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Cover Story If you’re driving on Route 49 this month past Cowanesque Lake, or you’re on the water of Keuka Lake, you’re likely to see a very unusual boat. It’s an 18-foot aluminum Ranger with a 115-horsepower Mercury outboard. The boat is a wider model, but nothing so unusual about that. In the front seat you’ll see Curt Sweely, a big guy in his 50s wearing a fishing hat, casting for bass in a Tioga County Bass Anglers club tournament. He’s sitting in a special seat, designed by his fishing Curt’s a powerful guy, over 190 pounds, who grew up in Tioga and, along with his father, has enjoyed the outdoors all his life. His trophy room is filled with awards, 48 trophies for bass fishing, lunker awards, deer and turkey trophies. He’s well-known on the lakes of New York and Pennsylvania for his ability to read the water and land bass. For years, he seemed unbeatable. He’d have one in the livewell before his partner could get the net. Now Curt can no longer fish without Mary. He can’t stand without holding on to Mary. He can’t walk but a few feet without leaning on Mary. Curt was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy (MD) at the age of 20, and has gotten progressively worse. He gave up driving in 1999. He didn’t feel safe behind the wheel for himself or others. He couldn’t lift his foot from the gas to the On the water, he’s an iron man. He sits high in the fishing seat. He fishes every club tournament, thirteen days between June and October, with Mary. He has fished 224 of 226 club tournaments; 176 of those tournaments were consecutive. The only two he missed were the day the hull of his boat cracked, and the time he underwent a medical procedure—a catheter ablation, a procedure to curb abnormal heartbeats that cause arrhythmia. The procedure didn’t work. Curt has an enlarged heart, an irregular heartbeat, glaucoma and cataracts from prescribed steroids. His next step will be a pacemaker. But there’s something inside that science can’t replace or measure. On cold and rainy mornings, when the other club members are still in bed, you’ll see Curt on Hammond or Cowanesque fishing for bass, with Mary. Just being able to get out of bed in the morning is a pleasant surprise. “He really gets excited around tournament time,” Mary says. “He finds himself setting the hook while sleeping or taking a nap.” Small wonder that he says, “The best catch of my life is my wife, Mary.” As the disease progressed, he fished more and more with his father, not wanting to burden club members. For years, Leigh was Curt’s number one fishing partner, making father and son even closer. Following Leigh’s death in a tragic accident in 2004, at the age of 74, Mary put on the fishing hat her father-in-law wore and jumped into the boat. Fishing for them is more than a team effort, it’s a ritual of husband and wife. and to John Tomb, a fellow bass club member and friend. So the three of us put our heads together and adapted some plates, bolts, and a car jack into a crank-up seat for Curt. Now, Mary helps him slide into the seat, and then cranks him up, just like jacking up a car. Mary added a seatbelt to the fishing seat so she can strap him in. The makeshift setup allows Curt to continue pursuing his passion. He spends winters home with their two dogs and two cats visiting fishing web sites, baking breads and an “awesome wheat crust pizza,” Mary says. “But he always leaves the mess for me to clean up.” Curt also uses the down time to get his equipment ready for the approaching season. He cleans his rods and reels, puts on new line, and checks the lures. With an accountant’s skill, he keeps statistics for the club that rival those of a professional baseball team. In winter he reviews the stats he has compiled from all the previous years and plans his strategy. He will know where to fish and what to use. He will be one to contend with when the competition begins. Curt says his wife, his friends, and his faith keep him going. Curt and Mary attend the Jackson Summit Baptist Church. Doug Hodge, a fellow angler and club member, is the pastor. “We get our strength from our Lord,” Mary says. One of their favorite Bible passages is from the New Testament, Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” The Sweely family’s philosophy is, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” says Mary. “When we meet a new challenge, we find a way to adapt. We see God working in our lives, daily helping us to meet all of our challenges.” Curt’s dad, also a man of faith, put it more simply whenever his son faced a s Holding the rod is a challenge for Curt. So is setting the hook. He’s a proud man, but Mary helps him along the way. And Curt still competes hard. At the end of last season’s final tournament in October, competing against a couple dozen fishermen, the wind and chill picked up, and Curt leaned over and secured his rods in place. Mary turned the crank and the seat lowered to the deck as they unfastened the seatbelt. With her help, Curt slid along the transfer board to the driver’s seat, started the engine, and they headed for the weigh-in. Mary carried Curt’s fish to the scales to be weighed in as he leaned against the boat and watched. The news was good. He would finish in fifth place for the classic and ninth place for the year. It wasn’t his usual first or second place finish, but he