Billy Mac: An Appreciation

Such was the nature of Ogunquit fisherman’s Billy McIntire’s life that when 500 or more mourners turned out at a memorial service for him at the Franciscan monastery in Kennebunk, few were surprised by the size of the crowd

Yet it’s worth asking just why they all came.

As a commercial fisherman who cut his teeth chasing bluefin tuna, Billy Mac was known in ports from Down East Maine to Cape Cod. But so are lots of other guys, some of whom you’d miss if they were gone. The question is, would you miss them enough to give up a beautiful late summer Sunday to fight tourist traffic and drive to Kennebunk from Plymouth, Mass., or Stonington?

In any case, this was not a gathering limited to fishermen. It’s safe to say that half the folks — or more — who attended his memorial wouldn’t recognize tuna outside of a can.

News reports stemming from the tragic night in August when Billy McIntire went overboard and disappeared, off Ogunquit, made much of his reputation as someone who enjoyed a good time. And he did. But people do not attend services for everyone they ever had a beer with.

The truth is that Billy McIntire lived his life in a time and place that will soon to be lost to us. He never surrendered his youth or his optimism and he strived to make the most of every day.

Billy’s father, Sonny McIntire, is a living legend in the tuna fleet, particularly among harpoon fishermen. Sonny and other fishermen of his generation caught a lot of tuna for five cents a pound or less, which is to say they caught them for nothing, but by the time Billy came of age in the late 1980s bluefin were very much worth catching.

Back then, guys who knew what they were doing and were willing to put their time in could catch quite a few bluefin in a season. Billy and Sonny caught their share, and then some.

It never seemed like long ago when you were talking to Billy.

Because the truth is fishing isn’t what it used to be. Yes, the notion of poor years is axiomatic to fishing — how else can there be good years? But the problem today isn't simply fish. A fisherman can wait out low prices and bad weather, but ignorance, politics, and mismanagement are enduring.

Commercial fishing has always been a hard road — if you treasure long days, unrelenting weather, uncertain pay, and lots of heavy lifting it’s just the job for you. Billy Mac knew fishing, lived fishing and loved fishing. He told me spent 12 days on an offshore lobster boat last winter and was the oldest guy on the boat by 15 years.

You’d have never known it to look at him.

Somehow people like me, who in the next 12 months won’t do as much work as Billy did in those 12 days — real work, back-breaking, tired, wet and hungry work — often feel as though we just have to have a break.

And yet, we do work hard, if in our own way. And we are uncertain about our pay. Yes, we get a regular paycheck, but what happens when we’re let go? It happens all around us, all the time. Meanwhile, our money doesn’t go as far as it used to.

We soldier on, but unease gnaws away at something deep within us whenever we contemplate the future. Unlike Billy, we lack the secret to eternal youth. Except that he would have said there was no secret, just knowledge of the world and joyful acceptance of one’s place in it.

And that is why upward of 500 of us showed up at Billy’s memorial service: in addition to wanting to say goodbye and support his family, we wanted to say thanks to him for helping us stay young for all those years.

For 20, 30 years or more, whenever he was around, Billy allowed us to ignore the turning pages of the calendar. No more. We are once again and forevermore in the grip of the hands of time.