it pays to insulate yourself from external stimuli!”

“Yeah! I just received the shock of my life!”

“This ‘fishing job’ isn’t exactly the ‘piece of cake’ that you had envisioned it to be,” the Lord said. “Perhaps I can offer you some valuable food for thought. A.H. Smith, former president of the New York Central Railroad, once said of his industry, ‘A railroad is 95% men and 5% iron.’ Wantsalittle, regardless of what it is that you want most in life, chances are that you’ll have to work very hard to get it.”

“I’m beginning to see what You mean!”

“To be truly happy or successful in life, you must love or really enjoy, at least, what it is that you do for a living or for some form of artistic expression. Take pride in your work. Focus on performance and accomplishment. Accept responsibility and hold yourself accountable for your words and actions.”

God paused for a moment and glared at me. “And drinking and smoking while you’re on the job is a definite ‘NO—NO’!”

“You’re right, Lord. I’m sorry. What else can You tell me about working hard to get what I want?”

“If others are involved, you should establish an optimum work pace, whereby people won’t be over-stressed. But they will be realistically challenged and committed to the task at hand. When others are ready for it, delegate responsibility. Grant them authority to carry out their work assignments. . . . As you think with the attitude of maintaining a strong work ethic, you will more likely accomplish that which you want most. Wantsalittle, try to determine what it is that you would love to do and would be willing to work extra hard to get. . . . That’s all that I have to say for now. I’ll catch up with you later!”

I finally caught Jaws about an hour after the Lord had left. I towed the huge shark back to Amity Island. When I arrived on the boat dock, Jaws was still alive and very active! With the help of about a dozen other fishermen, I let the trophy-size fish loose in a swimming pool at a local island resort.

Later that day I climbed aboard the Great White shark. Next, I threw a lasso around Jaws’ broad neck and tightly pulled on the rope. As if I were a rodeo star trying to hold the reins on a bucking bronco, I tried to ride the fully alert and highly energetic shark. We circled the pool in a clockwise direction. Jaws’ head and tail continuously arched out of the water. I worked extra hard to maintain my balance, scooting from side to side, then back and forth, while I straddled the back of the swift-swimming, rambunctious beast.

Enraged with his captivity, the furious fish leaped and darted throughout countless laps around the oval pond. The 26-foot-long, two-ton giant romped and endlessly tried to buck me off his back.

I was confident but a little apprehensive about the giant fish. Sporadically, Jaws’ monstrous mouth swung wide open, exposing his razor-sharp, arrowhead-size teeth. Once, the big shark tried his best to bite me, but then he blinked. All he got was my sweat in his eye! Jaws’ evil eyes rolled, upward, and coldly stared at me. The shark’s flat-black eyes, like a pair of hockey pucks turned on end, gazed straight into my own widening eyes.

My steel glove was tightly tucked under the lasso on the back of Jaws’ neck. The Great White shark continued to try to buck me off, but I think the gradually tiring fish knew that it was only a matter of time before I tamed him. As I slid my left-hand steel glove farther ahead on the lasso and squeezed the taught rope, even tighter than before, I said, “Working hard to accomplish a task can also be adventuresome and stimulating to your heart and soul!”

(The moral of this episode: As A.H.Smith wisely said, “Regardless of what it is that you want most in life, chances are that you’ll have to work very hard to get it!”)

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