Paul, "Pauley", "Fuzz", or the "Dumb Cop"
Deal Pauley
Not such a dumb cop when he was working. He became one of the three or four NJ State Troopers to become a Captain. But to us he will always affectionately be the "The Dumb Cop". Paul lived across the street from "Boat Ride" in Bissel, NJ. He has been part of the NJ crowd for years. The town where they lived was nothing more than three roads coming together, but they were the prominent citizens. Like the rest of us they were always cutting and splitting wood for wood stoves, growing vegetables in a garden, and raising animals which eventually made it to the freezers. Real, gentrified, country folk. I think he in fact, was the one to find one of the "Capes" wives in Abe's swimming pool naked with a local judge. But we are not completely sure of all of those facts.
Paul's a big guy and in fact once at the lake picked me up in his arms and dumped me unceremoniously in the lake. Ahhhh, the good old days and an abundance of beer and scotch.
Paul is at the end of the breakfast, lunch, dinner, and poker table in the above image. He is probably the most avid poker enthusiast in the group. No naps....."Let's just turn a few!" Cards that is. I think that quote has been uttered a thousand time by him. He caught on to fly fishing rather early after hanging out with Abe and I, and also took up golf. In my opinion golf is down there, as a sport, right next to "Bait" fishing. But we have three in the group who do it all the time and are fairly good. This photo also reminds me that most of us smoked at one time or another. This photo was taken back,,,I say back,,,,,when we were younger and thought we would live forever. Today. the only ones who smoke, do so only on this trip. I cannot understand that at all, having been a two pack a day guy myself long ago. That is also not a milk carton on the table....probably Cheez-its or some other health food.
Paul is probably the one of the men most easily teased. He takes it so well, but only up to a point. Which is the point. Caught one yet Pauley? Here smell my hands. This is what we're up here for. Or perhaps it was the night at the card game when Abe was so annoyed with him that threw Paul's watch against the wall. Took a couple of days for everybody to get over that one. But still remembered. Cheap watch anyway.
The one good thing about having him along on the trip, was because he was a cop. That meant we could drive at just about any speed we wished. If stopped....."Paul get your badge out"! One trip somewhere along a highway in Massachusetts, the gumball machine behind us went off and the trooper pulled us over. His immediate commend to us, instead of license and registration please, was "You guys look like a bunch of cops going on a fishing trip". Honestly, that was the opening line. Paul flashed his badge and we sat and talked about the NJ State Police Picnic for fifteen minutes. It seems that it is the best picnic on the East Coast. He never once commented about our speeding. Good to know people in high places.
He also gave each one of us his business card. Said to use it as a get out of jail free card if ever pulled over. I tried it once in Maryland and the trooper asked me for my badge. I told him to forget it as he probably never got the memo. I guess he was too young to understand the reciprocity.
Pauley is probably one of the hardest workers when it came time for "Chores". Over the years we had to do such things as a group as chop firewood, paint the porch, or build an outdoor shower.
The cop is on the left with the St. Pauley Girl non-alcoholic beer. Abe's too sons are center and rear center. Green left middle and the Cape middle right. I took the photo and Boat Ride is on the right with the evening or noon cocktail. Not pertinent. We are not a bad crew. Please notice the fact that the right wall of the newly constructed shower is exactly parallel with the door. This is an extremely modern convenience as proven by the hook upon which to hang one's underwear.
Dave, "Davey", or "Tumbler"
"Tumbler" lived in Hunterdon County NJ, and like most of us, is a country gentleman. He lived in a completely renovated old field stone barn, which was an incredible treat just to see. He was a later addition to the crowd, but was one of the most creative people I have ever met. His work took place in New York City, as was mine, which meant a two hour commute each way. We lived at the end of the train line so it made no difference if we overslept going either way. To this day I will never forget those old seats on the Erie Lackawanna line, with a bar car thick with smoke. From the outside, that car looked like it had window shades, so thick the smoke. There was always a card game where hundreds of dollars changed hands each night.
Again nicknames stick. Dave's one came from a night of sipping wine. Well, it's a little hard to justify sipping when one uses a tumbler to drink his wine. Generally somebody has a little too much fun and earns some kind of recognition. In this case the quote is "Hey Davey, want another tumbler?" And of course the nickname. It is all so much more descriptive.
This man in another of one of the most consummate fishermen in the group. One year he tied his own flies, because he felt that the commercial ones were too full or bushy. Smelt are slim or svelte fish, not fat little chums. Hence he tied an bunch of flies narrowly dressed which we have used for a number of years with amazing success.
Please ignore the ant in the photo, but after all I am a nature photographer. The top fly is one of the five or so patterns Davey tied and we are still use some years later. The bottom is the famed "Red Grey Ghost" pattern tied by Jim Warner of Wolfeboro, NH. These Warner flies are classic and renowned all over New England. Dave's flies, while not as well known, are certainly just as effective.
Dave was also the owner of Miss Saigon, a Ducker boat he carried on the top of the car from Georgia to New Hampshire for years. This is a blog entry I wrote upon the listing of the boat for sale.
"Au revoir Miss Siagon!
As most of my more intelligent and informed readers are aware, I travel to New Hampshire each spring fishing with a bunch of cronies who have been doing this for to 42 years.
If your not aware of that or don't fit into one of the two categories above.....you need to follow me more closely!
My friend Dave has for years carried his boat from Hilton Head, SC to Wolfeboro, NH (2131 miles) and used it as his personal fishing craft.
The images here show the last voyage, 2008, of "Miss Siagon".
She is an antique and for sale.
Here is the proof of the boat's effectiveness in a photo entitled "Rainbow over Miss Saigon"
You cannot pass on this investment opportunity!
