The Bullfrog - John S. Mickman

30 years ago, our company was much smaller and our ‘home office’ was actually at my family’s farmstead in Ham Lake. This particular Spring, we had only one Lawn Sprinkler Installation Crew with barely enough work to keep them working. However, I was confident sales would pick up once the weather turned warm, but it was a very slow start to that season.

Towards the end of May, things were looking a little better; in addition to a number of other projects, we sold a huge Lawn Sprinkler Project on top of the clay bluff in West St. Paul. Based upon getting this project, I hired a bright eyed, bushy tailed young man named Jeff Sutter. Jeff had some experience as he had worked in his dad’s small lawn sprinkler business, and although just out of high school, I recognized great potential in Jeff.

So, I gave him the best laborers I could find, supplied him with the technical support he needed, purchased a new (used) pipe puller and away he went with his crew to the Fox Ridge Townhouse Project. Each day he would return from Fox Ridge and color in on the Master Irrigation Plan how far he had gotten that day and we would discuss the next day’s work and what his goals for that day would be. This turned out to be a very good job for us, albeit, not without issues. However, Jeff proved to be an excellent foreman and great problem solver; all went well.

At the conclusion of this two month project, Jeff and I went to the site to do the ‘Final Walk Through’ with the Project Architect and owner. I wasn’t worried as I had visited the site many, many times and everything worked great and all the lawns were plush and green – in spite record heat and the rock hard clay Jeff and his crew had to battle with each day.

Well, wouldn’t you know it; during the inspection, one of the big, automatic zone valves ‘stuck on’ and the water on that section of the big irrigation system wouldn’t turn off. So, Jeff stayed to tear the underground valve apart to see what the problem was, while I took the owner and architect to inspect the rest of the site. Every other part of the system was perfect, and at the end of the inspection, the architect suggested to the owner that they go over some other aspects of the project; they would look at that last zone with the sticky valve before they left.

So, I walked over to the other end of the site to see how Jeff was doing. When I arrived, he was on his knees, had bailed out the big hole he had had to dig to expose the valve and was just taking the last of the dozen screws out to remove the valve cap. I got down to help him, as he pulled the big valve apart along with the diaphragm, spring, solenoid, etc. After he removed these parts, I examined the valve casing; everything looked good. Jeff discovered a small pebble blocking a communication journal in the valve cap and removed it. Then, just as we were going re-assemble the valve, a huge bullfrog leaped into the big puddle we were working over, then jumped into the valve casing in the middle of the puddle. Jeff and I both fell into the muddy puddle trying to grab the frog by its legs before it disappeared into the mainline pipe, and I managed to grab the frog by one of his toes. Unfortunately, I never found out which toe, because he slipped out of my grasp and into the innards of the irrigation Mainline!

We couldn’t believe it; what were the odds that a bullfrog would decide to jump into our puddle and into this valve – right during this big inspection! Well, Jeff had the idea that since the frog had gone up into the intake side of the valve, maybe we could flush him out by turning on the big 2” mainline water valve. Good idea: I volunteered to be the guy that turned on the water, around the corner and 150 yards away. Jeff would be the guy to stay by the puddle and watch for the frog to come out.

So, up I went to the mainline valve and turned it on full blast as fast as I could (thinking this would surprise the frog and scare him out of the valve). I waited about 15 seconds, turned off the valve, then ran back around the corner of the townhouse in hopes that Jeff would give me the high-sign that we were Frog-Free.

No such luck, and Jeff was soaked to the gills from the big blast of water. After jogging back to ask Jeff if he was sure the frog hadn’t gotten blown out (maybe he missed the frog in the maelstrom of water that had gushed out of the pipe?!), he reported that he was certain he hadn’t missed the frog; ‘couldn’t I tell how closely he was watching be seeing how soaking wet he was???’

“Well OK”, I said, “Let’s try one more time, and as long as you’re all wet already, why don’t you stay here and watch and I’ll turn on the water again”. “John, I really don’t think it’s going to help to try this again. If we could flush him out, he would be flushed out already!” Jeff exclaimed. “Well geez Jeff”, I replied. “What if we put this whole valve back together and he gets all jammed up in there and we have to take the valve all apart again?” Jeff agreed, “Alright, one more try but let’s make it a good one. Keep the valve on for like 30 seconds or until I shout up to you that the frog is gone.”

