A CHESAPEAKE BAY FISHING TRIP
Dad loved to take Mother, Bud and me fishing on the Bay and we always went at sun down and we always caught lots of croakers and spots. Dad would get some other family to go for fun and share the expense of a charter fishing boat out of Deal Maryland. They would always divide the cost and fish by the heads of families so that it was not too expensive during the depression.
We liked to go with Dad’s friends from the Kiwanis Club the best. Mr. And Mrs. Frank Miller, the baker was our favorite family with Mr. and Mrs. Earl Kirby of Kirby Dodge and Plymouth Dealership a close second. They were nice to Bud and me and would include us in their conversation and fun. Mr. Kirby would treat us to a five-cent soda before we left the dock and that was enough to endear us to him. Years later Mr. Kirby met a red haired young beauty, divorced the Mother of his children and his first love, to live a life of loud plaid jackets and bright slacks at the Country Club with the young red head. Mrs. Kirby got all she could but it wasn’t enough. I remember the discussion between Mom and Dad about how to handle the situation and they decided to give up Mr. Kirby as a social friend. I wasn’t sure what divorced meant but I knew it was bad.
The most memorable trip was with the Hohein’s our next-door neighbor. We only went once with them. Mrs. Hohein was a delightful outgoing person as I remember but Mr. Hohein was selfish and had no observable show of affection to daughter Barbara, two years my junior or Mrs. Hohein. He was a bank teller at Clarendon Bank just up the street. He must have been the one blamed for the expression, “He has the cold heart of a banker.”
We arrived at the dock near sundown on a very hot evening without a single breeze. We were sure once we got out on the water it would be cooler but that didn’t happen. It stayed hot and without a breeze we had mosquitoes too.
Dad was the only one to have a fishing rod and reel and it was a beauty. Split bamboo bay rod with German silver line guides and reel seat, and a free spool reel. He had bought it at a pawnshop in Baltimore for five dollars before he knew Mother. The rest of us used hand lines with two hooks attached and a lead sinker. I still have my hand line tucked away in my fishing supplies along with Dad’s rod.
Mother caught the first double set of croakers. That was because Dad always set her up first and she was the first in with her rig. We cought fish two at a time all evening long until Bud and I had to stop and rest. Our arms and hands were like lead from hauling up five pounds of fish so fast. Those hand lines are rough and combined with wet hands, we were loseing skin off our fingers. The way you fish with a hand line is to drop the line over the side of the boat and when the lead weight hits the bottom you pinch the line between your thumb and finger, jiggle the weight off and on the bottom and wait for the nibble but those fish hit even before it reached the bottom. Barbara didn’t fish, she just went to sleep in the cabin.Girls!
When we returned to the dock we got into the car quick to get away from the mosquitoes while Dad and Mr. Hohein paid for the trip and collected the fish. Once we were underway for home, Dad was cussing and laughing at the same time. He said to Mother, thinking we were asleep, “We will never go with them again anyplace. I have never seen such a cheap skate like Hohein. He thought the way to divide up the cost would be for them to pay by the head and since Barbara didn’t fish and wouldn’t count, he would pay one third for the trip and I pay two thirds. He wanted to divided the fish in half by families. He wanted me to load my tub by counting each fish. I told him to dump those damn fish into the tubs and take the the heaviest or just fill his to the top and we would take what was left.” That was when I went to sleep. Dad may have forgiven him over the years but he didn’t forget, and neither did I. Bud and I slept all the way home as was our custom.
The next morning I found Dad had cleaned a wash tub full of fish and had bundles of clean fish on ice ready to deliver to friends and relatives. He had stayed up most of the night cleaning fish and now was going to deliver the bundles. Mr. Hohein’s tub of fish was in his backyard with a chunk of ice covered by newspaper. He got started about ten o’clock and cleaned the few he wanted and some he gave away uncleaned to those who came to get them and the rest spoiled according to Dad. Dad said no one wants uncleaned fish. I loved my Dad and went with him to deliver fish to all the aunts, uncles, and fishing friends. He could have given away all those fish Mr. Hohein coveted and let spoil during depression times.
