COOK- After decades of fishing Lake Vermilion, Leo Wilenius finally had the monster muskie of his dreams on the line.
At least he was pretty sure he did. The fish stayed deep, resisting every effort to bring it to the surface as it pulled Wilenius and his boat about half a mile across the lake.
Wilenius texted his wife, grandson, and a friend who was also on the lake to report what was happening. His arms began to ache, but he was prepared to stay with the fish all day, or until dark if necessary.
“I’ve always dreamed of getting a big muskie, and this was it,” he said. “I did everything right. I was willing to wait. I didn’t horse it.”
And then?
“All of a sudden, 45 minutes later, boop, the line goes limp,” Wilenius said.
The body of his Rapala had separated from its plastic lip, leaving Wilenius with one very small piece of the lure and one enormous story about the fish he never saw.
“I had the biggest fish of my life I never caught,” he said.
Within days, Wilenius had written the story, finishing it on the same day he sat down to talk about his newly released fourth book, Shakespeare’s Bait and Tackle.
The timing was off by one book. A story about the monster muskie that got away would have fit neatly into “Shakespeare’s Bait and Tackle. Instead, it may become the first story in book five.
The new collection offers an assortment of short pieces about life, family, aging, marriage, community, nature, curiosity, and the occasional absurdity waiting to ambush an otherwise ordinary day.
Its eight sections range from “Life’s Little Moments” and “Home Grown Adventures” to “Youthful Bliss & Blunders” and “Fishing and Related Insane Activities.” Along the way, Wilenius wanders through the BWCA, recalls old snowmobiles and a little red Chevy, considers bucket lists, wrestles with online shopping, encounters a pet moose, and explores what happiness might look like when stripped of unnecessary complications.
The title fits the collection in more ways than one. The title story plays with Shakespearean language and fishing, while the book itself has some of the crowded variety of a bait and tackle shop. Wilenius still writes about North Country life and his own experiences, but branches farther into reflections on happiness, science, creativity, and how people make sense of their lives.
“It’s just a play with language is what it is, mixing it with a little bit of truth about fishing,” Wilenius said.
The book follows “She Won’t Mow the Daisies,’published in 2021, “The Cabin Experience” in 2022, and “Life Over Easy” in 2025.
Wilenius does not expect the latest volume to threaten anyone atop the best-seller lists. His first three books taught him something about both the size and composition of his literary following, and he still has boxes of his first book tucked away in a closet.
“The only people that I ever get comments from are little old ladies,” he said. “Maybe they’re the only ones that are loosened up enough,” he added, suggesting they have reached an age when they no longer care what anyone thinks. “That seems to be my fan base.”
Meanwhile, the longtime friends with whom he shares saunas and fishing stories rarely ask whether he has another book coming.
“I don’t know, nobody ever asks me about the book or comments,” Wilenius said. “But it’s a great crew and I don’t feel stiffed.”
The road to writing
That Wilenius became an author at all still seems to surprise him.
He grew up in Sturgeon Township and attended Alango School for six years before becoming what he calls a “Cookite.” His childhood home was on a dead-end road, with no other children nearby and elderly neighbors living a half-mile or more away.
“Grew up on a dead-end road. That’s my tagline,” he said. “I’ve overused it, but I kind of like it, ’cause it explains a lot of things.”
His sister was four years older and often occupied with homework, leaving Wilenius to entertain himself.
“I was out there by myself doing things, noticing things,” he said. “I like to think I have some skill of being a person in the room who notices what’s going on, or the undercurrent or overcurrent or whatever.”
His parents encouraged his curiosity. His father, who taught shop, agriculture, forestry, welding, and woodworking at Alango and later in Cook, was an avid reader. Their home received newspapers and magazines covering farming, science, mechanics, history, and the outdoors.
Wilenius began writing by seventh or eighth grade, even when nothing had been assigned. He saved poems, essays, and other small pieces, just as he collected rocks, marbles, baseball cards, comic books, and issues of Mad magazine.