So, up I went, turned on the water and went back around the corner to see how Jeff was doing. The water, with 65 PSI of pressure, was blowing up almost 10 feet in the air and cascading down all over Jeff. I’m sure over a hundred gallons of water came out during this second flushing, all over Jeff. This was quite a sight, and I wanted to laugh, but didn’t have the heart. After waiting almost half a minute I ran back and turned off the water valve.

I then returned to see how Jeff was doing; he wasn’t doing too well. He was really soaked now, and still no Bull Frog! We decided to put the valve back together and try it out.

At just about that time, the architect and owner sauntered up to us and asked how it was going; the architect said he had to leave in just a few minutes. “Well, we just about have ‘er fixed up”, I reported. “We found a piece of gravel in the valve and now Jeff here is putting the valve back together.” Jeff finished up re-assembling the automatic valve, I walked to the main valve, turned it on (and crossed my fingers).

The now reassembled valve turned on perfectly as we turned the zone valve on and off a number of times and all the sprinkler heads on that big zone operated just as they should. Then, with no warning, the heads all went to ½ pressure for about 2 seconds, then turned back on again – all but one sprinkler at the end of the line. At that point the architect and owner were satisfied when I told them we would fix that one last head, they signed off on the Final Punch List, congratulated us on a job well done and left.

After they disappeared around the corner, Jeff and I discussed different scenario’s as to why the sprinklers had lost pressure like that, and what the heck was wrong with that one last sprinkler head that wasn’t working at all? We took the sprinkler head apart and what do you think we found? The Bull Frog! He had gotten flushed through the workings of the automatic valve, washed along all the piping in the zone to the last sprinkler head and gotten smushed into the filter. Jeff and I couldn’t stop laughing. He was a soaking mess, and I wasn’t in much better shape with all the muddy water from trying to catch the Bull Frog. “And you had him by the toe and almost caught him!”, Jeff gasped. I had tears in my eyes from laughing, “Did you ever have Bull Frog by the toe Jeff?” I giggled. “They’re too slippery to hold on to!”

We have had many, many strange things happen to us over the years after installing thousands of underground, automatic Irrigation Systems (including the system at the Target Field). But that was the only time we had any problems with Bull Frogs. Thankfully!

I am proud to announce that Jeff Sutter is in his 30^th year at Mickman Brothers, and he is now our General Manager. It is professionals like Jeff that make our company the leader we are in each our respective industries.

We are proud to have Jeff on our team, as well as all the dozens of other dedicated professionals we have on board to assist our customers. And thank you Jeff of all your dedication, hard work and creative ideas that have helped shape our company (including how to flush a Bull Frog through an automatic irrigation valve!).

John S. Mickman
President

58 More Minutes - John S. Mickman

I worked for 10 years as a commercial fisherman in Alaska beginning in 1972. For most of those years I was a deckhand on the family owned boat, the F/V Marcy J. She was a 100 foot, steel hulled combination dragger and crabber. As a dragger, we were always one of the Highliner’s in the Kodiak Shrimp Fleet, able to bring in 250,000 pounds of shrimp per load; in our best trip, we loaded the boat in Deadman’s Bay at the south end of Kodiak Island in a day and a half. We were always successful fishing both Tanner Crab and King Crab too.

Life on the Marcy J was one of the most rewarding times of my life. We always had a great deck crew, led by my best buddy Chris Jones. Although he was unquestionably the leader of the deck crew, he led by example. There was no job that Chris wouldn’t tackle, from mending nets to swabbing out the hold after a shrimping trip. We use to sing old rock ‘n roll songs at the top of our lungs down in the hold because we thought we sounded just like artists did in their albums (not!). I’m certain that anyone listening thought we must be a couple shrimp short of a full shrimp cocktail.

Captain Harold Jones

Captain Harold Jones owned the Marcy J, and his sons, Chris and Tony fished with their dad during the first couple of years I was on board; the four of us made a fabulous crew. We all had our strong points and we filled out a very efficient team.

It was only by luck that I was able to get aboard the Marcy J. I had fished with Tony for one trip on an old, beat up dragger called the Pacific Pearl the year before. The Pacific Pearl sank the next year and 2 men of the 4 man crew were lost at sea. Tony’s and my friendship grew to the point that he asked me to crew on his dad’s new boat, the Marcy J, not long after it arrived in Kodiak in the Fall of ’73. I soon made fast friends with Tony’s brother Chris too. The three of us were all short and stocky and all were about the same age. Many people in Kodiak thought that maybe Harold and his wife Marcy had 3 sons instead of two.

