Maine fisherman who thrived on humor, service, and friendly argument dies of cancer

Andy Mays poses with a day's haul of scallops on his boat, Lost Airmen, on Jan. 15, 2015. (Jason Clark photo)

Andy Mays called me the afternoon of March 5, 2017, a few minutes after he found an abandoned car on the Penobscot Narrows Bridge.

He didn't call me first -- he saw a body in the water below and knew to report it immediately to the Marine Patrol -- but he called me soon after. He was driving back to MDI from the Fishermen's Forum, which had been held that weekend in Rockport, when he found the car pulled over by the railing and a note on the dashboard.

The older man who had decided to end his life wrote down his name and a contact number for his relatives, whom he asked to be notified. Andy called them, too, to offer whatever comforting information he could. I am not sure why he called me.

"He looks as calm as can be," Andy said, referring to the unconscious man floating face up in the water more than 100 feet below the bridge.

The moment got to him. For two years, Andy had been wrestling with his own mortality as he fought against colorectal cancer that had metastasized and was slowly eating away at his body and his strength.

"This is the last thing I need right now," he said, briefly choking back the emotion of having to bear witness for another person who also was in failing health and had decided he had enough.

Andy, who died Thursday from the disease at age 53, never quit. He embraced life and had a knack for getting involved in other people's lives, either on purpose or by accident. As long as he was physically able, he couldn't help but to try and help out, either as a group effort or directly with someone in need.

A married Catholic fisherman and father to three young sons, he was compelled to engage, participate and interact. A former member of the Coast Guard, Andy continued working part-time as a civilian for the station in Southwest Harbor while he fished for lobster and dove for scallops. He served on Maine Department of Marine Resources' Scallop Advisory Council. He took jobs as a commercial diver and volunteered to take part in scallop field research projects. He was a member of the Southwest Harbor Harbor Committee and a shellfish warden for the town.

He was not shy and, because of his varied roles in the fishing community, got quoted in newspapers from time to time.

Sometimes the news articles were about him. There were stories, both before and after his cancer diagnosis, about his work as a scallop diver. There were stories about him feuding with the Coast Guard and others about daring rescue attempts at sea. Stories about him 'assisting' men from Massachusetts hunt (or, according to state game wardens, poach) hares on Great Duck Island. And others about him receiving the first-ever DMR Excellence Award.

"I'm speechless," Andy told the Mount Desert Islander in March 2016, when he was surprised with the award at the Fishermen's Forum. "I think this is the first time I've ever been speechless."

For many who knew Andy, that claim was entirely credible. He knew a lot of people and made a point about sharing his opinions with most of them. If you asked his opinion, he'd give it to you in plain and direct language, often sprinkled with profanity, and if he wasn't sure how he ought to feel about something he'd think it over out loud and then tell you he didn't know.

When he was sure of something, he was particularly skilled at sharing that opinion on Facebook. He had a knack for getting reactions out of people, usually agreement from his fellow conservatives and spirited debate from his more liberal friends, but it came across more as entertainment than as scorn. The exchanges never included photos of the participants smiling and shaking their heads, but you could picture it all the same.

It helped that, on top of being earnest and forthright, Andy could be (and often was) funny as hell. Anyone who met him knew in about 15 minutes how sharp and self-deprecating his humor could be.

And on March 4, 2013, a whole lot of people found out just how funny he was. That is when the Colbert Report comedy TV show aired a sketch called "The Enemy Within," about a mishap the previous fall involving a misplaced bucket of scallop gonads on MDI.

True to form, Andy had been right in the middle of it. He had placed a bucket of scallop gonads he was donating to a UMaine research project in the wrong car, which the unsuspecting owner then drove away, prompting a call out to local police to find out where it went. Subsequent local newspaper articles based on the police inquiries got picked up by national news wires, which then drew the attention of the Comedy Central program.

Months later, when the Colbert Report film crew showed up to interview him and others, Andy went along with the joke, ad-libbing wisecracks and gulping down a raw gonad for the camera. His lines got the most laughs of anyone else who appeared in the segment (embedded below).

"If you crashed your car drunk and need someone to help you hide it and everything, I can do that on a minute's notice," Andy told the show's producer. Toward the end of the segment, he explained: "I was able to give Skylar [Bayer, pictured above] the balls, and I was able to take the meat and give it to my friends, and they gave me liquor."

After the episode aired, Andy said he thought it would be fun to to reprise his role in the mixup, even though he had never watched the Colbert Report. He told the BDN he didn't even own a television because he didn't have time for one.

"I was the class clown in high school, in the yearbook," Mays told the newspaper, adding that part of the fun was the reaction he got from friends and family when he told them he was going to be on the show. "I'm more amused by my friends' amusement and excitement about it."

Andy's willingness to poke fun at himself for a laugh was not unique, but not many people are willing to do it (and do it well) on national television.

Andy Mays hold up a scallop gonad for a Colbert Report camera crew (Comedy Central image)

I didn't know Andy that well, but I will miss talking to him, both for his humor and his insight. He knew a lot -- about fishing, electronics, the Coast Guard, the state ferry service (for which he frequently did diving work), etc. -- and often knew who was involved in what.

He was genuinely interested in everyone he met. He knew who meant well, who was struggling, and who the troublemakers were. I am grateful to have known him for a little while, and that he was willing to share some of his knowledge, observations, jokes and opinions with me.

And I am sad -- both for Andy's immediate and extended family and friends, and for the wider community that Andy was part of and did his best to help along. Coastal Maine undoubtedly will be a less interesting, vibrant, helpful and entertaining place without Andy Mays.

Andy Mays talks on his boat, Lost Airmen, in Southwest Harbor on March 7, 2017.