FISHING THE PACIFIC 



national Tuna Matches at Wedgeport in 1950, and as I write 

 this, it is good to learn that he is to captain the team in 1953. 



Airs. Farrington and I were honored by an invitation to 

 visit the prime minister in the capitol at Canberra. Dinners 

 were also given for us in Melbourne and several other places. 

 From one end of the country to the other— from the Great 

 Barrier Reef to Brisbane to Melbourne, as well as in Tas- 

 mania, which unfortunately I could not visit— the urge to 

 fish is terrific. 



To sum up what I caught in Australia I will gladly admit 

 that it was a total zero. I lost four black marlin and could not 

 even catch striped marlin. Mrs. Farrington in the meantime 

 caught five black marlin and a couple of striped marlin. It 

 got so that the newspapers were putting on the front page: 

 "Wife Does It Again." I sure got a kick out of that one. 

 Imagine a city of a million and a half people and a paper like 

 the Sydney Herald publishing such stuff on the front page. 

 One Sunday morning they even ran a four-picture spread 

 and an account of our experiences. On the front page a few 

 days before leaving Australia the Sydney Herald carried the 

 following editorial about my ill luck. It was called "Rod for 

 an Angler's Back," and I always carry the clipping. 



Citizens whose habit it is to ponder the inscrutable workings 

 of fate have no doubt been giving attention lately to the 

 poignant case of Mr. S. Kip Farrington, Jr. An American big 

 game fisherman of world renown, he has been practicing his 

 art in the eastern coastal waters of Australia, yet up to last 

 night he had caught nothing. A run of ill luck lasting for 

 more than a month. All anglers, of course, have their ups and 

 downs, but to fish for fourteen days without a single success- 



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