Photo by Stephen Hunts

If you didn't know Bud Lilly, it would be easy to think that the sum of the man's life was contained in that room. But he isn't about to dwell upon the past. His fame as a fishing shop operator and outfitter, which made his name synonymous with Western fly-fishing as far back as the 1950s, has simply been the springboard for a second act in conservation. The environmental historian Paul Schullery has called Lilly the "trout's best friend," but it can be argued that he is also the trout fisherman's best friend.

Among Lilly's latest projects is a cooperative effort with the Montana governor's office, Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to broaden the concept of river access and expand and maintain access sites for anglers.

"The river systems are the blood of our existence," he says. "But with more privatization, access is being squeezed down. These are national rivers. We all own them. As I look down the pike, I think it will be more vital than ever before to respect our rivers and maintain them in the highest regard, and to create equal access for everyone."

A Montana State University graduate who was awarded an MSU honorary doctorate in 2001, Lilly is the guiding force and chair of the Trout and Salmonid Collection in MSU's Renne Library, which includes some 11,000 volumes on trout research and fishing, the largest such collection in the country.

Another project dear to his heart is the Wounded Warriors and Quiet Waters Foundation, which he helped found in 2007. The project brings disabled war veterans, some gravely injured, from hospitals around the country to Montana where volunteers introduce them to fly-fishing and the healing power of moving water.

In addition to these projects, Lilly works with the Montana Land Reliance, the Whirling Disease Foundation, the Montana Trout Foundation and is the director of Montana River Action, which works toward maintaining critical flow levels in trout streams threatened by dewatering. He is a past national director of Trout Unlimited, the Federation of Fly Fisherman and the Greater Yellowstone Coalition.

Lilly laughs when he says that his involvement with trout fishing and conservation began when he was born. A descendant of pioneers-his great-great-great grandmother, Mary "Granny" Yates, came to Virginia City during the 1860s gold rush-he grew up in Manhattan. His father, the local barber, introduced him to bait and fly-fishing on the headwater rivers of the Missouri.

He distinctly recalls the first trout he caught, fishing in a diversion ditch a few miles outside town. His aunt Elizabeth recorded the momentous event in her journal.

"I was with Buddy when he caught his first fish," she wrote. "He jumped up and down and said, 'Goddamn! Goddamn!'"

Upon this blasphemy a passion was born.

The upside were trout dinners, enough not only for Lilly's family but for many others, for his father insisted that every fish be eaten, and many days Lilly caught 50 brook trout on grasshoppers.

"In those days, we didn't realize the value of a live trout or the value of a spawning tributary," he recalls.

Early leanings toward conservation that were encouraged by his father were put on hold during the 1940s. Lilly was 16 when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. A fine high school athlete, he'd harbored vague dreams of a pro baseball career and even came to the plate against legendary pitcher Satchel Paige, who was barnstorming around the country with Negro league players during the war. Lilly got a hit off Paige, but was promptly thrown out at second when trying to steal. His baseball dreams were dashed just as abruptly. By the time a letter arrived inviting him to join the Cincinnati Reds farm team in Salt Lake City on July 1, 1943, he already had taken a test offered by Navy representatives who came to Montana looking for officer material.

"I figured if nothing else, (the test) was a good way of getting out of school for two hours," he remembers. A few weeks later, he was in Annapolis' accelerated officer training program.

By June of 1945, Lilly was at sea. He spent most of the war in the Pacific on the USS General RN Blatchford, a troop transport ship that ferried 3,000 soldiers. It was aboard the ship that the 19-year-old ensign was shot when a kamikaze pilot sprayed the crew with its machine guns. Lilly's right pectoral muscle was peeled off by the gunfire. He was stitched up and back on the bridge the next day.

Lilly came home in July 1946. His father's greeting was to the point. "You know," he said, "the salmon flies are on the Madison River."

Lilly smiles. "I took off my uniform, found some old clothes and went right back to fishing."

See and hear Bud Lilly in this story's Web exclusive.

Return to regular view	Text-only              Email this article	Published: 4/27/2009