fishtales
Story and Illustration by Ed Boone
The One That Got Away
Three Times!
A couple of inexperienced fishermen try to land the big one
From the very first trip with my dad, I was totally
enamored with anything related to fishing. My first fish was
caught on the last piece of shrimp that I had discovered as
we were gathering gear to leave. Dad agreed to let me try one
last cast and it netted me the largest croaker in the cooler. I
was elated and could have stayed all day.
Due to dad working irregular hours on the railroad, fish-ing
trips were unfortunately few and far between. Finally, at
the age of 12, I was allowed to fish on Crystal Pier with Paul,
a neighborhood buddy. One of our moms would drop us off
in the morning and the other mom would pick us up before
dark.
This was the early ‘60s and things were different and much
cheaper. You could fish from 6 a.m. until midnight for 50
cents. We were able to fish, buy bait, and eat lunch for $2. As
us old-timers would say, “Those were the good ole days!”
We usually took two poles, one for bottom fishing and
one for “plugging” when the Spanish mackerel and bluefish
were biting. If the fish were not biting, we would walk up and
down the pier looking for lures and various tackles that were
caught on the pilings. When we located one, we would lower
a treble hook on a heavy weighted line and snag it. By working
the line up and down it would eventually break free and we
would add it to the tackle box.
Our box was filled with various size hooks, sinkers,
assorted tackles, and anything we thought might help us
catch fish. We didn’t have the most sophisticated gear, but
the price was right. And we frequently went home with fish.
This story happened on one particular day when there
were not many people on the pier. It was a typical summer
day with a blazing sun and very little breeze. The fishing was
slow, and it was hot!
There were four or five people on the end of the pier
fishing for king mackerel with live bluefish but there had
been no strikes all day. Even bottom fishing was not yielding
anything.
While checking the pilings for lures, I kicked a dead pinfish
into the water and leaned over the rail to check out the closest
piling. I couldn’t believe my eyes. A large king mackerel casu-ally
came up, grabbed the dead pinfish I had kicked in, and
slowly swam out of sight. Wow!
I looked all around to see if anyone else had seen the king
and it appeared I was the only one that had. I wanted to
yell at Paul, but that would alert everyone on the pier, so I
quickly walked over to let him know what had happened.
Neither of us had ever fished for king mackerel or had any
idea what was involved, but that was not going to stop us.
How hard could it be?
I had brought my dad’s pole and Penn reel for bottom
fishing and since it was the largest of the poles, we decided to
rig it to catch the king. We selected the biggest hook in our
jumbled tackle box and tied it onto the line without a leader.
We were too excited to even think about a leader.
I quickly found another dead pinfish, hooked him on
my line, and tossed the line over where I had seen the king.
Sure enough, he came up again and grabbed the pinfish. My
heart was pounding as I prepared to set the hook. I pulled
up on the pole to set the hook and the king’s teeth cut the
line. I just stood there in disbelief as the line floated free.
Dang!
march 2021 56
WBM