Capt. Eddie Brown’s favorite harpoon now rests somewhere on the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
In mid-January, Brown departed Cypress Cove Marina under near-perfect conditions. With light chop and crystal-clear skies, visibility was exceptional after running roughly 30 miles down the Mississippi River and 12 miles offshore into the Gulf. On days like that, Brown said, the fish practically give themselves away.
“It’s hard to miss when you see giant tunas busting on the surface,” Brown said. “You see the explosions from a pretty good distance away, and the birds and everything going on.”
A Fast Start Turns Into a Heavyweight Bout
The day began with two blackfin tuna in the box, followed by a 165-pound yellowfin that had the crew buzzing. On board was Jeff Tomaloff of Vero Beach, Florida, who jumped at the chance to fish Venice after Brown mentioned an open date.
“After years of seeing that stuff happen on YouTube and Facebook and seeing the blowups and all the chaos, I was like, ‘Uh, I got to experience that at some point,’” Tomaloff said.
For an angler accustomed to 110-mile runs for tuna topping out around 60 pounds, a 165-pounder was already a thrill. Then came a 207-pound yellowfin that Brown described as “a real demon.” The fight lasted 45 minutes to an hour. The fish refused to cooperate boatside, and after struggling to secure a clean gaff shot, Brown opted to harpoon it.
In the chaos, he improvised—attaching the harpoon line to a 50-wide reel when he couldn’t find the basket. As the crew shouted that he had a shot, Brown struck. The fish went berserk, charging the boat. The harpoon detached and vanished into the depths, but the crew ultimately subdued and iced the 207-pounder.
“I was crestfallen over the loss of my favorite harpoon,” Brown admitted, “but thrilled to have such a big tuna on board.”
The Fish That Changed Everything
While icing the 207, Brown spotted another school erupting on the surface. He motored into casting range as Tomaloff and another client moved to the bow. Both hooked up quickly.
Tomaloff cast a clear Madd Mantis popper. On the third or fourth chug—boom. A massive explosion and a powerful run.
A GoPro 360 mounted on Brown’s tower later showed Tomaloff fought the fish for just 14 minutes—far less dramatic than the earlier slugfest. Once on deck, Brown immediately noticed the popper’s treble hooks had pinned the fish’s mouth shut, limiting oxygen during the fight.
Then he really looked at it.
“I’m looking at it, and I’m like, ‘That thing’s got to be every bit of 70 inches,’” Brown said. “After a couple minutes, I told my deckhand, ‘The record’s 251. That thing’s got to be close to 260.’”
They were right. The fish measured 71 inches with a staggering 54-inch girth and tipped certified scales at 256 pounds—surpassing the existing Louisiana state record of 251 pounds set by Elliot Sale in 2012 out of Grand Isle, according to the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries (LDWF).
Once approved by LDWF’s record verification process, Tomaloff’s catch will stand as the new Louisiana state-record yellowfin tuna (Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries).
“That thing was a Butterball, man,” Brown said.
Why the Missing Harpoon Mattered
Here’s the twist: had Brown harpooned the record fish, it would not have qualified. LDWF rules require rod-and-reel capture without the use of a harpoon to remain eligible for state record consideration (Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries).
“We later found out, if we had harpooned it, it wouldn’t qualify for the state record,” Brown said.
In other words, the harpoon sitting on the Gulf floor preserved the integrity of the catch—and the record.
Venice Delivers Again
Venice has long been recognized as one of the premier yellowfin tuna fisheries in the United States due to its proximity to deep water and nutrient-rich currents at the Mississippi River’s mouth. Charter captains routinely encounter giant fish within relatively short runs compared to other Gulf ports.
For Tomaloff, the trip was everything he’d hoped for—and then some.
For Brown, the loss of a favorite tool is a small price to pay for history.
Somewhere below, a harpoon lies in the Gulf. On land, a new Louisiana state-record yellowfin stands as proof that sometimes, losing gear is the best thing that can happen.
Sources: Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries state record program guidelines; Capt. Eddie Brown and Fish Venice Charters account of events; official Louisiana state record data confirming prior 251-pound yellowfin (2012).