Halibut

Homer, Alaska, is called the halibut capital of the world, so it's fitting the winner of its annual fundraiser was a 352.6-pound whopper. Don Hanks of Sparks, Nev., nabbed a $51,298 check on Friday after besting the catches of more than 18,000 participants in the Chamber Of Commerce's halibut derby. Caught June 29, the greenish-gray halibut is so huge that, like other monster fish, it had to be shot before being hauled into the boat. The runner-up was svelte by comparison, at 334.

Since my father first took me fishing--in 1955 when I was 5 years old--rockfish have always been a sure thing in and around the Santa Monica Bay. The swifter and splashier bonito would pass by for only a few months in the summer and then--as the bay became more polluted--just stopped coming around at all. Likewise with the fierce and toothy barracudas. And significant "bites" by the mighty yellowtail became infrequent enough to fall into the category of near-legend. But throughout my youth and adolescence, just about any time of the year I could board the Betty O or the orange-painted Kiora or the diesel-belching Indiana sport fishing boats at a local pier and, after a short run out of the bay, find the lumpy, lumbering rockfish to be plentiful and hungry.

Police say they know who put the hook on Big Mama. That's the fishy South Bay mystery that officers solved Wednesday after the beloved 50-pound halibut--who contributed millions of eggs to boost halibut populations statewide--was stolen from her hatchery tank, along with 19 other fish. Police say a man whose name was not immediately released was picked up at his home in Hermosa Beach on Wednesday after officers were told that he had tried to sell the late Big Mama to fish wholesalers.

Big Mama's suspected abductors are expected to face justice this morning. Her admirers are mourning her as if she were dead. But the mystery of her whereabouts lingers. Was she purchased by an innocent restaurateur and is she even now lying in marinade, destined to be a dinner special? Or did deals go bad and was she dumped somewhere, her magnificent, 50-pound body already en route to a landfill? Police don't know. But Police Lt.

Though most of the victim was barbecued and eaten at a party, district attorneys won a confession from the man who stole the beloved 50-pound halibut Big Mama from her hatchery tank in Redondo Beach last month. Taras Poznik, 24, was sentenced to six months in jail and six months in an alcohol treatment facility for the theft of Big Mama and 19 other fish, a crime that his lawyer said he committed in a drunken stupor. "He was as drunk as a skunk.

It hasn't been a good year for the state's only halibut hatchery, located a block from the ocean in Redondo Beach. First, Big Mama, its celebrity 50-pound halibut, was snatched from her tank and barbecued at a private party in March. Then its funding ran out. Now, the private, nonprofit hatchery, which for 15 years has produced halibut for researchers and to restock Santa Monica Bay, is on the verge of collapse.

The sun hangs high over beautiful Sitka Sound, despite the late hour. Bald eagles soar overhead. A lone trawler plods north across the channel. And Big Halibut Don, relaxing on the deck of Kingfisher Lodge, is getting an earful of big-halibut lore from a couple of newly arrived guests, all fired up about their prospects. One says he heard of a man who, long ago, set out on a fishing trip alone in a small skiff. The man failed to return, and a search was launched.

Other surfers often snicker when Mike West paddles his surfboard out into the lineup at Trestles or San Onofre wearing a fanny pack and toting a rod and reel. But their laughs turn to amazement when they see West's rod bending in half and his surfboard spinning as he reels in a 40-pound halibut, as he did recently at San Onofre State Beach. "I usually get a shout, a yahoo! or something like that," said West, 45, of San Clemente, a veteran surfer and former lifeguard.

Somewhere in the Santa Monica Bay, buried in sand to its eyes, is a small halibut with a sore mouth and a little yellow tag in its side. That is the latest flatfish to flounder into the big, leathery hands of Dave Faxon. The bay is full of them. And somewhere out in the bay, trolling slowly along on his floating home, is Faxon, trying to get his hooks into another. For 21 years, the retired plumber has lived on his 33-foot trawler, \o7 El Pescador\f7 , in Marina del Rey.

As he stood on the dock at Fisherman's Village in Marina del Rey, 19-year-old Damon Armelin's sardine-baited line suddenly went taut, pulling his rod into an arc. "Fish are ON! Fish are ON!" he cried. In seconds, a member of the species \o7 Paralichthys californicus \f7 flipped out of the water before him. Quickly, the California halibut was thrown, gasping, onto a measuring table: 17 3/4 inches. With the limit set at five a day of 22 inches and larger, this one was too small to keep.