The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #2 — 1950

Newport Beach Fishermen Ply Trade in Ancient Way

“Fishing is like poetry; men must be born so.”—Isaak Walton. “If my sons thought of becoming fishermen, I’d break their heads. It’s a dog’s life.”—Jess Van Riper.

Walton was an angler and Van is a fisherman and maybe the difference in their points of view is that Walton earned his living in other ways and Van drags his from the rocky bottom of the bay off Newport Beach.

For Van is a follower of the oldest trade on earth. Fishing was man’s first commerce. Ancients headed their dugout canoes into the Mediterranean surf and brought back fish with net and hook and spear.

Sold From Boats—They beached their canoes. Their wives and children met them on the sand and cleaned the catch. And it was sold from the beached boats. Jess Van Riper and about a dozen other men ply their trade off Newport in much the same manner as the ancients. Before dawn they head their 16-foot flat-bottomed dories into the sea and by noon they are back, their boats beached. Their wives and children are cleaning the catch, setting up gaily-striped umbrellas over the boats and selling the fish on Newport’s sands.

Day in Their Lives—This is a day in the life of Jess Van Riper and the dory fishermen of Newport. It’s not yet dawn. The moon is a ruddy fingernail. The sea is quiet. Restless. Moving with a hushed sound against the white sand. The dories are ghostly in the pale light. Across the Newport town square the fishermen arrive singly. Yawning. Stretching their arms. Waddling across the pavement in their rubber hip boots. Dick Talstra. A Hollander by birth. A big man. In his 50s. Has been fishing from the tiny dories here for 15 years. Muttered a word of greeting to Paul Phegley.

Sips Coffee in Café—Paul, 36, lean and sharp faced. Felt hat pulled over his sunburned forehead. Stands listening to the sea. Sniffing the air. “Good day for it. Me for coffee,” he says. He sips the hot coffee in a café, open early for the fishermen, and talks: “My brother Henry came out first in the ‘30s. Got himself a dory and an outfit. I followed. Then you could pick up a whole outfit for this work for $90. And you could pull a living from the sea. Not too much, but a living. “Then there were men fishing here who’s been at it for 50 years. I don’t know how long dory fishermen have worked this coast.” He looks at the waitress. “What do you say Mae?” “I was born here 47 years ago,” she tells him. “They were at it and had been for as long as anybody could remember.” Paul goes on: “Then it was a two-man job. You rowed to the fishing grounds. Some used a small sail. Now, since the war, we’ve got outboards motors. It’s easier that way. “We stuck to it. Things got pretty good. People like to buy fish straight from the sea. Fresh. And we sell it cheap—25 cents a pound for rock cod and the salt water trout. And 30 cents for the gray fish, gray shark and halibut and such.

Quit in Wartime—“Just before they made us quit in wartime, the fish were really running. Once, in 1942, I got into the albacore. I caught 1124 pounds. In a 16-foot boat. And brought it ashore. I was wallowing in fish. The ocean was up to the oar-locks. “I rowed it in, got almost to the beach. When I hit the surf, I sank. But we saved the fish.” He sips the hot coffee, takes a drag on a cigarette, says: “I’ve quit a couple of times. Took jobs on the big boats, the tuna boats during cold winters. But I always came back. “After I’d piled up a little cash I took off for Louisiana once, bought a farm, swore I’d never go to sea again. But, something gets into you. Farming the land I kept smelling the ocean. I came back.”

Get Under Way—He drains the coffee cup, flips a coin on the counter. “We’ll, let’s make a day,” he says. Dawn has reddened the hills over Newport and now all the fishermen are here except two who have put out early. “That’s to get the first spot,” Paul says. “First man on the beach with his catch pulls his boat nearest the boardwalk and gets first crack at the customers.” The boats are being launched now. Fred Davenport, fishing here off and on since the early 20s. Small, white-haired. Leans onto his boat shoving it out for launching. Van jumps to give him a hand. And Big Tom Walker. And Henry Phegley, Paul’s brother, still at it. And young Harold Stadge, 21, with only two years on the beach. His father was a fisherman.

Rolled in Surf—The flat-bottomed boat slips on rollers down to the surf. It takes the sea, waves slapping its sides. Fred clambers aboard. Begins rowing. Van says, “He’s after the junk. Denio and Sanders made for the black cod—the salt water trout. Henry will fish junk. Tom and I and Paul and Dick will go after the red fish—the rock cod.” They don’t divide up the grounds deliberately, just arbitrarily. Too much red fish and too little other kinds give the customers too little choice during the sales. Van’s boat hits the sea now, rolls in the wash and quivers through the surf. He rows it slowly out about 50 feet. And slips the motor into place. And jerks it on.

