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Editor's note: Amid the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, an act of heroism went largely unnoticed. Four men on a Coast Guard helicopter from Clearwater flew straight into the hurricane, hoping to rescue the crew of a fishing boat. In a series of six short installments starting today, the Times tells the story of the fishing boat Mary Lynn, its crew of three, and the Coast Guardsmen determined to save them.
Friday, Aug. 19, in Key West: A honky-tonk piano man and a trumpeter played at the Hog's Breath Saloon. Tourists gathered in Mallory Square to watch the sunset. A bluesman named James "Jimbo" Malthus played into the night at the Green Parrot Bar.
But for the three-member crew of the Mary Lynn, a 41-foot commercial fishing boat, Key West was no playground that day. To them it was just a pit stop, smack in the middle of a month of fishing.
"We were going in to do a turn-and-burn into Key West and back out," said Mark Gutek, the Mary Lynn's captain.
They had fished for two weeks straight since leaving their home port of Madeira Beach in Pinellas County, and had come in to the Keys to sell their catch, 3,100 pounds of grouper. But 800 pounds had gone bad before they got to the Keys and they didn't have much money to show for their labors.
Now they had loaded up on bait, tackle, fuel and ice. They left the dock and headed back to the sea for two more weeks of fishing.
Gutek, 36, was a fisherman, pure and simple. He grew up in Portland, Maine, picking up fishing lore from older hands. "I was a dock rat."
In Florida, Gutek lived more at sea than on land. Like his two mates, Anita Miller and Charles White, he didn't even have an apartment. He lived on whatever boat he happened to be working on, and crashed wherever he could when he came to shore.
Gutek had the sinewy frame of the high school wrestler he once was, but his long braid of brown hair and his goatee gave him the nickname "Hippie." Life had tossed this hippie around. He had done stints in drug rehab and prison. Pointing to his muscular arms and shoulders, he could show you a tattoo of a hammerhead shark, or one of a dragon, or the scar he got on his right hand stopping a knife during a barroom fight.
Gutek steered the Mary Lynn out of the Keys and headed west toward the Dry Tortugas Islands.
Fishing is always a gamble. For the hands who work the commercial boats called longliners, the crap shoot works like this: They sail to a good spot and unfurl 5 or 10 miles of pencil-thick fishing line, laced with thousands of fishhooks and chunks of bait.
With any luck, the crew hauls in a few thousand pounds of grouper in a couple of weeks and sells it. After paying expenses, they divide the profit among themselves and the boat owner. On Anita Miller's first trip 18 years ago she pocketed $3,100 in 31 days - outstanding for a greenhorn - and got hooked on the business.
But some times, the dice roll the other way. Fish don't bite, weather ruins the trip. Fishermen are self-employed, a polite way of saying they can spend two weeks at sea for no money.
"Sometimes you eat the bear," Gutek would say. "Sometimes the bear eats you."
After leaving the Keys, the gambling was good for the crew of the Mary Lynn. Before long they had caught 3,000 pounds of grouper. They could catch another 2,500 pounds before reaching their limit.
Gutek was especially hoping for a great catch. He and Miller weren't just fishing partners; they were a couple. Lately, he had started to wish for a home on land, some place where he could moor himself to the ground and build more of a life with Miller. He wanted to get a driver's license, something he had not had since his was suspended in 1999, and buy a car.
Another ton of grouper would be a big help.
***
Five days after the Mary Lynn left Key West, a tropical depression over the Bahamas intensified into Tropical Storm Katrina. On Thursday, Aug. 25, Gutek listened on his radio to weather reports saying the storm would turn into a hurricane, hit southeast Florida, cross the state, and veer north up the Gulf of Mexico.
Many captains of west Florida's commercial commercial fishing fleet sized up the situation and decided to head for shore.
Not Gutek. He figured it like this: They were about 40 miles off the Dry Tortugas, far west of the Keys. Katrina's long bands would give them rough water, but the storm should pass by to the north.
For her part, Miller didn't want to return home, either, not with a small catch.
"There was no way we were going to run into port with 3,000 pounds and have a sh---- trip again," she said. "That's not what we were looking for. We wanted that money in our pocket."
Gutek went to sleep.
He woke up early Friday.
"Next thing I know, man, boom."
The waves were as tall as the Mary Lynn, the sky an eerie gray.
Gutek tried tuning in weather broadcasts, but couldn't pick anything up.
He didn't know the storm had turned southwest instead of veering north.
Hurricane Katrina was coming right at them.
MONDAY: A big wave hits the Mary Lynn.