Commercial Fishing, Boiling the Nets and Grandpa in a Tree!

Huge tripods suspending large cast iron kettles over a blazing wood fire bring up images of Halloweeen and witches' brew. Halloween would come 7 months later though. Those bubbling cauldroms meant serious business and there would be time for another kind of brew after the fires were out and all was packed up.

Junior’s dad was home for the weekend. As a deckhand who eventually made captain in the U.S. Corp of Engineers, his winter work included repairing the tugs – lots of painting – or sounding the local waters, supplying information for government charts. Winter work often allowed him to be around on an early spring weekend or two, something that didn’t happen from then on until late fall. It was a time when he could help his father and brothers in the family’s commercial fishing business. The fishnets needed cleaning and there was work to do. Grandpa and the uncles, and all the commercial fishermen, used gill nets for ice fishing all winter.

Just after dawn one frosty Saturday morning, Junior and his dad packed the family Model A and headed for Little Sturgeon Bay. By the time they reached the net cleaning area, steam from the boiling kettles was already rising above the cedar trees. Everybody was hustling and bustling in an almost carnival atmosphere as the various fishermen’s families took turns throwing logs under the big black kettles mounted on tripods while the men dunked their nets in the kettles of boiling water that dotted the bay shore clearing. All the while, the strong smell tar permeated the spring air.  Whether the tar was being used for coating lines and equipment as a preventative or to generate more heat in the fires is something Junior forgot. Perhaps it was both.

Teams of horses stood by waiting to pull the wagons full of nets. Jumpier than usual, some teams shied nervously as they backed their loads near the steaming pots. It was spring and they weren’t getting needed exercise. All winter long the horses worked with the fishermen, getting nets and supplies distributed around the area bays and then hauling boxes of fish off the ice to market distribution points. Before long the same horses would be taking up their summer jobs - working on farms. Right now it was between the big work seasons. Understandably the horses were nervous. Fire, steam and all that commotion didn’t help.

After Junior’s family took their nets from the boiling pots, their winter season was over – at least after the horses and wagons hauled the nets to Sturgeon Bay for use on the Lady Marie, the family’s fishtug. But, as it turned out, there was a little more to that fishing year.

Once the net boxes were loaded on wagons and the team had to begin pulling, it became obvious that the horses were even more jumpy. As a lumber camp teamster and a graduate of a horse short course at University of Wisconsin, Grandpa was an experienced horseman. Sensing problems, Grandpa sent Junior’s dad to Sturgeon Bay for the family truck so some of the net load could be transferred to it. Getting up  the hills on the way back toward Sturgeon Bay was hard work, and Grandpa feared a runaway.

As soon as Junior’s dad was underway in the truck, Junior and his cousin were told to hop on the back of the wagon. They were instructed to jump off immediately if the wagon picked up speed. Even partially loaded, a runaway was a possibility. Riding on the wagon was fun for the boys who enjoyed themselves as they went east through the farm country toward Sturgeon Bay. Just about the time the boys were taking things for granted, Grandpa brought the wagon to a stop and told them to get off. They were at the foot of a hill just before the little country airport, and Grandpa wasn’t sure of the team on the grade. With the boys walking behind, the wagon started forward. But just then Junior’s dad came over the hill driving the red truck and scaring the team which took off running in a flash. The dreaded run-away!

The wagon was bouncing, net boxes were flying and Grandpa was standing, trying to rein in the team that was racing toward town with the boys running in hot pursuit. In what seemed like only a few seconds the wagon was an empty while Grandpa was still pulling on the reins. As son as Junior's dad was able to turn the truck around, the boys jumped in.  The truck was chasing the wagon which remained upright for over a half mile before it flipped over into the ditch, pitching Grandpa into the air. As the hitch broke free of the wagon, the wagon continued down the road when the limb of a tree drove through Grandpa’s Navy pea coat, leaving him hanging in a tree!

The horses kept going until a farmer far down the road stopped his vehicle to try to approach the team on foot. As it neared him he was able to grab one of the bridles, thus bringing the hitch to a stop. Grandpa got out of the tree uninjured. And the pea coat? It made quite a mending job for Junior’s mother a few days later. 

The boys were safely home before the nets and net boxes were all retrieved, but the vivid memories of that wagon on its side in the ditch with front wheels spinning and Grandpa hanging in a tree at the edge of a swamp are the images forming never-to-be-forgotten family memories.


Left: Net drying racks and net mending needles. Nets needing repair are mended as they are reeled on to the racks.

Sources: Paintings, or parts of paintings, are used with permission from the artist N. Johnson. Photos are in the family collection