Paul Rips Ahead—Roar fills the silence. Paul’s plywood craft, lightest and fastest on the beach, rips ahead, only the flat stern of the boat in the ocean. Dick is beside him and Van behind. Tom Walker is in the rear, his motor popping and coughing. Light is in the air and the sea is green and clear and placid when Van reaches the red fish grounds, about four miles out. He cuts the engine. Stands. A squat, red-faced man. High cheekbones, wide-set blue eyes. A stocky man with thick brown forearms. This Van Riper became a fisherman as soon as he first saw the sea, back in 1936. He had been born on an Iowa farm, had followed railroading, had turned West. He saw the sea from this beach and brought an outfit from Paul Phegley.

Full Equipment—An outfit is two 1500-foot lines with hooks set every three feet. It’s the 16-foot dory, worth at present prices about $300, tubs to wind his line in, gaffs to catch floating fish and hipboots and his $350 outboard. He had never fished before, but now it’s a nine-months-a-year job with him. Working a seven-day week, and a 16-hour day except when it’s cold or too fogged-in. The three winter months Van builds houses on a tract he owns (and has been bought from fishing) in Costa Mesa. Now, braced bent-legged in the rolling boat, squinting toward the shore line, he stands watching.

Boats Float Nearby—Dick’s boat floats nearby. Paul’s is a mile away. Tom’s is still behind, still chugging out. “Which way’s the current, Dick?” Van shouts across the quiet water. “Down and in.” “Down and in. Like yesterday.”  “Maybe it’ll go up and around.” Van watches the shore.  “School tower’s square over the palm trees,” he calls. “Down and in.” Dick says again. The rock cod likes its schools. The fish huddle together in vast groups—miles wide. The fishing grounds are marked with floats and as definite as the boundaries of a city block. Knowing the current is vital. A misplaced line will be dragged by the current away from the fish.

Drift of Boat Watched—Van sights the Newport High School tower above a tiny black toothpick of a beach palm and watches the drift of his boat. When he believes he’s right, he jerks the motor on, zips to one end of the grounds and, steering with one knee, flips easily across the grounds, tossing out the hooked line with an easy cowboy motion, the throw of a man flinging a lariat. Weights drag the line and set it down 600 feet. The cod are deep-water fish. They huddle to the ocean’s rocky bottom. Van leaves his line down less than 15 minutes. While it’s down and the dory is drifting easily, he talks.

Wife Meets Boat—“Fishing’s been good to me but I wouldn’t let a son of mine follow it. One is in SC—studying electrical engineering. The other’s in Chicago working for General Motors. Fishing got them started. Pays for their schooling. But the hours are too long. There’s no days off. It’s not a way to live. “And we all work at it. My wife’s young one, he’s 15, he’s out every afternoon baiting these 1500 feet of hooks. With anchovies or sardines. Pay him $2.50 or some other kid that. “And the wife meets the boat. She’s down at shore by 10 a.m. to wait me coming in. I might get a good catch the first throw and be in by then.  “She sets up a striped umbrella—that’s for the crowd and to keep the sun out—over the boat, and I put up an oar to hang the scales on, and she cleans and weighs and sells the fish. She’s out here toil dark. I’m on the beach or fishing from dawn to dark. No Sundays off. “The rest of the fishermen are about the same.” Van waits, watching his lines, squinting at the shore line. Then he says, “I’d better make $20 a day to make wages. That’s figuring $1.50 for bait, 60 cents for gas, $200 a year for lines, $150 a year for the motor and $2.50 for baiting. Let’s pull them in. See if we’ve got fish. He begins hauling in the line. At first there’s nothing. The sea is clear. The silver hooks can be seen coming up 90 feet through the water. Van’s muscular arms pull steadily at the nylon cord. Empty hooks and more empty hooks. Even the bait gone. Now there’s something else. Pinback sharks. Wiggling their slender gray-black bodies on the hooks. About two-feet long.

Tosses Lines Back—Van rips them off the line and tosses them back. “One time I went out,” he says, and picked up 247 pinbacks. So many were coming I started counting them. Useless beggars.” There are almost 200 feet of empty line before the first fish is on. Bloated, red, great-headed, its bladder pulled out from the change in pressure. From being jerked away from the deep water it loves. Eyes puffed and staring glassily. “Now they come,” says Van, “now the floaters.”

Fish on Every Hook—As the pressure changes, the cod swell and pop to the surface, dragging the line and other fish behind them. Now almost every hook has a fish on it. Behind the boat, they begin dotting the surface in a long, irregular line. One or two lose their hooks and float on the current. Van rows toward them, gathering them in with the gaffing hooks. On the moving, burnished water their gleaming rusty-red bodies glow in the sudden sunlight. It takes over an hour to pull the catch in. It half fills the small boat. There are about 350 pounds.

