I guess it would be safe to say that I’ve never been much of a fisherman. Oh, my dad sometimes took me fishing when I was just a kid and he showed me how to attach the hook to the line and how to cast the C.P. Swing lure onto the water. While living in New Mexico, I remember several trips he and I took into the mountains and to the Pecos River.
We always camped alongside the Pecos River. Now that I look back on it, the so-called river was just a trout stream but back then the size of the body of water didn’t make a lot of difference to me. My dad called it the Pecos River and who was I, a twelve-year-old boy and at best a novice fisherman, to question him?
I don’t recall how many trips we took but I do vividly recall the sleeping and eating arrangements. We each slept inside our own sleeping bags that had zippers on the sides. There was nothing between the hard ground and the bag and there was never a tent. The food, cans of chili and beans were heated in a pan atop a small Coleman stove. My father always brought a loaf of white bread, and some lunchmeat was stored in a cooler along with a bag or two of ice.
The husband of my mother was a twenty-year Marine and looking back on those accommodations, he may have tried to make things more comfortable just for my benefit. Anyway, when you’re twelve the ground isn’t all that hard and if I was at home, I would have probably been eating a hunk of bologna nestled between two slices of white bread anyway.
Now that I live in Noel, Missouri and very near Elk River I often see folks maneuvering small boats across the top of the water. I very often search for a clue as to their intentions, are they perhaps fishing? More often than not, I spy the image of a fishing rod or two, or three extending from the side of the boat.
In 1942, Noel resident B.F. St. Clair caught a ten-and-one-half-pound blue catfish while fishing in Elk River just below Noel. He also claimed that he caught an additional five channel catfish. Mr. St. Clair reported that he used a cane pole and the bait which enticed the fish was live minnows. Should any poor soul doubt Mr. St. Clair’s fishing prowess he stood ready to produce three witnesses, if truly needed.
It was in August of 1934 that John Graham of McDonald County told a reporter for the Pineville Democrat Newspaper about the landing of a monster. Mr. Graham stated that while fishing on Sugar Creek near the Roller School he felt a tug on his line. The struggle between the fisherman and the fish lasted some time but eventually, Mr. Graham pulled the eighteen-pound catfish from the water. Graham claimed that the catfish may have been at least two feet in length, maybe.
In 1935 a group of avid fishermen consisting of L.S. Orr, E.L. Young, and Luther Johnson heard stories about a deep-water hole in Elk River about a mile below Noel. Unable to breathe without trying their luck the three men found the location and cast their lures on the water. It wasn’t long before one of the men had a bite.
All three men knew it was a big fish, but none could have imagined just how big the catfish was. When the fish was finally pulled from the water, and then weighed, it was determined that the catfish weighed forty-four pounds. The fishermen later discovered that the catch was the largest fish ever caught in McDonald County.
For years, folks looked for that deep water hole and who can say for sure how many fishermen, and yes women, ever found the hole that was once home to the forty-four-pound monster. However, in 1942 Mrs. Ray Marrs of Jane tried her luck just below Noel. Her efforts were rewarded as she brought from the water a ten-pound catfish.
I remember the last time my dad and I camped and fished at the Pecos River. I was about thirteen years old when he asked if I wanted to go fishing. Maybe it was the look on my face or the delay in answering but he added something. He wanted me to ask my best friend Bob if he wanted to go with us.
I had never been camping with a friend before, let alone my best friend, so I told my father I’d run over to Bob’s house right then and there and ask if he wanted to go. Bob asked his mother, his father was serving in the Navy and stationed overseas, if he could go with me and my dad and she immediately said yes.
I don’t remember a lot about the trip except that on the first morning my dad said he was going upstream and told me and Bob to try our luck downstream. It was then that I knew I was getting older as I had never before been very far from him on trips to the Pecos.
As I recall, Bob and I spent more time in the stream unsnagging our lures than we did fishing. We argued about who was at fault for the fishing interruptions and, I don’t know who pushed who first, but we both ended up in the stream.
Bob and I, needless to say, didn’t come close to catching a fish. We found our way back to the camp and sat there in our water-soaked clothes waiting for the, soon to be coming, lecture from my father. The funny thing is, when he got back carrying a stringer full of rainbow trout he never once mentioned our conditions.
Upon retirement, my father returned to his hometown of Noel, Missouri. I stayed in the St. Louis area, married my high school sweetheart, and raised a family. I don’t know if he ever fished in the Elk River, but I do know that following that last trip to the Pecos, we never again went fishing together.
I wonder if he ever fished in that deep water hole in Elk River just below Noel.
Midwest Musings 