Denny Conradt on the left and Denny's neighbor and fishing buddy, Jimmy Pluger, in 1959. “My dad was in Canada at this time,” said Conradt. “We caught more fish in the Wolf River then what he got in Canada!”
A man who may have crossed paths with Denny Conradt somewhere, some spring up on the Wolf River, Dan Foltz, 76, of Oshkosh, often was doing a different kind of fishing.
As a DNR fisheries biologist, he was netting and cattle-eartagging sturgeon. The goal was to log and research the life cycles of sturgeon, walleye and other fish to better manage their habitats and harvests.
“The public is much better informed now. We still try to educate the public as much as we can,” Foltz said. Though semi-retired, the “we” he still speaks of is the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, where was employed for nearly 35 years.
Yes, on this side of the law, too, much has changed. Just west of Shiocton, what was once the simple Bamboo Bend lock, is now one of the most popular and well-constructed viewing sites for the sturgeon spawn. Foltz, who helps with spring tagging, said, “We get a lot of questions while we’re working. From the kids, too—and now they’re often educating the adults about our natural resources…they know our guys and that we’re honest, and not trying to do a snow job.”
He added, “Everyone is much more aware now. [Fisheries Team Supervisor Dr.] Ron Bruch and others have done a tremendous job of keeping the public informed. Now the public knows what’s going on, and they know our guys and that we’re honest, and not trying to do a snow job.”
In he early days of Foltz’s career, he was the man who did the actual tagging, mostly because of the generous size of his hands. “We never had the manpower to do what we wanted to do,” he said. “Sometimes there’d be four, five, six of us, working 24-hour days, sometimes 36, during the spawn. When they’re there, you got to go get ’em.”
Many DNR personnel now spend much of their time at citizens’ advisory or educational meetings and events, where they seek not only to inform the public, but to get the people and organizations actively involved.
Noting a 50-year anniversary since he started with the DN R, Flotz, added, “Poachingisnotnearlyasprevalentas it was. It used to be the general attitude that it was more accepted. There was a good market for selling [game] fish — there was money to be made.”
Foltz has researched the life history of sturgeon, walleye and fresh water drum and has conducted other studies. He’s done much to help formulate the regulations that now help preserve wildlife and the recreation it supports through effective science-based management. And every time a new variable is tweaked to help, or an old one modified through regulations, more studies must determine its long-range effectiveness.
It’s the nature of things in Wolf River Country, where a poacher can grow to be a noted and generous conservation advocate, and scientists can’t stop helping our world be even better. — Lynn Kuhns
There was a time when poaching and otherwise violating the rules of hunting and fishing was more common — even accepted among families and friends.
Dennis “Denny” Conradt of Shiocton turned 70 years old this year, and he and his wife, Peggy, celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary in June.
A few years before, Conradt had been named Citizen of the Year by the Business League of Shiocton. But in the view of some Department of Natural Resources (DNR ) officials years back, Conradt wasn’t always such a good guy.
“I guess I wasn’t any different from any young, red-blooded American boy who grew up in Shiocton. This town had a reputation for poaching and violating,” he said.
“I guess I wasn’t any different from any young, red-blooded American boy who grew up in Shiocton,” said Conradt, a Shiocton High School class of ‘58 graduate. “Years ago, this town had quite a serious reputation for poaching and violating.”
“Back then, for your grandfather and father, violating was a way life—not to sell to make money, but to feed their families. As it got handed down, sometimes, it got a little bit out of hand.”
In the mid-1950s and early 1960s, that reputation was enhanced by a group of about 12 to 15 friends of Conradt, all lads in their mid-20s and 30s who were ready, willing and able to break the regulations.
“Way back then, one way of getting walleyes was to put out fish traps. I know people who would use a dipping net because when the females were just about ready to spawn, some folks would pull a ‘spawner’ behind a boat so the males would follow, and then they could net them,” Conradt said.
“We just felt like we were invincible,” he said. “It was just for the fun of getting away with it.”
More than once, his mother warned him, ‘”Denny, you are quite the violator, and you’re going to get caught some day.” She turned out to be right.