Gives Him Freedom—As the outboard motor carries the dory toward the beach and the afternoon’s sales Van repeats: “A dog’s life. But there’s something about it. An independence. A freedom. You owe no man, you depend on no man. It’s your life and your way of life. “It’s proud and it’s insecure and it’s dependent on wind and waves, whatever the weather decides to do. And the fish. Who knows how long the cod will stay here before they move on and we have to find something else to fish for? “A dog’s life. I wouldn’t have it for my sons. But for me—I wouldn’t change it for the world. —Cecil Smith, Los Angeles Times, May 8, 1950

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Additional articles on the history of Newport’s Dory Fleet

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Through The years

 http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-through-the-years/

  The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #1 — 1934

 http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-1/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #3 — 1969 

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-3-—-1969/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #4 — 1971

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-4-—-1971/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #5 — 1973

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-5-—-1973/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #6 — 1988

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-6-—-1988/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #7 — 1989

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-7-—-1989/

 

 

 

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The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #1 — 1934

Fishermen Go To Sea Daily In Dories From Newport — Only Place On Pacific Coast

For nearly 20 years on he beach next to the Newport municipal pier there has existed a fishing community which has its counterpoint nowhere on this coast. Ten to 12 dories under bright beach umbrellas make up the permanent village, and some 20 more dories are beached there at night. About 30 families depend on the fresh fish they can see for their living.

These sons of the sea are as taciturn as legend has them. When Shorty Gunther, who has been fishing from Newport for 15 years, was informed that his occupation was one of the Pacific coast’s unique ones, that Newport is reported to be the only place on the coast where fishermen go out to the sea in dories, and that there were those who would be interested in reading about it, he squinted reflectively into the sun and maintained that his job was his job, and that was that.

“No,” he said, “I can’t say I have what you might call adventures. It’s mostly a matter of going to work and coming home again. Once I had to swim 45 minutes to get home, and once in a while one of us tips his dory over, but mainly we don’t, and when we do it’s part of the job, anyway.” When asked why this unique industry had sprung just where it did, he said, “It’s on account of the surf mainly. There’s not so much of it here.

And partly it grew up here because the concession on the beach was granted then so long ago it has become a traditional feature of the Newport beach, and because the city charges them no license to sell their fish here, provided they always sell the same day’s catch, and that they keep the beach and their fish clean.

The men roll their little dories into the water any time around three or four in the morning every day, and row out to sea. Any motive power other than human simply is not used. The general practice is to go out two to five miles, and this time of year, put out from 500 to 1200 hooks per man, strung at depths of from several hundred feet to 2000 feet for sea trout or black cod, and nearer the surface for mackerel, barracuda, bonito, yellowtail, and the like.

In the early afternoon they row home again with anywhere from 50 to 300 pounds of fish to the boat. “We could bring home a ton or two apiece each week, if we could sell them,” Gunther said. At Newport the dories are laboriously beached again, the fish cleaned, and while the women sell the fish if they can, the men bait up for the next day. Cutting up fish and baiting a thousand hooks apiece takes up the rest of the day.

During June they fish for mackerel and sea trout, on account of the closed season on some game fish during May and June, said Gunther, who said he was reflecting the voice of the community, “this new fish law is the best law that was ever made. Except for it, we could take thousands of barracuda and bonito with our nets every day, and kill them off in two years, because they’re spawning now.

The seining season opens in September and then these fishermen put out two to a boat, and in groups of two boats, and seine drag this part of the coast for the fish they cannot take now. During this month they cannot sell barracuda or bonito at all, but confine themselves to mackerel, halibut and cod.

Asked about reports that the fish were not so plentiful this year, Gunther said, “There’s fish, all right. You got to find them, is all. Sometimes they’re one place, sometimes another. Our biggest trouble this year is not the lack of fish, but the pig sharks. We catch them pretty regular, and they just break our lines and ruin our outfits.

And so these men do their jobs because they are their jobs, and rain or shine they think no more of it. But more and more people are stopping underneath an umbrella to buy the fish, because no where else can one get one’s main course for a fish dinner just 10 feet from the water where it was caught. —Bob Guild, Santa Ana Register, June 21, 1934

Pictures from Santa Ana Register, February 21, 1935

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Additional articles on the history of Newport’s Dory Fleet 

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Through The years

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-through-the-years/

 The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #2 — 1950

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-2-—-1950/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #3 — 1969 

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-3-—-1969/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #4 — 1971

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-4-—-1971/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #5 — 1973

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-5-—-1973/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #6 — 1988

 http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-6-—-1988/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #7 — 1989

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-7-—-1989/

 

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The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Through The Years

Newport Pier was where I began my pier fishing life in 1962. I would ride my bicycle down the hill from Costa Mesa and try to get the best spot on the pier (the corner spot). To do that meant I would have to leave the house around 4 AM. Generally the only people I would see by the pier when I arrived were the fishermen at the dory fleet that was located next to the pier. The fishermen in the iconic fleet, a fleet in existence since 1891, had a long day in front of them. Originally they simply rowed out the 3-5 miles to the fishing grounds; by 1962 they were using outboard motors. Today, not much has changed  except for the actual people fishing, prices, and sometimes onerous regulations that can shut down various fisheries (with immediate impact on the earnings of the fleet).