The comics and magazines met an unfortunate end when a 14-year-old Wilenius insisted that his mother take them to the dump, a decision he does not remember making and has had plenty of time to regret.
His influences since then have become an eclectic bunch, ranging from Ernest Hemingway and James Michener to Mad, outdoor humorist Patrick McManus, and Bill Bryson.
“I have a lot of interests, too many,” Wilenius said. “Most of my stuff is just, well, real life is interesting enough. People are interesting.”
Wilenius once assumed he would become a teacher, following several family members into the profession. Instead, he attended electrical lineman school in Wadena and went to work for Northern Electric Cooperative, which later became Lake Country Power.
He liked working outdoors and the challenge of climbing a 50-foot pole in the middle of the night but eventually found the work too methodical. He moved into member services and communications, where he began producing newsletters and speaking to groups about electrical safety, energy conservation, and other subjects.
One coworker told him he should write a book. Wilenius tucked the thought away.
He retired at the beginning of 2014 and attempted two longer writing projects, but neither went anywhere. In 2016, he finally submitted a short article to the Cook News Herald.
“Overcoming self-doubt just seemed like such a mountain to climb,” he said. “Then it just kind of took off. You get a little comment here and there.”
When one of his early columns appeared on a different page than usual, a reader told Wilenius she had purchased the newspaper specifically to read his work and thought he had skipped that week.
“That felt really good,” Wilenius said. “That was super sauce.”
After two or three years of regular columns, he began sorting them into groups, discarding some and organizing others around childhood, adventures, and broader reflections.
“There wasn’t one epiphany,” he said. “It was a little collection of gaining steam and overcoming self-doubt. You know, a book with my name on it? It’s just like, if I mess this up, well, self-doubt and me get along real well.”
The result was She Won’t Mow the Daisies. Wilenius approached several publishers, received polite rejections, and ultimately chose to publish the book himself.
He also chose to keep the enterprise close to home, distributing his books through galleries, boutiques, and other local shops.
“I’ve enjoyed being small town,” he said. “I like the books in people’s hands, talking about people I know. I like that warmth.”
Copies of “Shakespeare’s Bait and Tackle” are available at NWFA Gallery, Northern Comfort Company, and Zup’s in Cook; Ubetcha Gifts in Tower; Piragis in Ely; and Irma’s Finland House and Canelakes in Virginia.
Finding more to say
Venturing beyond familiar material with “Shakespeare’s Bait and Tackle” also gave Wilenius’ self-doubt fresh material to work with.
“This one is just a little bit more independent, crawling away from all the comfortable information that I had before,” he said.
Before proceeding with the book, Wilenius sought reactions from several people whose judgment he trusted.
“I guess I needed to hear somebody say it was okay,” he said. “It still makes me feel like a little boy on the end of a dead-end road.”
He has learned to work with that uncertainty rather than wait for it to disappear. An idea may begin while he is looking at an old lawnmower, remembering the spark plugs he changed as a boy, or wondering why some ordinary object or human habit works the way it does.
Sometimes he finishes a piece in half an hour. More often, he works for three or four days, writing a rough draft and then “picking at it and picking at it.”
“I think somebody could relate to it,” he said. “Even if it’s a small little group of society that relates to it, I’d rather hit something hard with a few.”
Wilenius also likes the thought that his books may outlast their immediate audience. Great-great-grandchildren who someday know him only through a photograph might find something more of him, and of North Country life, in the stories he left behind.
“Anything that I put down, I can’t destroy it,” he said. “So I like recording history, or at least some thoughts.”
Asked whether the musky story and all the other thoughts still gathering in his mind will eventually produce another book, Wilenius initially reached for the safe answer.
“Never say never,” he said.
Then he smiled and reconsidered.
“If I’m gonna be honest with myself, I’d have to say probably.”