River rats live on OUTDOOR

A few weeks ago, I received an email that included a copied article about days from way back when. The author’s memories flowed from a time so long ago. As I read the piece, my mind wandered to the days of my own youth and a lot of my own memories rushed back to the surface. Anytime the written word inspires, it says a lot about the strength of the words. It has inspired me to write about the men who I wanted to be like when I grew up.

When I was young and impressionable, I was very familiar with the likes of Hank Aaron, Lew Alcinder, Bart Starr, and many other all-stars of that era. I knew all of their names and I wanted to play like them. (I wore Bart Starr tennis shoes. I really wanted a Hank Aaron baseball bat and was crushed to find out that the local general store only sold an Al Kaline.) Those were just my sports guys, the guys who I really wanted to be like were old crusty River Rats with genuinely cool names like: Rufus and Porky Hastings, Hambone Johnson, the Blaske Brothers, et al.

Porky and Rufus Hastings were commercial fishing brothers. They were my hometown’s version of the wrestling duo The Crusher and The Bruiser. The difference was that I never saw Porky or Rufus get in a fight because they didn’t have to. The sight of those two River Rats standing side-by-side with their barrel chests sticking out was enough to convince any man, sane or otherwise, that taking on one of the Hastings brothers was a poor life choice.

Hambone Johnson lived the way of the river. Tacked on the door of his shop was a giant snapper turtle: Shell, feet, head, and tail. It looked both impressive and scary. Hambone was also known for decorating his truck with a long nose gar fish. He would take the snout end of the fish and stick it in the back rail hole on the bed of his pickup truck that is used to secure a camper. The fish would drape over the back of the truck like a flag. Honest to goodness. Hambone was a pretty good commercial fisherman too.

If you didn’t know Jack and George were brothers, you would never suspect the two were related. I heard it told that George once fried up a sheepshead on the face of a snow shovel because he didn’t bring his lunch on a cold winter day of commercial fishing on the ice. Jack on the other hand was a cerebral guy who had the ear of the DNR. Back in the day he was often sought out for his opinions and knowledge of the ways of the river. They lived and died together in the same house and after they both passed a boat landing was named to honor their way of life and their contributions to the way of the river. It’s true, Google it. That has to be the highest honor a true River Rat could ever receive.

Most of those old River Rat legends have passed on. They may not be around to set lines or raise gill nets anymore but I can still see them. I can close my eyes and see them loading fish trucks, pulling scene hauls and driving their boats up river to catch a day’s wages in fish. The older I get, the more I seem to appreciate who I grew up with and how, when, and where. As a youth, I never got to play ball with Bart, Lew, or Hank but I got something way better: I got to hang out with the River Rats, my real idols.

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BY DAVE BECK