Conradt’s father, a renowned and respected state assemblyman, county board supervisor and state highway commissioner under his friend, Tommy Thompson, also was concerned.
But it took a lot of chicanery — some would say entrapment — to finally “catch” Conradt. In 1962, “John,” an undercover DNR agent who worked for the Madison office, began coming to Shiocton quite regularly. Posing as jewelry salesman from Berlin, he’d always visit Denny’s Bar and Restaurant on Main Street in Shiocton.
Conradt explained, “John would come in, and he’d really make himself available. He got to know everyone, and I got where I thought of him as a friend — I would have done anything for him.”
According to Conradt, “Every time John left my place, he’d leave a $20 bill on the bar, and tell me to give ‘everyone a drink, and that I should keep the change.’ In the 60s, that was quite a bit of money.”
That money, it turns out, was bait—sure as Conradt and his buddies baited fish traps and shot fox from up in airplanes to collect the bounties.
Conradt said, “John told me he wanted some walleye for a meal. He knows I love to fish. I had five in my tank and sent those along with him on ice. I was going to give him those, and then when he laid a $20 on the bar like he always did, I told him, ‘You don’t owe me nothin’ for that, but he insisted that it was minnow money, and left.”
Months passed. “Then on opening day of deer hunting, we were busy in the bar. John came in and asked me if I could get him a nice big buck—that his family loved venison but he didn’t have the time to hunt. When I said I couldn’t, well, he read me the riot act and called me some pretty nasty names.”
Then the phone rang. A woman was on the line that Conradt knew. “She asked if I knew of anyone in the bar who might be interested in a nice 12-point buck. I asked how much she wanted, and she told me. I told John.”
He added, “You see, I was falling for it— hook, line and sinker. I…took John out to see the buck. He offered to buy some beer, to celebrate allowing the way. That’s illegal, too.”
At the woman’s home, John tried to give Conradt the money and have him pay. “I told him it’s his deer—he should go pay for it. I did not touch that buck.”
But Conradt later received three summonses—two for selling the walleye and one for offering to sell the venison. Each charge carried a $125 fine and 10 days in jail.
In spite of his attorney’s plea of entrapment, the judge found Conradt guilty on the first charge. The district attorney offered him a chance to plead guilty, pay the $375 total fines and only served 10 of the 30 days. Conradt took the deal, much to his father’s disappointment.
While Conradt had run with a gang with a reputation, he noted, “I never did shoot a deer just to see it die. I never went out and tried to catch 100 walleye. Most of the stuff we did was small-time stuff. I think because I had the tavern, they figured I was a ringleader.”
Conradt worked in Hurley at the time, and he only served a few days of his sentence under the Hubert Law, and the aid of a sympathetic sheriff.
Just decades ago, men like Conradt — and even law-abiding citizens — sometimes were confronted by a very different kind of DNR personnel from today’s wardens. According to Conradt, one game warden who had worked the area was considered by some to be mentally unfit; and some men had to restrained from violence against him.
Times Have Changed
Today, the Conradts have four sons and two daughters. “As far as I know, not one of our children have ever violated,” Conradt admitted.
Conradt also has changed his ways, to become a champion of support for conservation. While it was once known as the home of poachers, the village of Shiocton is now known as the place “where nature begins.”
Conradt is one of the founders and currently the president of Shadows on the Wolf, an organization dedicated to supporting the area’s natural environment and the improvement of it through the presentation of conservation-type scholarships, boat landings and other improvements, habitat work, highway cleanup and more. The group’s main focus is to educate area youth about wildlife and the importance of maintaining a healthy habitat.
To date, Shadows on the Wolf banquets have netted about $685,000 for a variety of programs that benefit the Wolf River Country region. Conradt said he also supports seven other local fund-raising banquets.
Retired six years from supervising asphalt road construction, Conradt still enjoys fishing for walleye, particularly the challenge of finding the right bait for the river’s ever-changing temperatures and levels.
He also finds time to construct picture frames of barn wood, travel in the Southwest U. S. with his wife, tend to his flowerbeds and stay active in his community.
Maybe it’s not quite the same excitement as the good old days, but it’s very good for Conradt, his family, the outdoors and the future of our Wolf River country.