A true fisherman

There are fishermen and then there are true fishermen. George was one of the latter. When he went fishing with family or friends, he’d come home with his creel loaded while the others had few or none. It bugged them, how he could stand next to them, show them how, share his bait or lures and still beat them fishing every time — with only one exception, his friend Bill.

George seldom came home without enough for a fish fry, whether he was after trout, steelhead, salmon, bass or whatever. He especially enjoyed salmon and steelhead, both the fishing and on the table. He brought home beauties. We had fish for dinner often. If it was a larger fish, I sliced and filleted the salmon, wrapped it tightly and put it in the freezer so we could have fish whether he went fishing or not.

When we moved from Trinity County to Shasta County, he fished regularly in both the Sacramento River and Lake Shasta, bringing home trout, bluegills, bass and once in a while a salmon. The first salmon he caught in the Sacramento was off the old North Street bridge in the fall of 1941. We also made occasional trips to the coast where George caught perch and surf smelt. We cleaned these and put them in big jars with water and froze them. Frozen in water, the fish still tasted fresh when thawed and cooked.

The laws have grown more and more strict over the years. I remember trout limits of twenty-five. Children under age 12 didn’t have to buy a fishing license. When George was a boy in Hyampom, it was legal to spear salmon and steelhead.

One day, when George was working for the U.S. Forest Service, his boss, the District Ranger, came to the house and was flipping through a photo album on the table. As he flipped, he revealed an old photo of George with a spear in one hand and a salmon in the other. He flipped the page over quickly. “Oh, oh,” he said. We had to laugh as we explained that it was an old picture taken while a spear was still legal.

George loved fishing so much that he went fishing the day our son Jim was born. He brought me to Redding Memorial Hospital at midnight, stayed until Jim was born, then, instead of going home to sleep or to open our service station, he took off for Hyampom to celebrate by going fishing!