Herein a few pictures taken during a visit in March of 2018 and a look back at the fleet and some of its history through the years

A marker near the entrance gives note of the history

Old Pictures

The dory fleet sits next to the Newport Pier

A “Lady Angler” — Rita Magdamo

Fresh fish — rock cod (rockfish), thornyheads, sablefish (black cod), and mackerel

Deep-water thornyhead rockfish

Deep-water sablefish aka black cod aka sea trout

Due to their fat content, sablefish are one of the VERY BEST smoked fish

Deep-water rock cod (rockfish)

There are almost always a few birds around

Some older pictures — and some history as recorded by the newspapers

2007

2012

Some history through the years —

Dorymen put to sea in their small boats early in the day, often before dawn, and are always (to some degree) at the mercy of mother nature. Blinding fog, freakish waves, sudden squalls and thrashing wind can make for a dangerous ocean. And, over the years, too many dorymen have left Newport’s shore and not returned. It’s rare, but risk is always a part of the game. Several stories over the years, including the story below, give evidence of that risk.

Newport Fishermen Lost In The Deep — Two Sail For The Banks And Fail To Return

Santa Ana, Dec. 15.—Early yesterday morning a Slavonian fisherman of Newport Beach, named Teakovich, accompanied by a French boy, started out in a dory for the fishing banks, a few miles off shore, and they have not been heard from since. When they left the beach they said they would be in the same afternoon, and the fact that they had not returned today led to the fear that they had met with accident, foundered, or been blown by the winds to some remote point. Searching parties were organized and a diligent hunt made up and down the beach for miles, without revealing a trace of the missing persons… Word was sent to Laguna, San Juan by the Sea, and other seaside settlements further down the coast… The belief of the Newport fishermen is that the unfortunate boatmen have found a grave in the briny deep. The lost men were typical coast fishers, poorly dressed, and had a green-painted dory. They were experienced fishermen and sailors. —Los Angeles Times, December 18, 1903

On the other hand, there have also been quite a number of stories that reference people that were saved by the actions of dory fishermen.

2 Bathers Rescued From The Surf By Three Fishermen

Newport Beach, Sept. 13.—Three Newport Beach fishermen covered themselves with salt water and glory besides reaping a reward Sunday when they pulled two bathers out of the surf just west of the Southern Pacific wharf. The men were not able to swim and ventured out beyond their depth before realizing the danger.

Their appeals for assistance were answered by “Steamboat” McDonald, Chandler Johnson and Louis Dixon, who launched a dory and went to the rescue. With methodical precision born from a long and close acquaintanceship with the sea, the daring fisher lads drove their boat through the rolling, tumbling surf and out to the helpless bathers, who were hauled from their perilous predicament into the dory and brought safely back to shore.

The men were so grateful for their deliverance from the jaws of death that they rewarded the fishermen with a five-dollar bill, which, although not much of a price for two human lives, showed that their hearts were in the right place. It was reported that the men were from Santa Ana, but they vanished so quickly that their names could not be obtained.—Santa Ana Register, September 13, 1918 

Sometimes sharks are caught by the dorymen. Most are fairly small and, depending upon species, they can be sold since shark can be good table fare. However, I think few would wish to encounter the following, both caught by “Shorty” Gunther. The first  sounds like a  hammerhead shark while the second definitely is a great white

Shark Attacks Boat At Beach

A death battle with a giant killer shark which attacked his open fishing boat in the sea a mile offshore from Newport Beach was won yesterday by Richard Gunther only after he had reached the point of exhaustion and after the monster had torn the gunwale from his pitching boat. Gunther and Donald Cavanaugh, 14 years of age, were fishing in the boat when the huge shark, more than twenty feet in length, rose alongside, apparently attracted by the smell of the bait.

Circles Boat—The shark circled the boat several times and then raced towards it. It attempted to seize the boy, who sat cowering in his seat. The maneuver was repeated a number of times, the boat threatening to capsize each time. Gunther commanded the boy to lie down in the bottom of the boat. He took a smooth bladed spear which he keeps in the boat and as the shark flashed in again slashed at it. This appeared only to infuriate the creature. It returned to the attack again and again, dyeing the water about the boat crimson with its blood. Finally the shark flashed part way up from the water and seizing the gunwale of the boat between its jaws tore a ragged hole in the craft.

Battle An Hour—The battle had lasted an hour and Gunther was nearing exhaustion. The frantic cries of the boy, however, finally brought aid in the person of Al Warnick and Albert Himes. They drew near the imperiled boat and also attacked the shark. Apparently mortally stricken by a thrust from the spear it swam slowly away and disappeared. The shark had a flat head with large saucer-shaped eyes and a huge mouth with double rows of spear-shaped teeth, Gunther stated. The dorsal fin of the giant fish seemed as large as a sailboat’s jib… he said, and it was considerably longer than his eighteen-foot boat.—Los Angeles Times, July 5, 1924

Three-Year Struggle Ends With Capture of Man-Eating Shark

 Jonah could have done it! Yes, sir, the prophet could have passed through the whale’s mouth at least. Score one for the fundamentalists, as proved by one of the most valuable instruments of science, the camera. Whether Jonah could have snuggled in the stomach of the whale for three days and three nights is beside the question at present, because “Shorty” Gunther, of Newport Beach, doesn’t have any evidence on that score. However, he does have evidence that Jonah could have found a welcome in the mouth of the whale, provided, of course, that the whale’s mouth was as large as a shark’s mouth. To prove that, Gunther today exhibited a picture of the mouth of the shark which he recently snagged at Newport Beach.

