The man under that orange and white cap with a capital T front and center — to anyone even vaguely familiar with the bass fishing industry, Bill Dance is unmistakable. A gift from former Tennessee football coach Doug Dickey, the original hat came as a “thank you” for nudging a prospective recruit to UT. But after Dance wore it during a major tournament win and then on his TV show, the hat has become synonymous with one of industry’s most lovable personalities — and one of Tennessee’s biggest fans.
But as much as he loves his Vols, Dance treasures every drop of the 652-mile Tennessee River. This fertile waterway he describes as boasting great water quality and loads of high-protein forage has yielded many memorable moments — from nabbing an 8 1/4-pound Pickwick smallmouth, to hosting celebrities such as NASCAR legend Bobby Allison and the late actor/country artist Jerry Reed.
Broad is the spectrum of his angling experiences, but if there’s one thing you can always count on from Bill Dance, it’s a good story; and when we asked him for his favorite Tennessee River tales, he did not disappoint. We’ll warm up with this one.
“When we started the Pickwick Bass Club many years ago, we had five members and the worst I ever did was fifth place,” Dance jokes. “Someone would ask how I did in a tournament, and when I said ‘fifth,’ they’d say, ‘Well, that’s pretty good,’ but I wouldn’t tell them there was only five of us fishing.”
Here are a few more.
High ground
Ever heard a story and thought, “I know someone who would do that”? Well, Dance has a doozy that will no doubt conjure a certain face for all of us.
So, this old-time commercial fisherman named Buck told a friend known as Parker he had a solid game plan for a Pickwick catfishing mission. The strategy centered on the current from Wilson Dam’s power-generation schedule, which Buck had observed starting around 8 a.m. (We’re going without the tva.com data on this one.)
Short on budget, but long on ingenuity, the pair chopped foot-long chunks of highly buoyant chestnut wood for drift floats. Around nightfall, they paddled their wooden boat into the back of Lower Anderson Branch and caught about four dozen green leopard frogs — a rare treat that catfish can’t resist.
With bait secured, they made camp and rigged their floats with twine and hooks by firelight. Then, around 11:30, the anglers rowed upriver toward State Line Island, where they baited each hook with a leopard frog and then paddled back down to a bluff just above Pickwick Dam. Here, they tied off their boat around daybreak and got into position to watch for their current-born chestnut floats.
Dance continues, “About 8:00, they saw the current starting to move, and Buck looked way up the lake and said, ‘Do you see ’em?’ Parker said, ‘Yeah, I think I see one.’ Buck said, ‘Is it jerking? Is it moving?’ Parker said, ‘No, but there’s another one. I’m starting to see them now. The current is drifting them this way.’
“Buck said, ‘Do you see any of them moving?’ Parker said ‘I see a bunch of them, but I don’t see them moving yet.’ Buck said ‘Well, I’ll be. We set those things at a perfect time and a perfect location; we ought to have a bunch of catfish on them things. Get in the boat; let’s go out there.’”
Perplexed by their lack of success, the men rowed out to examine their rigs. Just imagine their dismay when they found each of their leopard frogs riding safely atop those chestnut floats.
Should’ve remembered the lead weights.
Breakfast is served
During a stay at the historic Boatel — a once-flooded TVA work boat hauled ashore and converted into a recreational lodging/dining establishment — Dance and a pal showed up for breakfast but found no cook on duty. Knowing the owner didn’t mind friends fixing their own meals, Dance started cooking two rounds of sausage, eggs and toast.
While he tended the flat top, four more patrons walked in and placed their order to a good-natured bass celebrity kind enough to just let them think he was the cook. As he started their order, he placed the two plates he’d prepared for himself and his pal off to the side, just as two more hungry anglers arrived.
“They said, ‘Are you cooking?’ and I said, ‘What do you want?’ One of them said, ‘Anything,’ so I asked, ‘How about sausage, eggs and toast?’ He said, ‘Fine,’ so I gave him my breakfast. The other guy said he wanted the same, so I gave him my friend’s breakfast.”
Awfully nice of him, but Dance wasn’t about to play the big-shot card on anyone. So, as the local bass club’s entire tournament field made its way through the Boatel restaurant, guess who made sure they all got fed?
“I sat there and cooked 32 breakfasts,” Dance chuckles. “I didn’t have on my T cap, so they didn’t recognize me. They ate well, but none of them left a tip.”