was happy. He was happy to be fishing competitively. He was happy to be fishing at all. Curt’s passion inspires his fellow club members. John Tombs, who helps Curt maintain his boat, says, “Knowing Curt, two words come up—passion and perseverance. The passion he has for the sport of bass fishing has allowed him to overcome huge obstacles and persevere when others may have quit. When I feel low or need a little inspiration, I think of Curt and his stick-to-it attitude. He is never down. He is always thinking about his next fishing trip or tournament with his friends.” The guys in the bass club say they will do what it takes to keep Curt on the water, even if that means carrying him onto the boat. Not surprisingly, another one of Curt and Mary’s favorite Bible passage comes from Mark 1:17: “And Jesus said to them, ‘Follow Me, and I will make you become fishers of men.’” In his own way, Curt is a fisher of men. He hooks people into fishing. I was one of them. How do I come to be in this story? In 1982 I began working at Dresser-Rand. On my 40-mile trip to work from Wellsboro to Painted Post, I would pass by East Lawrence Road, just south of Lawrenceville, where Curt would be in his car waiting to enter onto Route 15 on his drive to Dresser-Rand. We didn’t know each other, but he recognized my car from work and he would see me, as he put it, “fly by” each morning. One day he caught me in the parking lot after work, and we agreed to carpool. Naturally, he being a bass angler and I, a trout fisherman, we would talk about fishing. But it took some time until he finally convinced me to go fishing with him. I’d say, “Anyone could catch a bass,” and he’d say, “Well, come and try it, let’s see how you do.” So one day I did go fishing with him. That was all it took. I was hooked, so to speak. I signed up as a bass club member. Curt and I spent many days and evenings fishing together after work and entering tournaments. Usually on the ride home from work we would plan where to go that evening or the coming weekend. We even skipped work and journeyed to more distant lakes to check out new waters. We became good fishing buddies. Curt will tell me, “I talked you into joining the club. Then what did you do? You bought a boat, then a tow vehicle, and all those rods and reels. Then what do you do? You blame it all on me!” And I say, “Yep, it’s all your fault!” When we met in 1982, doctors had told Curt that “he would be lucky to have two more years of fishing, at the most.” That was over 25 years ago, and he is still fishing and competing in tournaments today. At first, Curt didn’t want me to do this story; he doesn’t like to draw attention to himself. But we’re friends, and he agreed. As we talked after club meetings and exchanged e-mails on the internet, I realized you can be friends with someone for years, fishing buddies for years, and you think you know them. But do you really know them? I was surprised when I learned more about Curt and his family. Fishermen tell amazing stories. They call them fish stories. But this one’s true. A FISH STORY THAT’S REALLY HAPPENED Leigh Sweely was a beloved member of the Tioga community. He was a forest fire warden and volunteer firefighter for 50 years. In 1992 he retired from Dresser-Rand, where he worked as a milling machine operator. He never had a bad word to say about anyone, and I never heard him cuss. The closest he ever got was to say, “fiddlin’.” Most of the time he meant it in a kind way. If he came up a fish short to win a place in a tournament, he’d say, “One fiddlin’ fish and I’d be in the money.” His son, Curt, followed him into the woods and onto the bass boat, and he became a junior fireman at fourteen. After graduating from Tioga’s Williamson High School in 1972, he earned a degree in business administration at Corning Community College in 1974, and went to work in accounting for Dresser-Rand. Curt loved turkey hunting and is a lifetime member of the National Wild Turkey Federation. He dreamed of working outdoors, but the year he graduated from college was the year he was first diagnosed with MD. Curt’s favorite food was hamburger, so it was only appropriate that two years out of college, on March 19, 1976, he had a blind date with a girl who worked at McDonalds. He remembers the date because it was his first with Mary Bennett. Mary says she was “hooked.” They were married September 3, 1977, and two years later bought their house in Lawrenceville. When daughter Michelle was born on August 12, 1981, Mary left her position at Corning to be a stay-at-home mom. Thirteen years later, she returned to work taking an office position at the A.G. Edwards investment firm in Painted Post. Curt’s declining health made it necessary for her to seek flexible part-time work. Mary loves her job now as activities coordinator at the Corning Senior Citizens Center, working 24 hours a week. It was hard for Curt to accept that he couldn’t Curt and his dad grew ever closer in a bass boat. When Michelle was a year old, Curt and Leigh were two of the founders of the Tioga County Bass Anglers fishing club with several friends. Father and son and other club members made fishing trips to North Carolina, South Carolina, Virginia and Tennessee. With his dad assisting him in the boat, Curt was unbeatable. In 1992 he swept the club’s top prizes—Angler of the Year, Member of the Year, and Lunker of the Year. For