Three years ago, the shark, said to be a man-eater, attacked Gunther’s lines and escaped when Gunther attempted to spear him. Recently the same shark was caught on one of Gunther’s set lines and the battle, which had continued at intervals over a period of three years between the fisherman and the fish, was ended. If one doesn’t believe that the shark was plenty mean, take a look at the picture. —Santa Ana Register, November 8, 1926

Although rockfish, sablefish, mackerel and other mid-size fish have provided the majority of fish caught by the dory fishermen, every so often a larger fish (like the sharks above) made the news. It’s doubtful though that many swordfish were ever part of the catch.

From the Santa Ana Register, June 25, 1930

Once again the dory fishermen rescued someone, in this case a fisherman who had fallen from the Newport Pier (which did not have railings on much of the pier until recently).

Fisherman In Narrow Escape

An elderly Long Beach fisherman narrowly escaped death shortly before noon today when he toppled from the damaged Newport Pier and was saved from drowning by two fishermen who pulled him from piling beneath the pier, police reported.

T. L. Skillton, 72, of 1035 Lewis Avenue, Long Beach, was sitting on the edge of the pier near a broken end when he suddenly fell into deep water, officials said. Lifeguards, foremen and police were called, but before they were able to give assistance two unidentified fishermen pushed a small dory through the waves and rescued the struggling man. —Santa Ana Register, October 13, 1939

The monsoon-like chubasco that struck SoCal in 1939 destroyed many piers including those at Newport and Balboa. New piers were built and celebrations were needed for the dedications. Only at Newport did the celebration include dory races.

Newport To Dedicate New Pier Sunday

Newport Beach, June 7.—More than 4000 persons will eat free fish at a gigantic old-fashioned fish fry on the beach here Sunday as a feature of formal dedication of Newport’s new 1100-foot ocean Sportfishing pier, O. M. Campbell, general chairman, announced today… A full afternoon program has been arranged for the beach and ocean… The most interesting events will be dory races, which are open to fishermen only. Men who daily launch their craft through the surf to catch market fish will display their skill in piloting their boats through the roaring breakers. Both one-man and two-man dories will be used in competition, with the boats going through the surf and returning… The ceremony will observe completion of the new $50,000 structure which replaces the old pier destroyed in last September’s storm.—Santa Ana Register, June 7, 1940

Gleaners Of The Sea

As rich in drama and pictorial interest as the Cape Cod fishermen is the Newport dory fleet in Southern California. In calm or stormy weather you’ll find their small boats pulling out through roaring surf before daybreak, sometimes going out as far as 10 miles.

Before noon they return with their catch, pulling the dories high up on the sand.

The fish are cleaned, a canvas umbrella goes up over each dory, and along the boardwalks come customers to buy fresh fish from the sea. —Los Angeles Times, August 4, 1940

Pictures by Robert A. Jackson

Anytime big fish are mentioned as being caught, there’s a good chance that a shark might be involved. Warm-water years see hammerhead sharks enter local waters.

400-Pound Shark Caught Off Balboa

Newport—Balboa. Sept. 18.—A monster of the deep was landed on the beach at Newport yesterday after a long fight during which it threatened to tear out the side of a small boat occupied by its captor.

Shorty Gunther, widely known dory fisherman, brought in the catch, a 10-foot, 400-pound hammerhead shark, which he says is a man-eater and will attack anything within its reach.

The shark, its head measuring more than a yard across, chewed and lashed at the sides of the small dory before being killed Gunther said. The fisherman, who catches sharks for their livers, said that when such a large specimen is hooked it is kept tied to its line overnight to “cool off” and is pulled into the boat the following day. —Santa Ana Register, September 18, 1940

Like most areas along the coast, Newport too saw its shoreline activity impacted during World War II. Boats were restricted to certain harbors while piers saw guns mounted on some of them along with prohibitions against lights at night.

Newport’s Dory Fishermen Are Shut by New Army Landing Order

Newport-Balboa—The war this week brought to a halt one of Newport’s most-famed industries, that of the dory fishermen. For more than 45 years the fishermen have been putting out to sea at dawn, returning in the late afternoon to sell their wares to beach-front crowds, but an Army order forbidding landing anywhere except in certain harbors has halted their operations.

The tiny boats were allowed to continue their offshore operations for some time after the order was issued, but this week authorities “cracked down” as a measure. Army men pointed out the possibility of landing of enemy agents along this coast similar to those in the East, and orders that no small craft may approach the shoreline except at five harbors in the area between San Diego and Santa Barbara.

The picturesque fish market has brough nationwide fame to Newport in the past, and huge throngs formerly visited the beach where the boats were drawn up out of reach of the waves. The day’s catches were sold directly to the visitors—who were assured of “fresh” fish, as they could see them brought directly from the sea. Many of the fishermen have obtained employment on commercial boats which are allowed to leave the harbor after inspection by the Coast Guard. —Santa Ana Register, August 11, 1942

After World War II things returned to normal for the dory fleet.

