Forrest L. Wood
"The Ranger Man" was legendary in the country for his business acumen, but also his style of
business. He truly cared about his customers and the people he worked with.
In the ’90s, I put together a name-
sake fishing tournament for kids on
Lake Seminole, down in Florida. I
called Forrest one day and asked him
if I could buy a boat at a discounted
price to give away as first place for
that tournament. He asked me what
the tournament was about.
“Panama City Christian School
doesn’t have any funds to grow their
fishing program, and they asked me
to help them,” I said.
He asked me how many people
were in the tournament and where
the proceeds were going, and then
asked where I wanted the boat
shipped. He never gave me a price,
because there wasn’t one. For the
next seven years, I got a note asking
when we wanted the boat delivered.
On one occasion, Forrest, his wife,
Nina, and I were floating the White
River. It was a tough morning, and for
several hours none of us had gotten a
bite. About midday, Forrest and Nina
asked to pull over and have a picnic
on the shore. Now, I’d learned in my
life not to pull up on someone’s bank
unless you know it’s OK, so I asked
Forrest if he was sure. He looked at
me, pointed at a seemingly random
spot on the shore, and said, “That
place will do fine. It’s ours.”
About that time, Nina had a bite.
Then Forrest had a bite. Then Nina
caught another one. Then I had a
bite, and before we could ever get to
our lunch spot, we were hauling in
fish after fish. I bet an hour passed
before the bite died down and I ever
thought about lunch again.
When I realized I’d forgotten
about the two hungry passengers on
the boat, I started apologizing pro-
fusely to Forrest and Nina.
“Forrest,” I said, “I am so sorry. I
forgot about that picnic. I don’t know
when we’ll find another spot.”
The river was flowing fast that day
– probably around 11 or 12 mph –
and we’d long ago blown by the plot
of land where he’d told me to pull
out. It would have been difficult to
cover several miles back upriver to
the spot. However, to my genuine
surprise, Forrest just pointed at
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another spot and said, “That’s all
right. Just pull up right there. This is
still mine.”
I don’t think Forrest was buying
land for himself. In fact, I have always
guessed that Forrest bought land that
he didn’t really want and didn’t really
need so other people could use it. I
don’t know that to be true, but I have
heard secondhand that it is.
When I think about Forrest, I
think a lot about the other people
he’s helped over the years. I think
about myself and the tremendous
amount of encouragement and assis-
tance he gave me during a pivotal
point in my career. I think about the
kids fishing tournament down on
Lake Seminole. I think about a time
when The Bass Federation was in
turmoil, divided between B.A.S.S.
and FLW. Forrest never chose a side
in that debate. He wrote a letter to
the Federation saying he’d stick
beside them in whatever they chose
to do. He did that because he
believed in their youth and state pro-
grams; believed in growing the sport.
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