One of the first things I learned at an early age from my uncle Manuel was his techniques and his knowledge of fishing.
At the age of five years and a few months, he took me under his wing like an angel and hooked me on fishing. He was only 18 years old at the time but had already acquired more knowledge about fishing in Tampa Bay than most anglers twice his age. About a year into my adventures with my uncle he decided to expand the boundaries, that summer we started fishing Gasparilla Island.
Back then in the 50’s there were no bridges to the island, only ferryboat service several times a day. I remember the last ferryboat left at 8 p.m. on Friday nights. We missed it several times when the traffic on US 41, then a single lane highway, would backup for miles around Sarasota. We would have to spend the night fishing the old railroad bridge that carried supplies to the island (the bridge is still there today and a good fishing spot) until the next ferryboat arrived at 8 a.m.
We used to camp on the shoreline within sight of the old phosphate pier that extended into Boca Grande Pass, it was a beautiful sight at night, it’s lights looked more like a ship in the distance gliding into the pass (all that is left of the pier now is wooden pilings). Fishing was not allowed on the pier except on weekends. No ships docked and at night the guards would let us fish until daybreak in exchange for some of our catch or sometimes for a bottle of rum, and boy did we catch fish. Huge redfish up to 40 inches long, snook, grouper, flounder and mangrove snappers were common occurrences during the winter months.
At any given time you could hook up with a goliath grouper that many times exceeded two hundred pounds. We used 3/8 anchor line with 20/0 hook and for sinkers we used old window sash weights and mullet for bait. The line was lowered to the bottom towards the end of the pier and tied to the railing. When the railing shook you knew you had a big fish and all the guys would slowly walk the beast to the shoreline where it was cleaned, deboned and iced for the trip back home. During the day we fished for mackerel, trout and small redfish along the shoreline and island side of the railroad bridge.
Part of the learning experience was not only fishing but camping and cooking our catch. I remember a walkway on both sides of the pier with a conveyor belt that ran through the center. I don’t remember a lot more than that, other than that my uncle would tie old anchor line around my waist and the other end to the railing. This gave me enough scope to let me work an area but it was short enough that if I fell in the water only my feet would touch.
The current then is as strong as it is today, I would have been swept into the Gulf forever. If my mother had ever known or found out some of my many experiences I had with my uncle, it would have ended my fishing career. In the winter of 1952 Uncle Manuel received an invitation from Uncle Sam, then known as the draft board, to spend some time in the Army. My adventures were put on hold until his return, but my love for fishing continues even today.