Hardy Fishermen Risk Sea’s Perils to Supply ‘Dory Market’ at Newport

Newport Beach, Feb. 18—In this community, which has grown into a resort city of fine beach homes, sailing craft and elaborately equipped cruisers, a group of hardy fishermen in their little dories still wrest a well-earned living from the sea. They put out at dawn to work their set lines and do a little trolling and in the afternoon make the run back through the surf. There on the beach their dory becomes their shop. A plank counter rests across the stern, upended oar supports a spring scale and the apron pocket of the fisherman’s wife on duty as clerk is the cash register.

Housewives seeking fish “hour-fresh” from the sea move from boat to boat inspecting their wares. Perhaps a fish wagon pulls up at the nearby street curb and its owner bargains for a wholesale lot to be peddled to inland residential sections.

Since Early days—It’s the Newport Beach “dory market” which has been in existence since the days when there were only a few shacks on the peninsula which circles Newport Harbor. From father to son and grandson these fishermen have been returning each afternoon to sell their catch on the sands by the Newport Beach pier. The picturesque craft, their weathered owners, the smell of the sea and the bargaining are little changed.

Passage of time has brought a few changes, mainly in the use of outboard motors in place of oars. But the danger of running the surf, riding out coastal storms and outwitting fog continues and scarcely a season passes that one of the several dozen fishermen is not lost at sea.

Father and Sons—Typical of the salty clan who man the boats are the Dixons. Old Albert Dixon retired a dozen years ago, but remembers the years just after the turn of the century when he rode his dory to sea every day at dawn. His son Joe took up the trade and still fishes occasionally, while young Albert, now in his 30s, is one of the regular fleet. Tom Walker is another old-timer whose son is carrying on. Fred Davenport of Costa Mesa is a familiar figure with 19 years in the fleet. His wife Mary is one of the many wives who help clean the fish and sell to the public.

Gay umbrellas shade the fishermen and lend a market place air to the beach boats. The dories are 16 feet long and normally carry two men. A good day’s catch is 400 to 500 pounds of edible fish, including mackerel, rock cod, black cod, sea bass, bonito, kingfish, groupers, halibut and an occasional albacore when in season.

Around 15 boats fish the year round with a few more in the months from April through October during the fastest selling period. The men average in age from 20 to 45, although use of the motors is enabling older men to stay at sea.

Fishermen can make good wages with reasonable luck on the catch, especially when their wives help with the marketing. Newport Beach makes no license charge for use of the beach and the fishermen need only a State fish and game license and their necessary equipment to bring in the fish. —Los Angeles Times, February 19, 1950

Newport Beach Shark Captured

Newport Beach—A 7-foot man-eating shark was caught in a light fish net 300 yards off a beach crowded with bathers, a fisherman said Sunday. Dory fisherman Ted Phegley said a 500-pound great white shark was still alive when he found it wound up in his net Saturday. Phegley wrapped a rope around the shark’s tail and towed it ashore through the surf as swimmers retreated from shore. —Long Beach Independent, June 13, 1960

 From This Corner — The Dory Fishermen

 It is early yet; a cottony gray fog bank hovers just off the coast, trailing bits of mist past the still-lighted Newport Beach Pier. Straight as an arrow, a sharp-prowed dory draws toward the beach, knifing its way through the surf. The fisherman in the stern is standing, guiding his laden craft past the pier and onto the shore. A group of waiting children hurries to assist his landing. Rollers are heaved onto the beach along the wooden track leading onto the market area. It must be about 9 a.m.; and the first dory fisherman is in.

The More Things Change—We were waiting for the boats to come in. Newport’s dory fishermen have been plying their trade since we can remember. And their fresh-caught sea trout and rock cod are far better than market fish, if one can get to the beach in time to buy them. The routine of the catch has remained the same. So much so that the State of California has declared the dory fishermen’s area to be a State Historical Monument. And to us, a personal historical memory as well. In spite of radar-equipped craft with sonar fish-sighting equipment and all that, the dories still go out early in the morning to fish the banks in a natural way. One dory, an engine, one man, and his baited lines: to seek the deep-lying sea trout and rock cod (and an occasional halibut), and then to bring in the catch and sell it, fresh from the boat. The dories are moved up to the selling space by means of metal rollers and volunteer help. After unloading the outboard motors, gas, tackle, and other materials, the boats are converted into individual fish markets with colorful beach umbrellas shading the sales area. The wives of the fishermen serve as saleswomen.

Weight scales, newspaper wrappings, sharp fileting knives and trash barrels are laid out. A crowd of housewives has appeared, and questions begin:  “How much is rock cod today?” “Forty cents a pound, Mrs. Blaine, and how is your son doing?” A typical market day. Fileting knives flash as the types of fish are selected. The scales bounce; papers surround the purchases; tourists gasp and say: “Look, he has a gold ring in his ear. And his wife looks like a hippie!” The young people who have been working since before dawn give each other a wry look; they have been doing this work since they were children, but they dress as they please.  “May she be swallowed,” whispers one, eyeing the tourist who criticized her.