I was very happy to be a Rupert and not a Hohein. I was glad my stork was not a house off when he dropped me down the chimney.
We liked to go with Dad’s friends from the Kiwanis Club the best. Mr. And Mrs. Frank Miller, the baker was our favorite family with Mr. and Mrs. Earl Kirby of Kirby Dodge and Plymouth Dealership a close second. They were nice to Bud and me and would include us in their conversation and fun. Mr. Kirby would treat us to a five-cent soda before we left the dock and that was enough to endear us to him. Years later Mr. Kirby met a red haired young beauty, divorced the Mother of his children and his first love, to live a life of loud plaid jackets and bright slacks at the Country Club with the young red head. Mrs. Kirby got all she could but it wasn’t enough. I remember the discussion between Mom and Dad about how to handle the situation and they decided to give up Mr. Kirby as a social friend. I wasn’t sure what divorced meant but I knew it was bad.
The most memorable trip was with the Hohein’s our next-door neighbor. We only went once with them. Mrs. Hohein was a delightful outgoing person as I remember but Mr. Hohein was selfish and had no observable show of affection to daughter Barbara, two years my junior or Mrs. Hohein. He was a bank teller at Clarendon Bank just up the street. He must have been the one blamed for the expression, “He has the cold heart of a banker.”
We arrived at the dock near sundown on a very hot evening without a single breeze. We were sure once we got out on the water it would be cooler but that didn’t happen. It stayed hot and without a breeze we had mosquitoes too.
Dad was the only one to have a fishing rod and reel and it was a beauty. Split bamboo bay rod with German silver line guides and reel seat, and a free spool reel. He had bought it at a pawnshop in Baltimore for five dollars before he knew Mother. The rest of us used hand lines with two hooks attached and a lead sinker. I still have my hand line tucked away in my fishing supplies along with Dad’s rod.
Mother caught the first double set of croakers. That was because Dad always set her up first and she was the first in with her rig. We cought fish two at a time all evening long until Bud and I had to stop and rest. Our arms and hands were like lead from hauling up five pounds of fish so fast. Those hand lines are rough and combined with wet hands, we were loseing skin off our fingers. The way you fish with a hand line is to drop the line over the side of the boat and when the lead weight hits the bottom you pinch the line between your thumb and finger, jiggle the weight off and on the bottom and wait for the nibble but those fish hit even before it reached the bottom. Barbara didn’t fish, she just went to sleep in the cabin.Girls!
When we returned to the dock we got into the car quick to get away from the mosquitoes while Dad and Mr. Hohein paid for the trip and collected the fish. Once we were underway for home, Dad was cussing and laughing at the same time. He said to Mother, thinking we were asleep, “We will never go with them again anyplace. I have never seen such a cheap skate like Hohein. He thought the way to divide up the cost would be for them to pay by the head and since Barbara didn’t fish and wouldn’t count, he would pay one third for the trip and I pay two thirds. He wanted to divided the fish in half by families. He wanted me to load my tub by counting each fish. I told him to dump those damn fish into the tubs and take the the heaviest or just fill his to the top and we would take what was left.” That was when I went to sleep. Dad may have forgiven him over the years but he didn’t forget, and neither did I. Bud and I slept all the way home as was our custom.
The next morning I found Dad had cleaned a wash tub full of fish and had bundles of clean fish on ice ready to deliver to friends and relatives. He had stayed up most of the night cleaning fish and now was going to deliver the bundles. Mr. Hohein’s tub of fish was in his backyard with a chunk of ice covered by newspaper. He got started about ten o’clock and cleaned the few he wanted and some he gave away uncleaned to those who came to get them and the rest spoiled according to Dad. Dad said no one wants uncleaned fish. I loved my Dad and went with him to deliver fish to all the aunts, uncles, and fishing friends. He could have given away all those fish Mr. Hohein coveted and let spoil during depression times.
I was very happy to be a Rupert and not a Hohein. I was glad my stork was not a house off when he dropped me down the chimney.
posted by JackSML | 9:06 PM
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