Jack the Skipper Part III - A Story by John Mickman

As a greenhorn on a the commercial shrimp fishing boat out of Kodiak, Alaska, the skipper of the boat I was fishing on, Jack, was really putting me through the paces. This was just a summer job for me, and he didn’t like me much – or so it seemed…

At 4:30 AM, I woke up Jack with a cup of fresh coffee, and after growling a few choice profanities at me, took his place at the helm and told me to get breakfast started, but we would lower the shrimp trawl in about 15 minutes, and eat as soon as we were towing it across the bottom.

So that first trip began with Bert and me on deck, and Jack ruling the boat with an iron fist at all times. Because Jack knew Bert's dad and uncle, Bob and Evan Parker, and they had personally hired him, Bert began to be treated pretty well. But I caught hell no matter how well I did my job.

Trip after trip, he wouldn't let it go, actually, it got worse, not better. Jack was the Skipper, Bert was the Engineer and I was everything else. My work was never done. Cooking, cleaning the galley, the Head, the deckhouse and the wheelhouse (more clean than they had ever been I was certain), mending the shrimp nets both at sea and in the harbor, planning the meals and doing all the shopping when we were back in Kodiak to unload.

At those times, back in Kodiak, I barely had time to run up to Paul and Sam's house to do my laundry. After the cannery guys had the shrimp unloaded, I had to clean and scrub the hold 'surgically clean' so the next load of shrimp wouldn't rot. Then, put the water tight hatch cover back on, then to the ice dock to get ice, then to the fuel dock to take on fuel, then back out to the fishing grounds.

I was getting tired. We'd fish until about 11 PM, then have dinner, I'd clean the galley while Jack and Bert went to bed, then get everything ready for cooking breakfast before falling asleep. Being the cook, I got up first, started a pot of coffee, started the engines to get them warmed up, then when the coffee was ready, I'd wake up Jack.





The Sogn's anchor as we steam out of Jap Bay.

Then, my favorite part of the day would begin. While on these shrimp trips, we'd anchor up in Jap Bay where it was always flat calm, and at 4 AM, the sun was just lighting up the sky and the seagulls would begin flying around the boat. I'd go to the anchor winch on the bow, and when Jack gave me the word, always with a few choice adjectives, I'd start hoisting the anchor, making sure the wire rope, and then the chain, laid down nicely on the huge anchor winch drum.

I always brought a nice hot cup of coffee up there with me, and after Jack pointed The Sogn out to sea, I'd light up a cigarette, drink my coffee and watch the world come alive for another day. There were always many sea lions sliding off of their rock islands, and most times I could spot a Blacktail Deer or two darting off into the woods of the near shores. When the tide is out, the table is set, and many times I was lucky enough to spot a fox prancing along the tide pools looking for an easy breakfast. It was summertime, and many days were sunny and warm.

When we were a few minutes from where Jack wanted to set our net for the first tow of the day, I'd wake up my buddy Bert, and together we'd lower the net for the tow of the day, then eat breakfast while we dragged that first tow. Jack had a good feel for where the shrimp were and we always returned to Kodiak with a full load. It was 1972, and I was averaging about $1,000 per week - good money for these days, but a fortune back then.

Headed back to Kodiak with a full load of shrimp.

There were few things in my young life more satisfying to me than coming back up the channel into Kodiak with a full load of product. Fishing is the life blood of Kodiak, and being a working part of that was about as gratifying an experience as I had ever had - or ever would.

Life was good, except for Jack, who continued to ride me every chance he could. I was doing a good job for him, but his normal tone with me was yelling and cursing. I was convinced he wanted me to quit, but I wasn't a quitter, and he had no reason to fire me. Finally, just before the last trip of the season after which I planned to hitchhike back to Minnesota to finish up school, he laid into me like he was insane for absolutely no reason at all. I snapped and told him I quit; he could just get himself another whipping boy because I was 'outta there. I went into the crew's quarters, packed my gear and started to leave. To my surprise, Jack met me on deck and apologized. I couldn't believe it; I didn't think he had it in him. But it was a sincere request for me to stay onboard and finish up this next trip. I told him I appreciated the gesture, and if he agreed to treat me as the good deckhand I was, I would agree to make this last trip. He offered his hand and we shook on it. Big mistake!

After leaving the harbor with land being a mile or two from the boat, Jack came out on deck as I was finishing getting it 'ship-shape' and laid into me with a renewed sense of vigor and a fresh new set of swear words. Unbelievable! I suggested to Jack that he must have some kind of mental problem. That didn't go over very well, and the abuse rose to a whole new level.

That was it! I told Jack to turn the damn boat around and let me off; I quit. He calmed down immediatly, and gave the same sneering smile I had seen the first day I met him back at the dock of the King Crab Cannery. "John", he said. "We ain't goin' back. If you want to quit, start swimming." He turned on his heels and went back up to the wheelhouse. The next 4 days were the worst days of my life, before and after. He wouldn't relent. It was like he went berserk. I toughed it out and we got another full load, almost another thousand bucks.

When we finally returned to Kodiak, I finished my work on the Sogn, and went up to the owner's house, Frank Tennyson, to get my final check. Frank, who had been ill, was healed and ready to run his boat again. He told me how proud of me he was, and that during the past shrimp season, we had broken all the records for the most production the boat had ever had. He knew Jack was a tough skipper, but that he had heard from the Parker Brothers through their son Bert, that I was doing an awesome job despite the unruly behavior of Jack the Skipper. Awesome.

After leaving Frank's door, I began walking down his driveway, and up drove Jack. My heart sank. However, surprisingly, Jack had an actual full smile showing and he came up to me and offered his hand; I shook it. "John", he said. "I've worked with a hundred guys on deck over the years, but I've never seen one learn as fast as you, work as hard as you, and seen anyone enjoy fishing as much as you. Next Spring, after you get out of school, you come and see me. If I'm running a boat, I'd be honored to have your work on my deck. If I'm not running a boat, I'll make sure you get a job on one of my buddy's boats."

I was awe-struck. "What are you talking about Jack. You just put me through 3 months of pure hell. You never gave me a break. I had to learn the hard way - for everything. You gave me more work than anyone else on the boat. I haven't had a dinner on shore for the whole time and I haven't had a decent night's sleep for months. If you think I'm such a good deckhand, why did you wait until now to tell me?" I exclaimed.

Jack replied, "Because you weren't a deckhand at all when I hired you, and you knew it. You were a long-haired college kid on a lark. And by God, if you were going to work on the deck of a boat I was running, I was damned well going to be sure that you earned your keep. And you did that in spades. You did a great job for me. We all had a record breaking season. Thank you."

You could have pushed me over with a feather.

Along the Alaskan highway as we hitch-hiked back to Minnesota.

I did hitch-hike back to Minneapolis with my girlfriend and future wife Su, and finished my degree in the Carlson School of Management at the University of Minnesota at the end of Winter Quarter. But, I didn't stick around for the graduation ceremony. I thought long and hard about what I wanted to do with my life, at least right then, and knew that I wanted to go back to Kodiak, Alaska to fish. I got my job back aboard The Sogn and worked on a series of fish boats, each one better than the last, until I got on a boat called The Marcy J. I stayed five years before I returned to Minnesota to start Mickman Brothers with my brother Chris.

As my old buddy Tony says, 'Life is good'.