ALBACORA 17 



Iquique. To us, at least, Bosco, the mightiest fish in all 

 the sea, is an albacora. 



There is some fancy in the legend and Lou loves to 

 tell it, but on dry land Lou is without many fancies. 

 He is a practical, level-headed businessman. The met- 

 amorphosis which occurs when he embarks on the sea is 

 not surprising. Fishing has a special significance for my 

 husband. 



Lou worked hard and at thirty-seven, after having 

 built up a solid and substantial business, the Coastal 

 Oil Company, he suffered a severe coronary attack. It 

 was a trying time, four full months before he was out 

 of danger and able to think once more of the future. 

 "Suppose I play a quiet game of golf from time to 

 time?" he asked his doctor. 



"Then I won't be responsible for what happens to 

 you," the physician said. 



"What about fishing?" Lou asked. 



The doctor undoubtedly thought of catching sunfish 

 from a rowboat or sleeping near a lazy country stream. 

 "When you're all well again," he said, "you can go 

 fishing." 



As soon as Lou got back on his feet, he went fishing 

 — but not exactly in a rowboat. That very year he went 

 fishing on the high seas, pitting his skill and strength 

 against giant tuna, tenacious bulldogs of the sea that 

 sometimes weigh up to 1,000 pounds. For whatever 

 medical significance it may have, Lou's heart has been 