 “The More They Remain the Same—.” When we were very small children we used to come to Newport for the summer, and we’d visit the dory fishermen. They wore yellow sou’westers and seemed to us to be very old and wise and gnarled. They told us they could “smell—the places where the fish were—and we believed them implicitly.  After all, they caught the fish. Their ample, dark-eyed Portuguese wives would tell scary stories ‘bout the manta rays which washed unwary men overboard; or of giant squid which were just waiting outside the jetty to lure curious children into the sea.

We would shudder with apprehension and run home to tell breathless stories of these fishermen who braved the terrors of the deep. But we would be waiting, each morning, to help bring in the dories; to hear the stories of what was caught, and how many, and what strange adventures occurred. And this August, 1970, the youngsters were still waiting for the dories to come in—still helping the fishermen to bring up their boats to the market—still waiting for te tales of the glamorous deeps, from the men with gold ear-rings in their ears. —Sheila Thompson, Pasadena Independent, September 23, 1970

Fish Scare Eating Into Cash Registers

Recent findings of contaminated fish in Santa Monica and San Pedro bays have put a health scare into some Orange County residents, resulting in a business decline for many local fish merchants and eateries…

The fish scare began earlier this month when the Los Angeles Regional Water Quality Control Board and the state Health Services Department issued warnings about consumption of fish taken from Santa Monica and San Pedro bays. Both agencies have called for further investigation of the dangerous levels of toxic chemicals if fish caught in the two bays.

About 20 miles down the coast from San Pedro Bay, at the foot of the Newport Beach Pier, customers have been scarce for the dory fishermen. Made up of 14 family operators who fish from their small boats and sell their catch, Newport’s dory fleet long has been a popular open-air market for fresh fish.

But now, said a solemn Carl Marberry “everybody down here thinks we’re selling people poison fish.” Marberry, 28, added that if it had not been for the toxic scare, he could have made $400 instead of $40 from the mackerel he caught during the dark hours of Wednesday morning. “They (customers) just don’t show like they usually do.”

Nearby, another dory fisherman, JoAnn Brey, wrapped up some red snapper and whiting for the only customer at her stand. Brey said it was unfair that she and other local fishermen are suffering because of the controversy up the coast. She called the situation “a bunch of political b.s.” —Heidi Evans, Los Angeles Times, April 25, 1985

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Additional stories on the history of Newport’s Dory Fleet 

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #1 —1934

1935http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-1/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #2 —1950

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-2-—-1950/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #3 —1969 

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-3-—-1969/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #4 — 1971

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-4-—-1971/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #5 — 1973

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-5-—-1973/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #6 — 1988

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-6-—-1988/

The Newport Beach Dory Fleet — Looking Back #7 — 1989

http://kenjonesfishing.com/2018/03/the-newport-beach-dory-fleet-—-looking-back-7-—-1989/

 

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Giant Sea Bass aka Black Sea Bass

 

 Wreckfishes—Family Polyprionidae

Illustrations 1-3 from Pacific Coast Fishes, Peterson Field Guides, Eschmeyer/Herald/Hammann

Species: Stereolepis giga (Ayres, 1859); from the Greek words sterolepsis (firm scales) and gigas (giant).

Alternate Names: Commonly called black sea bass in our fair state although I like the more impressive names given by the French—bar gigantesque and barréan géant. At one time called Jewfish, California Jewfish and ocean hippos. Called mero pescada or pescara in Mexico.

Identification: Like many fish, the looks change with age, an all too common trait also common to “Pier Rats.” Adult fish are bass-shaped, heavy and robust. Colors are dark gray or dark brown with black spots on sides (that fade after removal from water), paler below. More spines than soft rays in dorsal fin; caudal fin slightly indented in adults.

Teenage fish are brownish to dusky.

Juvenile fish (to about 6 inches) are perch-shaped, bright red with black spots, and with very large pectoral fins.

A good description of the differences between juvenile and adult is given in California Fish and Game, Volume 6, Number 1, January, 1920. “One of the most picturesque fishes of Southern California, well known and appreciated by sportsmen and commercial fishermen alike, is the giant black sea-bass or California jewfish, Stereolepsis gigas Ayres. It is a common sight to see one of these huge fishes hung up by the jaw before fish markets and on pleasure piers, surrounded by wondering tourists. But although over a million pounds are landed yearly in the markets, the fish caught all range in size from about three to six feet in length. The commercial fishermen never admit having seen a jewfish less than one and a half or two feet in length, and all declare them to be dull black in color and without markings, as are the larger ones. Imagine our surprise then, when we discovered that certain pretty little bass-like fishes from the hails of the boat “Albacore” were the young of the jewfish! These resembled the huge, ugly adults neither in form, color, nor markings… the younger specimens are a rich brick-red in color and market with conspicuous dark brown or black spots irregularly scattered over back and sides. There are also white or pale yellow splashes here and there on the body, especially on the throat and ventral side of the tail. The vertical fins are black with conspicuous transparent edges, the ventrals black, and the pectorals pale or transparent. As the fish grows older the body color darkens and the spots become indistinct until the whole color is a uniform dark brown or dull black, except for the light patches on the throat and ventral surface of the tail, which often persist even in the larger adults. All the fins become black except the ventrals, which, though black in the young, are lighter than the pectorals in the adult, showing white membrane between the black fin rays.”

