Editor’s note: Longtime B.A.S.S. angler Jim Bitter died of natural causes on Nov. 11, 2024. Bitter fished more than 200 tournaments with B.A.S.S. — including two seasons on the Bassmaster Elite Series — and made seven Bassmaster Classic appearances.
I first met Jim Bitter in 1983 when we were both vying for the title of top angler in the Gator Division of the Red Man Tournament Trail. He was in the lead going into the final event of the season on Lake Okeechobee, and I was in second.
It was September and the fishing was tough. With just a few points separating us, we both knew a decent catch would seal the deal.
As it turned out, I had the better day. But more than the awards and accolades that followed, it was what Jim said to me that mattered most. He said, “Schultz, if I had to lose to anybody, I’m glad it was you.”
Those words meant a lot, and they marked the beginning of a long friendship — but one that ultimately faded into sorrow and guilt.
The big leap
Before I met Jim, he and his wife Rita owned and operated a fish camp on Lake Griffin — the northernmost lake on the Harris Chain. Tired of the daily grind and pressures of keeping the business afloat, they decided to sell, at which point Rita pursued a career in real estate. Jim took a position with the local department of Fish and Game.
The new job allowed him more time to pursue competitive fishing. And it proved to be time well spent, as Jim soon began to win. He won so much, in fact, his name quickly spread across the state.
When the Red Man Tournament Trail came to Florida, we both signed up. And though I was aware of Jim and his exploits, our paths never really crossed … not until that day on Lake Okeechobee. After that, we spoke at nearly every event … even shared meals on occasion. Then we both started fishing B.A.S.S. Invitationals. And because we lived near each other, it made sense to trailer together to some of those events.
Soon we were sharing hotel rooms and cabins together … both of us enjoying modest success. The lessons came hard and fast, but we managed to survive.
When not competing, we sometimes fished together on the Harris Chain or on Orange Lake. I enjoyed those days the most … when there was no pressure to perform. Just the two of us sharing ideas and techniques, trying to figure out more ways to catch a bass.
Trail of tears
In 1989, we both qualified for the Bassmaster Classic on the James River in Virginia. Excited about the prospect of competing on bass fishing’s biggest stage, we traveled to Chester, Va., to learn as much about the river as possible. When the Classic date arrived, we both felt ready.
Two days into the competition, I was somewhere in the middle of the pack, and Jim was leading. On the final day, upon catching what should have been the winning fish, he was about to place it in the livewell when his press observer, former B.A.S.S. senior writer Tim Tucker, questioned its length. Thinking twice, Jim backed up, laid the fish across the measuring board and, after verifying its length, he then motioned toward the livewell. That’s when the fish flopped out of his hands, bounced off the driver’s console and fell back into the river.
I remember standing next to Rita at weigh-in, before a massive crowd of spectators, watching as Hank Parker carried a hefty bag of fish to the scales — the heaviest of the day, vaulting him into contention for the win. Right after, Jim brought his catch to the scales. Knowing the final tally would be close, Ray Scott stoked the crowd by saying “He needs 6-10 to win … alright, watch it!”
When the scales finally settled and the weight was announced, Jim was 2 ounces short.
The words were crushing, the crowd’s reaction deafening. I clutched Rita as she broke into tears, watching as Jim exited the stage, overcome with emotion.
Had he just ignored his press observer and placed that keeper bass into the livewell, he would have been the world champion. Instead, Hank Parker — whose fame had already been established — chalked up a second Classic victory.
Finding success
The following year, Operation Bass announced its Golden Blend Tour and we both entered. In no time, we both realized success. I won the New York Invitational at the 1000 Islands and Jim won the Golden Blend Championship on Lake Chickamauga. I finished a close second behind him.
What made those finishes even more rewarding — at least for me — was the fact that we caught most of our fish on a spinnerbait I designed for Hildebrandt called “The Blade.”
It was a hectic, busy time, traveling cross-country in pursuit of both trails, but we somehow managed and got better because of it. It was during this period that Jim’s wife Rita started traveling with us, managing the day-to-day details. I liked having her with us. She had a calming effect on Jim, which he sometimes needed.
When the Golden Blend Series gave way to the FLW Tour, we entered — both of us finding success there as well. By this time, Jim had established himself as one of the most successful jerkbait fishermen on tour. So successful in fact, he soon earned the nickname “Jerkin’ Jim.”
Wanting to capitalize on his notoriety, PRADCO gave him his own signature series jerkbaits — a Smithwick Rattlin’ Rogue and Bomber Long A.
Jim was also adept at structure fishing. He won two Top 100 B.A.S.S. events — one on Lake Minnetonka, the other on the Hudson River — by fishing a Hildebrandt Tin Roller, another one of my designs. He went on to qualify for six more Classics, winning a total of five B.A.S.S. events in the process.
Troubled waters
Overall, it was a good time for both of us … but not one without conflict.
Because we shared so much information, we sometimes ended up in the same areas, competing for the same fish. On several occasions, greed and jealousy got in the way of our friendship, and it eventually came to a head during an event on the Harris Chain of Lakes.
Jim beat me to a spot I had fished the year before and was dead set on defending it. Because I told him about it and how I was able to catch fish behind others on that specific stretch of bank, I felt entitled to it as well. Looking back, maybe I should have yielded. But at the time, I felt cheated … as if he had taken it from me.
Several times before we battled over water — sometimes I was guilty of encroachment, and sometimes he was to blame. We fought like brothers, but somehow managed to get past it … until the Harris Chain incident.
Jim went on to finish second in that event. I barely scratched out a check. The outcome was so bitter and costly, I couldn’t get past it.
Soon after, Jim retired from competitive fishing and our paths never crossed again. Our only connection was through his brother John and some mutual friends.
In November, I learned Jim had passed away. The news saddened me deeply. Looking back, I hate myself for not making things right with him, and for any pain those conflicts may have caused Rita. I loved them both like family, and I treasure the good times we shared. I wish things had ended differently.
Jim was intelligent and wise, strict but fair. We shared the same views, the same sense of humor. In many ways he was a role model for me. But competition can be costly. It brings out the best and the worst in people. That was true for both of us.
Rest in peace, Jim. You’ll always be a Classic champion in my mind.