Not often does hearing a Mike + The Mechanics song remind you of a turmoil-ridden sports-related incident in our neck of the woods.

I was listening to a new compilation album of Genesis songs and related solo projects – Mike + The Mechanics being one of them – and along came “The Living Years.” If you are of a certain age and residency in the Chippewa Valley, that tune may trigger emotions like the lyrical focus of the generational father-son gap, or memories of late-’80s pop music. Or, it may serve as your soundtrack to the spearfishing battles of 1989.

To me, not having an investment in either side, the antagonism made me uncomfortable – especially when the protests took on hues of racism and violence.

Fishing is recreational, and also a sport; a relatively non-controversial sport, yet a difference in the approach to fishing precipitated great controversy around the lakes of the northwoods. In a nutshell: Native Americans conduct a season of what is known as “spearfishing” – just what you would think, fishing using spears instead of rods and reels, using a traditional approach that dates back millennia. As the United States government spread into what is now Wisconsin, treaties were signed and, in the process, Native Americans were given the right to continue their spearfishing practice on reservations.

In recent decades, a difference of opinion grew as to where spearfishing was allowable – in particular, if the practice could spread off-reservation. The case went before the courts, and Native American bands were permitted to expanded spearfishing rights on public lands – determined to be legally acceptable under the treaties. While this may have seemed only an issue for the judicial and legislative systems, this soon evolved into a conflict of culture in our area.

As a fifth grader growing up in Eau Claire, and a non-fisher – really, I cannot call myself an outdoorsman of any real definition – I was surprised at the growing anger and demonstrations shown on TV reports coming from northern lakes that spring of ’89 as Caucasian protesters amassed to display their disapproval at Ojibwe spearfishing on public lakes. To those upset, this violated the treaties, to say nothing of depleting the fish population for the regular fishing season and, therefore, harming the tourism industry. To me, not having an investment in either side, the antagonism made me uncomfortable – especially when the protests took on hues of racism and violence.

This was genteel western Wisconsin, now the site of demonstrations revolving around two races. We were now living in a tricky time, one where you wondered what acquaintances and co-workers were thinking. I was coming down on the side of the tribes, though I distinctly recall a conversation with a classmate who expressed his support for the protesters, on the grounds of fairness. A fully genial conversation, yet I was perplexed that there was disagreement. As time goes by, the maturity of the years makes you understand all perspectives. At that time, not all of the mature people involved had such broad perspective about what is essentially a sport.

My father, then the news director at WEAU-TV, went up north to learn more, and accepted an invitation from one of the spearfishers to go out on the lake, experiencing the serenity of what all sorts of fishers see every year. This, of course, was one side of a complex story. With “The Living Years” still fresh in the popular culture, he oversaw a video package that aired during a newscast set to that song, with video of the anglers, the demonstrators, the courtroom – this jumbled mess of hobby and legality and tradition and rights, fading to a protester chant of “Bull****!” – not censored on broadcast television – then into quiet scenes on the lake. That was the dichotomy, and who ultimately was right?

If you moved here afterwards, or are a Millennial, you missed this. Within a couple of years, efforts to stop the violence combined with work between the tribes and the state to quiet the conflagration. A quarter-century has now passed, and the situation is nearly forgotten; I needed to hear a pop song to remember what, at the time, seemed so significant. Perhaps we need this reminder that even leisure is complicated by real life, and that it is fine to admit that we don’t see eye to eye.