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By Ray Scott

Taps For A “Good Soldier”

He was a leader.  The product of the U.S. Marines.  Short, stocky, barking out orders like a drill sergeant on the parade grounds.

His recruits were not in olive green or camo.  They looked like a mixed breed.  Jackets blazoned with bass club patches, their allegiance to boat companies or lure manufacturers. 

But, they moved like a well-drilled unit.  The volunteers at the Bassmaster Top 100 Pro-Am tournament.   The Bass Anglers Sportsman Society (B.A.S.S.) had crossed the Mason-Dixon line to bivouac below Washington D.C. on the Potomac River in Charles County Maryland.  September 20^th, 1989 the date.

Decked out in a Maryland BASS Federation cap, Nelson (Butch) Ward marched down the dock at the tournament check out, all the time continuing to rattle off orders to the rank and file club members.

“Mr. Scott, we’re glad you Southern boys finally decided to come up here to the Northeast.  I’ve got to apologize that we don’t know much about grits and cornpone, but we’ve got some of the best crabs you’ll put in your mouth at Captain Billy’s and you’re looking at one of the best bass fisheries in the country.”

Butch Ward, I soon learned wasn’t the sergeant-at-arms for the tidewater Federation, but the Commander-in-Chief.  He operated with the precision of General Ike at the start of D-Day in Europe.  Few tournaments, in the long, proud history of the Bassmaster Tournament Trail, ran any smoother.  He seemed to be everywhere and anywhere.  General Butch Ward loomed large and definitely in charge.

That’s how I remember him.  Bigger than life.   Seemingly in control of the situation and always eager to fill one more request, tackle another challenge or offer his advice on how-to fish the Potomac River. 

The Bassmaster Tournament Trail returned frequently to the Maryland shores.  For most of the trips I’d served as weighmaster.  But, since leaving B.A.S.S. in 1998 to form Ray Scott Outdoors™, a marketing and consulting group to the fishing-marine industry, last fall passed with an open date on the calendar.  I regret not making the tournament.  More so, not having spent the week with Butch Ward, watching him deliver his marching orders to the Federation volunteers.

“Mr. Scott, you’ve just got to let me take you fishing.  Everyone talks about the largemouth fishing in the river, but that doesn’t compare with the smallmouth on the upper Potomac,” opined Butch Ward.   (For the record, Butch’s best 10-fish string of smallmouths weighed over 43 pounds.)

 Like a lot of things in life, we talked about getting together to fish the Upper river; where in Butch’s shallow-draft, jet-drive other fishermen, usually, didn’t travel.

 Regretfully, we never made it.  On November 23, 1999, Nelson (Butch) Ward, a seemingly young man at 58 years old died.  The cause of death listed as “pancreatic failure.”

 As “tall as the Washington Monument” is how Maryland Federation B.A.S.S. members describe Butch Ward’s stature.  Short and stocky, but the man cast a big shadow.

 Ken Penrod, writing in the Maryland Federation Update (Feb.-Mar. 2000) recounted:

“DNR biologist, Ed Ennamaite, and a good friend to Butch, whispered to me at the funeral:   ‘I’ll need the names and telephone numbers of the five people you intend to replace him with.’

 “Butch was the President, tournament director, special events director, best Federation Update ads salesman, youth activities booster and public relations emissary.  Butch Ward was the Maryland BASS Federation,” asserted Ken Penrod.

 Butch Ward’s death leaves a huge void, not only in Maryland, but on a national scale.   His contribution to the sport of bass fishing rippled across state boundaries.  He was an extremely focused individual, a natural leader of men and youths.  His legacy marks the path for others to follow.