Well, you can but I can't keep my used car salesman attitude hidden for that long!
The Boat
1. 3136 Ducker’s were produced
2. Built from 1947-1969
3. This one is serial number D2427 was built in 1957
4. Ducker D2427 was built by the Alumacraft Corp. in Minneapolis, MN.
She is for sale and any offer over $4000 will greedily be accepted. You also have to pay shipping and of course I have other pertinent photos of said boat."
She originally was built as a boat used to hunt waterfowl. Two hunters would venture forth in this thing and because of it's low profile was a pretty good hunting tool. Trust me....two people is crowded. And.....the recoil from one shotgun alone would move the boat three or four feet on a calm day! He eventually sold the boat to two brothers from Pennsylvania, making an outrageous sum he never expected.
"Tumbler" and I have spent many a day on the water together either, just being quiet and absorbing the nature all around us, or discussing what's going on in the world, in which we have absolutely no control. Good company when I can get him off Miss Saigon. He puts more hours in on the water that any of the rest of us and can catch fish.
One year, when fishing was great but catching slow, he decided that we needed to chum for salmon.
Now chumming is a salt water fishing trick used to lure predator fish to the boat. One chops up smaller fish and throws the mess overboard to form a slick on the top of the water and chunks just under the surface.
All year long, whenever he made tuna fish for salads or sandwiches, he saved the oil from the can. He must have had a pint of the stuff.
Now you know where I am going with this.
Bear in mind that we "Purists" would never reduce ourselves to such a coarse attractor as "Chuming", but when nothing else works......well who knows. He and I went out in the middle afternoon in "Putt" to do some serious fishing. I don't think that we had caught as many as four legal size salmon all week, it was probably Friday, and a real morose attitude prevailed within the group. So, we armed ourselves with ample snacks and drinks (this may have been the day he earned the Tumbler name), three fly rods and a spinning rod with (Gasp!) metal.
There is a narrow spot between Cow Island and the shore line where we have had a modicum of success in the past. Place is called the "Barber's Pole", because the post used to mark the shoal is painted like a barber's pole. Some original New Hampshire logic there. I would guess the spot is somewhere around one or two hundred yards wide, a half mile long, and offers depths from a few feet to around 30 or 40. At any rate, the wind generally does not blow too hard in that cut, and a chum slick would stay put instead of blowing up on shore. With all the lines out, Dave pulls out the magical elixir. I could smell it from fifteen feet away. Not good but we're not salmon, we're alone, and no one would know the difference unless, of course I were to say something. And you know I did.
After a pint of the stuff was dumped on the water, we started to troll around it in reasonably consistent circles. An oil slick did form. Now for you erstwhile salmon fishers, this is not the silver bullet. We did catch a couple of fish just over the 16 inch legal length. Unbelievable. But the good part was when we once again met the rest of the anglers at the cocktail table. I of course had to report to the what the techniques we employed to catch said fish. We spent an hour or two discussing the legalities of chumming up a landlocked salmon. The end result was that neither fish counted in the pool which had, because of our lack of luck all week, had grown to substantial levels. Too bad because I would have shared some of that cash. We have a first, biggest, most pool each day for two dollars each. Hence it is six bucks per man and one fish can be as much as thirty dollars per day to the catcher of same.
Skip, "Willy", myself
This is the tough one. How does one write about oneself. With humor? Autobiographically? With tongue in cheek? In all seriousness? In something akin to reverence? In disgust?
Yes.
I am a professional photographer of some local renown and a writer of much less renown. My specialities are wildlife, lighthouses, and scenic. I do not do weddings or parties. People can talk back and ducks cannot...........so my object of preference is the duck or similiar targets.
As I have stated here before, Abe and I go back to high school. You know when the wagons were still crossing the country. Or at least it seems. We have hunted together. Dated together (girls that is). Played pool together (his parents bought him a pool table). And of course fished together. Well live near enough that we could see each other weekly either in school or in young adulthood. We both married girls named Sue. He had two sons and I a daughter and son. Grand children now. He is still married but I messed it up and am divorced. There were not too many years that I did not attend the trip to the Big Lake and when I did not, it was torture.
I am not really sure what the big draw or devotion to that place is for me. I recall my current better half and I visited the lake in off the season and I very nearly, quietly came to tears. Why? I am not sure, but it is the memory that place represents. Not just the five days each year or the five very good friends that partake. It basically has been a distinct part of my life for 42 years and represents where I have been in my journey and where I have not been. Everything is connected it seems. I recall having to take vacations just prior to making the annual pilgrimage, just to keep the peace. Planning what I would bring in the form of my assigned food chore. In some weeks before the end of April each year, getting the fishing equipment ready. This includes taking each of the tandem streamer flies out and passing them through steam from the tea kettle. That steam sets up the feathers like new and they seem to last longer, look fresher, and stir the adrenalin. My steam is this visit to New Hampshire and the Big Lake each spring.
I am still astonished that after all these years all six of us are still alive. When I was in my mid twenties or early thirties, and in my quiet times, all alone, I just hoped to live to the age of forty. Now I want to live to a hundred so that I can act the way people think appropriate for an old man like me. "Oh well, look at his age. What do you expect".... age. Only the good Lord knows how much I or the other five have left, but I can say this.......life has been richer, more interesting, and a lot more fun with those guys and that trip.
As I am generally behind the camera, this is one of the few images in my files in which I am a member. From left to right......Tumbler, Boat Ride, the House Magpie, Willy, Willy the Cape, and Pauley. The unholy six. I repeat. Now you know where they get all those stern portraits hanging in antique frames in all the "Cracker Barrels".
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