The Island lost a truly great soul with Janet Messineo. A legendary fisherperson, amazing artist and a uniquely kind person, Janet was a stalwart on the beaches and jetties of Martha’s Vineyard and she will be missed dearly.

I first met Janet when I was 10 years old, fishing for scup off of Memorial Wharf. I was dutifully hanging my squid on the bottom with the classic double bead size #2 baitholder scup rig, waiting for the telltale “tap tap tap”. This was a ritual I would perform every single day. My parents would drop me off in the morning with the ever-present Bob Darlington acting as supervisor of the dock and a litany of other characters standing by making sure that I didn’t fall in. I would usually return with a hodge podge of 12 to 15 inch trophies: sea robins, scup, the occasional sea bass. Every once in a while, the holy grail — a doormat fluke — would present itself.

This particular day, Janet saw me pull a 10-inch scup to the surface and drop it in my bucket. She came up to me with a 2/0 circle hook and said: “Do you know what this is for?”

I replied that it looked too big for a scup and she said: “This is the perfect size for a scup, you just need to hook it through the back!”

She then proceeded to cut off my scup rig and place it gingerly back in my tackle box, tie on the circle hook (taking extra time to make sure I understood the knot) and hook my scup just ahead of the dorsal fin. She then handed me the rod and said: “You are going to get less bites, but trust me it’s worth it.”

Unbeknownst to me at the time, Janet was teaching me the decades old Island tradition of using live scup for striped bass. I stood there that day waiting for a bite while she fished nearby, looking over her shoulder at me and occasionally asking if I was feeling lucky. This was the first time that we fished together but it would not be the last.

During the course of the next 20 years, I would see Janet all over the Island: the bowl, the lighthouse, the Vineyard Haven Jetty, always smiling and laughing. I watched her repeat the same routine with numerous Island kids that she had done with me decades earlier — always taking the time to teach new fishermen old tricks.

The best thing about Janet was her commitment to the fishing. She was uniquely generous with her time and with her knowledge, but above all else, she wanted it. She grinded. She would be on the beach every single day of the derby, right up until she couldn’t — casting and praying for that 15-pound albie or that 9-pound bonito. She didn’t have any airs of entitlement despite being a legend in the fishing community, she just stood with everyone else on the rocks and pounded. Cast after cast, day after day, she was out there. Just a fishing legend standing side-by-side with us in the rank and file.

I last saw Janet at the Agricultural Fair. I saw her at a table in her wheelchair and sat down next to her to give her the report and to let her know that we were all thinking of her. When I told her about the bonito feeds I had been seeing recently, her eyes lit up.

“Don’t worry, you can tell me. I’m not going anywhere” she said.

She asked me about the tides, the baits and the wind. She told me that she wished she could be out there but her body would not allow it. I told her I would catch one for her. She said: “They tell me I’m dying but I don’t feel like it. I don’t want anyone to feel bad for me, I want them to fish for me!”

With tears welling up in my eyes (I’m not too proud to admit it) I wished her well and got up from the table. When I turned around, I noticed there was a line of five other fisherman, all patiently waiting to say hello, give her their best and provide their report. It was a small but beautiful scene of disciples paying their tribute.

The last time I fished with Janet was in 2021. I walked out on the Vineyard Haven Jetty in 20 mph gusts and light rain and saw her there with a handful of other fishermen. She was on the tip, so I waved set up about five rocks down with my flyrod and started casting. About an hour later she came up to me and said: “I’m getting out of here, you should get to the tip, but come to my car before I leave.”

I went over to her beat-up beach cruiser and she rummaged through her glove box, pulling out empty hook packages and business cards. She emerged with a fly taped to a business card that had written on it: “Bonito Ed fly – good mojo!”

“Ed tied this fly,” she said, referring to Ed Lepore, also known as Bonito Ed. “He’d want someone like you to have it.”

I graciously accepted it and thanked her. She said: “You have to fish it, though.”

I told her I would, but to this day I haven’t. It sits on my desk — a reminder of two of the greatest fishermen to walk our beaches and grace us with their exuberance.

In her many books and articles, Janet would frequently reference “the Boogeyman” — a creeping feeling that came upon her when she fished the shores of the Vineyard alone at night. Anyone who has spent a long dark tide on the beach alone knows what she is talking about. It’s no secret that there are ghosts on this Island, and I look forward to my next nighttime tide. She rarely missed a good one when she was well enough to fish them before, and I doubt she ever will again.

Tony Frascotti grew up on Katama and lives in Boston.