Newport Pier Report... a bit delayed.

[Ornery Bob]

On a warm summer day in 1957, my dad took me fishing with him on Newport Pier. I was six and my father had convinced my mother that I could be trusted not to jump off the pier. That was evidently good enough as she knew for certain that I could not be trusted to sit quietly and fish.

My dad loaded all our gear in the station wagon the night before. No one worried about leaving a car full of gear sitting in the driveway overnight. I remember it was still dark when my dad woke me up and there was a bit of hushed hustle and bustle as we had breakfast and took off.

We got to the pier and my dad selected our spot about half way between the waves and the end of the pier and then he took me to the end of the pier and showed me how you give the man at the small window the coin and he gives you a ticket and then you go to the big window and give the ticket and your bucket to the man there and he nets the fish from the big tank and puts them in your bucket and hands it back to you. I was very cool and you wound up with live fish in your bucket! I thought this was the whole "fishing" deal and I liked it already!

So then my dad got set up and he showed me how to gently lift the anchovy out of the bucket in a cupped hand and he put in on the hook and clipped it to the line that was already out and it slid down the line and into the water. Amazing.
So then not much happened. He let me walk around as long as I stayed in sight and didn't go on the water side of the benches. In those days there were no railings, it was just a row of low wooden benches and a cement curb. People fell over on a pretty regular basis.

My dad would tie the pole to a rope attached to his belt in case I dropped it and then he would let me hold it whenever I wanted to. Like I said, I was six, so my patience for holding the pole didn't last very long but my dad indulged me at my pace.

At some point he got a bite and set the hook and called me over and told me hold on tight and handed me the pole while his hands hovered close. I could feel the fish pulling! I could tell there was something on the line! He helped me reel it in and then he took the pole in one hand and grabbed the back of my jeans with the other and held on to me as he let me lean over and look down to see the fish. It was all very exciting.

The fish came up and it was flat and dark on top and white on the bottom and it flopped around a little and my dad bonked it on the head and that was that. He had a burlap bag that he soaked in the bucket to get it wet and then he put the fish in the bag. At the end of the day, we took it home and had it for dinner.

I fished off and on with my dad for the next forty years. We rarely saw eye to eye on anything and it was always a bit of a contentious relationship, but when we were on the water, none of that mattered and we were just fellow fishermen doing what fishermen do. On the water, whether it be ocean, lake or stream, we were of the same heart. We loved just being out there. My dad taught me by example to respect nature and to respect the fish. He taught me to fish from the heart.

I think that's the difference between fishermen and the bucket brigade. You either fish from the heart... or you don't.

[vdisney]

Thanks for sharing, my story is much the same. Remember having our boat lifted off the trailer and put in the water at Paradise Cove.

[SP Dan]

Really great memories ... thanx for sharing your past with us.

I think that we all have fond similar beginning stories,

My father was a avid hunter, SW FW fisherman ... but my first memory of feeling a fish was when I was 4 and we were camping in the High Sierras, my dad was trout fishing in the stream next to our camp and he calls me over ... he hands me the rod, shows me how to grip it ... and then told me that if I felt any kind of thumps ... to pull back sharply and set the hook ... I did ... and have been hooked ever since.

Little did I know way back then .... "that it was I" that really got hooked.
I'm now going on 65 and I've adapted my fishing styles and techniques to all the different places that I've lived.

It was FNN and Team SWAT that fired up the present SoCal SW chapter of my life ... and I'm still going strong!!

Thanx for stirring up some of my old fond memories that I hold dear,

Tight lines

SP Dan <"))><

[bman90278]

Nice report and pick!

I lost my father when I was 20 and some of my fondest memories of my dad comes from fishing back in the 70's and 80's. He used to take us all the time. Grew up fishing Lake Piru, Frenchman's Flat, Lake Sherwood, King Harbor Jetty's, Malibu Sport fishing, and Cisco's.
Now I have 3 kids and I take my 11 yr old all the time.
Thanks for sharing with us.

[TUNAVIC]

Cool read,reminds me of my pier fishing days,my Dad died when I was 3yrs old but at the age of about 9 a neighbor named Bob would take me and my brother in his MGB car very crowded for three and fishing gear.
He would take us once or twice a month,I think he liked my mom and thought this would be an opening for him,one of our fondest memories besides the fish caught was watching Bob lean over to look in the water and see him lose his sunglasses over the edge,happened more than once,good times!

Cya Tuna Vic

[Nuoc Mam]

Thanks for the great read.

I also remember when I was younger and fishing with my pops. This was back when I used to live in Minnesota, oh how I miss those days.

Dad: So you want to go fishing with me tomorrow son?
Me: Of course.
Dad: Ok, get a bucket and let's go get some bait.

Dad and I went outside at 8pm after the rain lighten up and started to catch nightcrawlers. We caught enough bait and headed in.

Dad: Go get some sleep, we will leave early in the morning. I'll wake you up.
Me: Ok, dad.
Dad: Wake up son, let's go.
Me: Nooooo I'm too tired. What time is it?
Dad: It's 3am
Me: I'm going back to sleep lol
Dad: Get up, let's go. You wanted to be a fisherman, well, here's your chance. The early birds gets the worm.

The rest is history. =0) I'm 37 now, been fishing since 4 =0)

[vdisney]

Déjà vu...................some of my best memories is fishing with both my parents. My mom and dad would be fly fishing and I'd be soaking worms on the side lines. 60 some years later and I'm still doing it