Monday, February 24, 2020

The Lure of the Lure


Dear Boo and Bubble,

Over the years, I’ve shared with you several posts to The Bridge Project about your great Uncle Bryant. Many centered around memories of him as my big brother; some focused on his amazing capacity as a minister; some were tales about friendship, fishing and music making. In fact, my inaugural blog on Monday, October 29, 2012, entitled “Beirut and Grenada: God’s Question,” was a sermon he delivered at an ecumenical service in Winston-Salem, NC, after the 1983 bombing of the US Marine barracks in Beirut and the subsequent US invasion of Grenada.

But I came across something the other day in a stash of papers that I didn’t remember having. It’s a piece he wrote about a little-known (by me) fascination with antique fishing lures. As I read his words, I realized that perhaps I had failed to adequately expose you to two of his more subtle characteristics—that wonderful sense of humor and dogged devotion to research.

Someday…as you mature into an appreciation for the Project…I hope you’ll enjoy these recollections as much as I have.


How Deciding What Antique Fishing Tackle to Acquire May Lead You to Experiences You’d Never Expect: Notes from a Novice Lure Collector

(Part 1)

By

S. Bryant Kendrick

(Much of the information and all of the quotations contained in this article come from an interview with L.E. and Eva Lisk, founders of Lisk Lures, Inc., it was recorded in their home on July 1, 1999, by the author.)

            Sometimes people tackling a brand new hobby find themselves wading in and getting over their heads almost before they know it. One way to find out that this has happened to you is to start collecting old fishing equipment and then to stumble upon a lure maker almost in your own backyard! “Not very likely,” you say. Well, it happened just that way to me! But let me begin at the beginning.

            I got interested in collecting old fishing equipment after my daughter and her fiancé had first hooked my wife on the joys of general “antiquing.” On one of their forays to a local mall, my wife, knowing that I am an avid fisherman, scooped up an old wooden tube full of Pfleuger Bull Dog Kirby 4/0 hooks and, upon presenting it to me, began to sing the praises of an especially “alluring” spinner that had caught her eye…one that had a striking mother-of-pearl blade. She wanted me to go check it out, since she thought is was “so pretty!” and I might enjoy just having it to admire, even if I never actually went fishing with it.

            A few days later we made the trip to the mall together and soon found the jumbled booth where she had seen the lure. She pointed out a six-sided carousel that reminded me of the type used to display cheap watches in a Walmart. Instead of new Timexes, however, this case was chock full of old lures.

            When the in-line spinner with the mother-of-pearl blade came into full view, I, too, was struck by its unexpected beauty. Until that moment I had seen only spinners made of metal; and, until that blade flashed its iridescent glow into my field of vision, I had thought of rods, reels, and lures as purely utilitarian objects whose only value lay in their ability to help me put fish in the live well.

            Suddenly, a whole new world of discovery opened up before me as I began to realize the sheer craftsmanship of lure making as an end in itself. I instantly knew I wanted to own this lure—not in order to add it to my tackle box—but to carefully preserve it as an outstanding example of how an unknown lure maker had once worked with natural materials to fashion a unique answer to the angler’s eternal question: “What makes a fish bite?”

            With the robust but untutored enthusiasm of a new convert, I rummaged through other equally crowded booths, turning up a few more lures which my wife had not noticed. After a couple of hours of intense searching and a series of exhilarating “first-time discoveries” (e.g., finding an early attempt to make a lure “weedless” by installing an ingenious metal harness to skim the lure over surface entanglements), my excitement, I am sure approached that of an archeologist finding evidence of a pre-Clovis hearth in a North American dig.

            By now, however, my patient wife was getting a bit glassy-eyed as I “oohed” and “ah-hahed” over each new find. Detecting the unmistakable signs of her rapidly developing intention to get me out of there, I reluctantly gave up my search for the day and paid for my booty.

            My first jaunt into the heady air of collecting antique fishing lures had netted me a bag full of —I would soon learn—old Bombers, Helin Flatfishes, Heddon River Runt Spooks, a Hawaiian Wriggler #2, an old but still shiny Penn reel, and a Giant Shannon Twin Spinner with the original bucktail.

            While reveling on the drive home in the ecstasy of my “finds,” my subconscious mind…recognizing an imbalance in the Force…began to focus on more somber matters— arithmetic. About the time we pulled into our driveway, the result of this subterranean cogitation entered my consciousness. The sum that I had just spent on fishing equipment (that would never again get wet) considerably exceeded the amount I had budgeted for a new Daiwa rod, a purchase which had over the last few months slowly worked its way to the top of my “Must Have” list. If I were not mature about this new-found passion, I could find myself flat broke.

            I needed guidance and sensing my quandary, my wise wife suggested that I visit our local bookstore and see if there might be something that contained the information essential to making intelligent buying decisions. Knowing good advice when I get it, I soon found myself in the “Collectibles” section of our local mega bookstore and there, indeed, was just what I needed—Carl Luckey’s informative text entitled Old Fishing Lures and Tackle (5th edition), Krause Publications, Iola, WI, 1999.

            As I slowly paged through this huge compendium that covers most of the tackle produced in the United States in the last century or so, I realized how vast the possibilities for collecting truly are. I bought the book and left the store with the decision firmly fixed in my mind that I must define a clear focus for my collecting efforts, or I would inevitably end up with only a hodgepodge of old gear.

            Over the next few days I continued to peruse Luckey’s tome and focused on my collection choice. Should it be only metal lures or diving lures? Should I collect only lures that are likely to increase in value or lures that look like frogs or maybe only folk-art lures? After sifting through all the options, I decided that it would be logical to explore lures manufactured in North Carolina, my home state.

            Returning then to the guidance of Luckey, I searched for any lure manufacturers located in the Old North State. When I reached page 427, my hunt was rewarded, for there I found a brief note about a hollow, plastic-tube lure manufactured by the Lisk Fly Manufacturing Company of Greensboro, NC—a twenty-minute drive from my house. “Bingo!” I yelled ecstatically.

            Since the book covered mostly antique lures, I assumed the company that manufactured this unusual plastic-tube lure would now be out of business. But my hometown of Winston-Salem and Greensboro share a telephone directory and I decided to take a chance to see if Lisk Fly Manufacturing might still be listed. To my surprise and utter delight, I found a slightly altered entry—Lisk Lures, Inc., 915 Onslow Dr. (336) 299-7787.

            With fear and trembling I dialed the number, not knowing what sort of reception I might get. Would my request for information about the company be rebuffed? Would my interest be deflected by a receptionist bored by yet another amateur collector calling? After a few rings, a gentle recorded voice informed me that no one was in the office that day but if I would leave my name and number, I would be contacted “as soon as possible.” I left a brief message describing my interest in learning about Lisk Lures, Inc., and my telephone number...and reluctantly hung up to wait.

(To be continued…)


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