Size: Length to 7.4 feet and over 600 pounds. The California record weighed 563 lb 8 oz and was taken at Anacapa Island in 1968. Reaches an old age: a 7-foot fish found beached at San Clemente weighed 539 pounds and was about 60 years old; another fish, weighing 435 pounds, was 72-75 years old. Mature at age 11 to 13 years, 50-60 pounds.

428-Pound Giant Sea Bass taken at Catalina in 1906

Range: Gulf of California to Humboldt Bay, including Guadalupe Island. Uncommon north of Point Conception although once they were fairly common in Monterey Bay.

Habitat: Primarily bottom dwellers found in rocky areas, outside kelp beds, and along drop off areas. The young are common near shore. Depth varies from fairly shallow to 100 feet with the larger fish typically in deeper water. Their diet includes a myriad of fish species (especially small rays and skates) as well as crabs, lobster, mantis shrimp, squid, and octopus—basically almost anything that swims or scoots around the bottom where they’re hanging out.

Piers: There was a time in California when giant sea bass were a fish that was pursued by those filled with hope—and equipped with heavy tackle. Most oceanfront piers in SoCal reported at least a few of the giant sea bass each year.

Giant (Black) Sea Bass taken from the Coronado Pier — 1905

Shoreline: Rarely hooked by shore anglers.

Boats: Once a prize sought out by southern California anglers; Anacapa Island in particular was noted for really large giant sea bass. Now illegal to keep although increasing numbers are being reported hooked (and hopefully released) from boats.

384-Pound Giant (Black) Sea Bass taken by Franklin Schenck at Catalina in 1900

Bait and Tackle: Illegal to take.

Food Value: None since they’re illegal.

425-Pound Giant (Black) Sea Bass taken at Catalina

Comments: Though once fished to almost extinction, a fact that required a prohibition on take, they appear to be making a good comeback. Each year seems to see more and more fish hooked—and returned—from SoCal piers. The largest number appear to have been seen at the Oceanside, San Clemente and Goleta piers but almost every pier sees a few fish each year albeit most of these are young fish in the 30-60 pound range. We’ve seen several of these large giants slowly swim by, practically under our feet, while fishing from the Green Pleasure Pier in Catalina. The water is only about fifteen feet or so deep, crystal clear, and the sight never fails to amaze.

Small Giant (Black) Sea Bass from the Venice Pier

Although increasing in numbers, some studies still show the comeback to be taking longer than expected due in large part to toxins (especially DDE and PCB) that have been found in examined fish. The big fish spend much of their time near the bottom and many of the bottom lurkin’ species they eat contain toxins themselves. These toxins can affect everything from development of the larvae to normal reproductive behavior including (possibly) changing males into females (just say no Gabby/Gabrielle). It’s a tangled web we’ve spun in our local waters. Due to overfishing, they are currently illegal to keep in California.

Giant (Black) Sea Bass caught and released from the Paradise Cove Pier in 2008

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Winston Churchill & A Catalina Marlin

We went to see the movie Darkest Hour the other day, a movie about Winston Churchill and the obstacles he faced (including Dunkirk) during his first days as Prime Minister of England. It reminded me of an article I had read about Churchill catching a marlin at Catalina.

Churchill Lands Big ‘Un On Brief Catalina Trip

Winston Churchill lived up to his reputation for success in whatever activity he turns his hands to when he went to Catalina Island yesterday and landed a 188-pound marlin swordfish on a fishing trip which lasted only forty-five minutes. His success created something of a stir among the members of the Tuna Club, when he landed at their pier with his trophy, for some of these members have tried unsuccessfully for more than ten years to land a marlin.

The former Chancellor of the Exchequer of Great Britain and his party went to Catalina on Col. Ira O. Copley’s yacht, Happy Days.

While the rest of the party went on the glass-bottomed boat trip to the submarine gardens, Churchill and Ben. R. Meyer boarded Lee Phillip’s fishing launch, the U. R. No. 2, and went out to see what the ocean held for them.

They had not been out long before the distinguished British statesman hooked the marlin. It too twenty minutes to bring the big fish to gaff. It was gaffed by Capt. Monte Foster and the party retired immediately. Directions were given to ship the fish to the Biltmore in this city, where the Churchill party is stopping, and it was said that this probably means a big fish dinner at the hotel tonight.

Accompanying Churchill on his trip to the island were his brother, John S. Churchill, and their sons, respectively, William Randolph Churchill, and John W. Churchill…

—Los Angles Times, September 9, 1929

 

 

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