It’s a safe bet that Dance’s “customers” enjoyed their breakfasts, but this next story ends with a meal of questionable palatability.
Challenge accepted
Dance may have faced stiffer competition in B.A.S.S. events, but one of his most meaningful achievements was a local jackpot event on Pickwick. Why? Well, there’s just something particularly gratifying about not only picking up the gauntlet, but spit shining it, turning it sideways and sticking it … well, you get the picture.
Such was the case when a visit to a Tennessee bait shop quickly found Dance embroiled in a spirited round of smack talk. Seems the local sticks were posturing for an upcoming tournament and thought that mind games could rattle America’s Favorite Fisherman.
“I told them I couldn’t fish because I had a sponsor promotion and this one old boy named Baker said, ‘You’re just afraid to get beat by a bunch of country boys’,” Dance recalls. “I said, ‘Listen, let me tell you something; if you can’t accept defeat, you shouldn’t compete.’ He said, ‘Well, that’s why you’re not fishing — you couldn’t stand it if these old country boys beat you.’”
The term “chicken” may have been spoken or implied at some point; so, when Dance’s sponsor event was canceled, he knew what he had to do. Imagine the looks of chagrin when Dance and his partner rolled up to the ramp on tournament morning. Those looks would get a lot more, well, chagrin-y in about eight hours.
Team Dance actually struggled most of the day, and just about the time they wanted to hit a main-lake sweet spot, a fierce storm sent them seeking shelter under a vacant boathouse. Fortunately, the dark clouds loosened enough to allow them an afternoon visit that yielded a scorching flurry, during which two presumed underdogs lit ’em up like summer lightning and headed to the weigh-in with thunderous authority.
Back at the dock, a pompous welcoming committee boasting of limits in the 11- to 14-pound range fell hard for a classic rope-a-dope. Feigning defeat, Dance started with his little ones.
“There was a bunch of ’em standing there in a little huddle, watching us, and one old boy ran down the ramp and said, ‘You better hope you got ’em,’” Dance said. “We start putting our fish in these see-through bags, and I put three in there and he said, ‘They got you beat.’ So, I waited another minute, reached in the other side of the livewell and I put another big one in. Then I reached in and put a 6-pounder in the bag.
“Every time I’d pull one out, they’d go ‘Uhhhh!’ Ole Baker didn’t know whether to wind his belt or tighten his watch! I said, ‘Baker over there called me a chicken; now he’s calling me a lucky S.O.B.’”
Reflecting on the moment, Dance credits meteorological mercy for silencing the trash talkers.
“We got so lucky; if that storm hadn’t let us fish that spot, I don’t know what we would have done,” he said. “We went from two little bitty fish to 23 pounds in a little over an hour.”
Dance had no problem collecting the $270 top prize; but long on grace and deep with generosity, he offered to treat his naysayers to lunch.
“The boy at that store cooked the best baked ham sandwiches,” he recalled. “I said, ‘I’ll buy y’all a sandwich. I don’t know how a S.O.B. sandwich will taste, but I’ll buy you one!’”
Bloopin’ on the river
Now what’s a Bill Dance tale without recalling those beloved bloopers? Everyone has their favorites — from breaking rod tips in ceiling fans, to juggling snakes that fall out of low-hanging branches — but here’s a roundup of Bill Dance Outdoors bloopers unintentionally captured while filming on the Tennessee River.
Taking The Plunge: Dance sets the hook on a fish while sitting in the swivel seat of a johnboat and, as the momentum spins him backward, he knocks his cameraman right into the drink.
Ramp Rehab: Dance’s fishing partner is backing him and a johnboat into a Pickwick creek, and just about the time the boat should slide off, Dance realizes that instead of floating, he’s filling. That’ll happen when you don’t remove the straps.
Blade Runner: Dance gives his trolling motor the juice and it comes right off the bracket. Somehow, he manages to hold on, but with the motor sputtering and digging every time Dance loses his balance, the ensuing scene presents the most hilarious tug of war you’ll ever see.
Funny stuff, for sure; but such chuckles are the byproduct of over 50 years devoted to teaching folks how to fish, promoting conservation/environmental stewardship and encouraging anglers to learn through doing. So, as the 2019 Bassmaster Classic unfolds on the Tennessee River, look for the man under that famous white and orange cap.
He’ll be around; and he’ll probably have a great story to share.
Originally published Bassmaster Magazine 2019.
