Fly angler Bill Young never released a friend

During his courageous and often whimsical battle against cancer, Bill Young threw himself a wake.

The Canandaigua sportsman, raconteur, community leader and all-around good guy wanted to see his family and friends and hear the “eulogies" while there was still air in his lungs and a twinkle in his eye.

The wake/party at his home lasted two days while Bill Young literally laughed at death. And showed 150 guests how to live.

As his name would suggest, “Youngie" had too much kid-like mischievousness to ever be labeled an “old-timer." Instead his playful moniker was “Big Timer," which he changed to “Short Timer" in deference to his health and his determination to keep living each day with great vigor.

He succeeded.

Last Saturday at Bristol Harbor Lodge, one of his favorite haunts overlooking his beloved Canandaigua Lake, Bill Young’s family and friends gathered for another wake/celebration of life. Sadly, it was the real one this time. Bill Young died last month at age 81. He was in his own bed, free of pain, surrounded by loved ones and drinking Champagne. How good is that?

Remember Harvey Wallbanger? Man who made drink a hit dies

To know Bill Young was to know generosity, kindness, a good story, a good time and a good belly laugh. He lived the Golden Rule — and boy, did he live. With no regrets.

You know the Dos Equis beer commercial? The most interesting man in the world? Well, William J. Young III made that guy look like Ward Cleaver. You want interesting?

•  A New Jersey native, Youngie was a star running back at the University of Pennsylvania when Ivy League football was big. He once rushed for 158 yards on 10 carries in a victory over Yale at Franklin Field in 1957, with a photo of “The Pennsylvania Express" making Sports Illustrated and The New York Times. He remained true to his school, sponsoring Penn athletes and being named Man of the Year for both the football and wrestling teams.
•  He was a U.S. Marine officer serving between the Korean and Vietnam wars. “Never saw a bullet," he once said, an early sign that good timing would always be on his side.
• A gifted writer, photographer and artist, Bill oversaw the world's largest photo contest for Kodak. Then he founded his own advertising firm, where he was the marketing genius behind the Harvey Wallbanger drink, a basic screwdriver that when hit with a splash of the Italian liquor Galliano became a 1970s pop culture phenomenon. The golden liquid became his golden goose.
• He was a world-class salmon and trout fisherman on a fly rod and fished the world’s most famous rivers: Norway’s Alta, Russia’s Ponoi, Ireland’s Erriff, Iceland’s Laxa i Adaldal, Scotland’s Tweed, Quebec’s Restigouche. He fished with the Knox Brothers, who founded the Buffalo Sabres. He belonged to a fishing club with Jimmy Carter. He made the cover of an Orvis catalog.
• He was a passionate conservationist, hooking fellow anglers on the catch-and-release ethos, and was a tireless fundraiser for the Atlantic Salmon Federation. He had a fly named for him. The colorful Bill Young Fly came to his dearest Icelandic guide Petur Steingrimsson in a dream and is coveted around the world.
• He was a wine connoisseur whose 600-case cellar was among the finest private collections in North America and featured in Wine Spectator magazine. “Even Danny Wegman, when he comes over, asks to see the wine cellar and he owns Century Liquor," Youngie said with glee.
• He put the “E" in eclectic with a wardrobe his family said was a mix of Elvis and Liberace with toys that included classic wooden boats and a World War II-era Russian Ural motorcycle with sidecar that he’d drive around town, turning heads.

For good measure, Youngie was also a magician who entertained his 17 grandchildren from two marriages as well as the customers at the Canandaigua Wegmans, a cruciverbalist (someone skilled at crossword puzzles), a gourmet chef, an ornithologist, a fossil hunter (he taught me about trilobites as we sat on his beach one day), a jewelry maker and a gardener. The 14-acre lakeside retreat with trout pond that he shared with his wife Dr. Wende Logan Young was a nature lover’s paradise, playground and palette for Bill’s creative side. He and Wende spent their Januarys in Paris.

But beyond all of these blessings and talents, Bill Young considered raising and nurturing his large, loving family through life’s ups and downs his greatest achievement.

“Fatherhood continues to be the most important single thing in my life," he wrote to his children, Karin, Betsy, Will and Ollie six years ago as he waited results of a biopsy.

On a chilly, gray and misty day in the Bristol Hills that look so much like the lochs of his mother’s ancestral Scotland, Bill Young was given a fitting sendoff through words, song and poetry.

His tweed fishing cap, adorned with flies and pins from his world travels, rested on a table next to the vintage Harvey Wallbanger posters. His “Youngie 33" Penn football jersey hung nearby. “Love notes’’ written by his family were taped to the walls of the lodge’s grand rustic ballroom.

His grandchildren wore Popop’s old bow ties. Guests wore Bill Young Fly brooches. The Penn fight song was sung. Taps were played during military honors. And then bagpipes.

Bill Young liked a good laugh, and a good cry, so people did both. Sharing stories afterwards

“He would have loved to have been here, no question, his kind of party," Will Young said. “He was my hero, my mentor, my best friend and my dad."

During his uplifting farewell to his dad, Will Young gave a sampling of “Youngieisms" bestowed on him and his siblings to live by: “Always release your fish. Never sniff the cork. Always bring something special to the host. Never validate an argument with an argument. Always say thank you. Never interrupt a magician. Always cheer for Penn; never cheer for Cornell. Always tell the truth; never let the truth get in the way of a good story.’’

Truth be told, Bill Young’s best magic trick was making others feel special, his best hook set making friends wherever he went. "Big Timer'' never big timed anybody and it was easy to see why everyone joked they were Bill’s “best friend." Because he made everyone feel that way. Through pep talks, inspirational notes, phone calls and long e-mail trains that brought smiles to people on several continents. Catch-and-release didn’t apply to Youngie’s friendships as he ended each correspondence with “Your bud for life."

“In reality everyone was Bill’s best friend and what a great concept: love, affection and graciousness for all,’’ said neighbor John Ingle, owner of Heron Hill Winery.

Writing in the Yale Anglers' Journal, Bill once described his battle with the biggest Atlantic salmon he ever brought to net, a 45-pounder on the Alta in 1991.

“(It) pulled me nearly a mile down river through white water rapids — with me kneeling in our lapstraked canoe, hoping that my tippet wouldn't find a rough boulder and break off. It was unforgettable.''

As was Bill Young.

As we filed out, I was picturing Youngie climbing aboard his Russian motorcycle. The sidecar is packed with his fly rods and a couple bottles of his finest French reds. His English bulldogs Bonita and Boner are with him, their tails wagging. He drives away, disappearing into the fog, laughing all the way.

May the fish always rise to a Bill Young Fly.