years Curt and Leigh shared a boat together. Curt and his Dad were best buddies, as close as a father and son could be. They entered open tournaments together, enjoying not only the tournament’s competition but also a friendly rivalry. Curt always talked about his father’s tackle box saying, “It was such a mess. He might as well throw all his lures in a plastic bucket; it would be a lot neater.” Leigh was there at his son’s side to help as Curt’s growing infirmity inhibited his movement about the boat. They talked about fishing and hunting, their past experiences and future plans. They always had some of Patty’s great baked goods. If the fish weren’t biting, they would just sit back, munch on the goodies, and enjoy nature. Over the years they were served well by several 14- and 17-foot boats. But they eventually purchased the much roomier Ranger boat to make it easier for Curt to get in and out and easier to fish from. Curt has fought the disease with great determination. With incapacitating weakness in his legs, he kept hunting. He hunted on crutches following a knee injury and while wearing a cast after breaking his ankle. After his father died in 2004, Curt stopped hunting. It was too dangerous to fish by a creek when you could barely stand. As Curt required more assistance, Mary often shared a boat with her husband. “I love boats and being around water,” she said. She and Curt have enjoyed watching bald eagles soaring above, deer feeding on the banks, a bear swimming across Cowanesque Lake. When the fish weren’t biting, Mary would read one of her Christian romance novels, dangle her feet in the lake, or lie down on the seat and take a nap. She’s a pretty good fisherman to boot. While she slept and read books, she won side bets against Ron Hoyt and Skip Bastian by catching more and bigger fish. She whooped them. Fishing has always been a family affair. Curt’s mom, Pat, bakes her fantastic goodies for the boat. Every year on Pat’s birthday, Curt would spend the day with her on one of the local lakes to fish together and have a picnic on the boat. “When Curt was growing up, he played ball, rode his bicycle, went swimming in the summer, and did what all the other children did, though he did struggle some,” she said. “We dealt with...his difficulties with lots of prayers. I have always been very proud of him.” Pat shares her famous baked goods with the local people and businesses in Tioga. Husband Leigh was often her delivery person. In 2004 the delivery included the local hardware store. So Leigh eagerly jumped on his bicycle saying, “I’ll be back soon, Pattie.” He was crossing the road, near the centerline, when he was struck by a car. Leigh was called home to God. Leigh’s final journey was to the cemetery, atop a fire engine that passed under arches formed by ladder trucks from surrounding communities. Bagpipes played and he was honored with a 21-gun salute. I spoke at the service as Curt had to give up fishing for trout in Pine Creek, near the family camp in Blackwell, Pennsylvania, ten years ago. It wasn’t safe to fish by the creek when he could no longer stand. Now he doesn’t visit the cabin much anymore. “The camp is not the escape it used to be. I can’t fish in the creek or walk in the woods to hunt. And my father isn’t there. It’s just not the same.” When you’re driving by Cowanesque or Kueka lakes in the rain, Curt will be the one wearing a blue slicker, Mary a red one. “I will do everything to see that Curt gets to fish as long as he is able and as long as he wants,” Mary says. She loves it. When she needs time for herself, “I usually go to my room by myself to read, even if it’s just for a few minutes.” I don’t fish in the same boat with Curt anymore, but we enjoy being on the water together. I’m in the 17-foot aluminum basstracker. I was riding home with Leigh once, after we fished together in a tournament, when he talked about his son. “You know, that boy would fish every day if he had the chance. He’ll want to go out tomorrow, and I’ll have to go right home and get rested up. He’s a fiddlin’ fishing machine.” Curt is a true believer in the saying, “Time spent fishing is not deducted from one’s life.” Curt’s a man of few words, unless it’s about fishing. As he always says, “I’ll see you on the water.” Fred Metarko is an award-winning columnist for Mountain Home magazine. You can contact him at thelunker@mountainhomemag.com.
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buddies, with a car jack that his wife cranks with a ratchet and socket to raise Curt up high enough to fish. In the back seat will be Mary, his wife, casting with one eye on a lunker—trying to beat her husband and place in the tournament—and keeping a keen eye on Curt. 
brake. He resisted using a cane, then resisted a wheelchair, knowing he’d never again be able to rely on his own power. Now he gets around in a Permobil power wheelchair. 
truggle: “You can do it.” And he does. 
help around the house anymore. “He may not be able to do things physically,” she says, “however, he instructs me on how to do everything. He has taught me how to change lawnmower oil, blades, and belts, seal blacktop driveways, and even how to replace plumbing fixtures.”
the bass club’s representative. The club isn’t the same without Leigh, and Curt lost his father and his favorite fishing and hunting partner.
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