But Harold was the ship’s Captain, and the Captain is the final word at sea, for a good reason. This was not a democracy, and although Harold would listen to our input on important decisions, he would always decide the best course for his ship and her crew. The system works well.

Harold is a man of honor and has a strict code of ethics. There was no alcohol on the boat and we had to watch our language when he was near. On deck, we spoke like seamen; around Harold we spoke like gentlemen. The other skippers in the fleet also respected Harold for his clear thinking and unabashed, direct way of making his points during discussions. Over all the years I fished with Captain Harold we had developed a close friendship, and I literally spent years up in the wheelhouse with Harold talking about virtually every topic imaginable. We told stories, discussed politics, religion, economics, fishing, hunting – everything. A mutual respect developed and to this day, 30 years later, I still value his friendship.

On opening day of the King Crab Season in 1980, we were 150 miles offshore in the Bering Sea, waiting until noon – the official ‘starting time’ for each Crab Season. The quota for the season was in tonnage, about 30 million pounds of King Crab. With over 150 boats in the fleet, we all wanted to get our share of crab. That morning we ate breakfast, chopped all the bait we were to need for the day, double checked the engine room, the lines, the hydraulic systems; by 11:00 o’clock, we were completely ready to start fishing.

Although there was a good sized ground swell left over from the last storm, the air was still and a dense fog had settled in around us. As Chris and I stood on deck, with all of our chores finished, we began talking about how we knew that the rest of the boats in the fleet were beginning to fish, in spite of the fact that they were supposed to wait until noon. We knew dozens of crewmen on other boats, and they all thought it was crazy that the Marcy J would actually wait until noon to even start to bait our crab pots. Many of the boats would actually be putting crab in their holds on opening day before noon. Enforcement is very strict now, but back then, there was really no one to enforce that part of the season - with hundreds of boats in the fleet and the whole ocean to patrol. Our competition would always ‘get the jump’ on us because they would start early.

Chris and I, well the whole crew really, were pretty well broke as the shrimp fishery had collapsed and we had made hardly any money since the previous winters’ Tanner Crab (Snow Crab) Season. As Chris and I talked, we decided that one of us should talk to Harold about starting to fish early too. I was elected to talk to the captain about it.

So, I went up to the wheelhouse and started making small talk with Harold, working my way into the conversation about starting to fish early. “Well Harold, I can’t believe how thick this fog is’, I began. ‘We can’t see even 50 yards into this pea soup fog”. “Yup”, Harold said, “and I don’t think it will lift any time soon either. There isn’t a breath of wind and the barometer hasn’t moved a notch for hours”. I walked over to the radar and took a look to see if there were any boats near us. “Look at that Harold” I commented, “the closest boat to us is over 20 miles out and moving away. No one is anywhere near us.” Harold replied, “It’s a big ocean but I’m surprised no one is fishing closer. This is the spot we had our great season last year. I know we’re sitting on top of huge school of crab just waiting to crawl into out crab pots.”

This was the opening I was waiting for, and I said, “Yeah, that’s what Chris and I were just talking about Harold. We’d sure like to start baiting this string of gear we are jogging on. The crab won’t crawl into our pots until we put bait in them. What do you think about starting to bait some pots?” Harold looked right at me, kind of cocked his head and said, “the season doesn’t begin for an hour yet; we’ll start baiting our pots at noon.’ I knew that was what he would say, and I was ready to lay out the new idea. “Yes I know Harold, but in this fog no one would see us and there are no boats close enough to get to us within an hour. No one could possibly know if we started baiting pots a little early. We won’t actually be fishing until we put some crabs in our hold. Surely starting to bait pots wouldn’t be so bad. No one will ever know!”

Then Harold spoke slowly, carefully, and looked right at me with a heartfelt gaze. I’ve never forgotten what he said, and I’ve tried to live my life according to this statement. “John”, he said, “You and I will know, and we are really the only ones that matter aren’t we.” He looked at his watch and said, “We will start baiting pots in 58 minutes, not one second earlier.” I looked back at Harold, and knew he was right.

The 1980 King Crab Season was one of the most successful seasons I ever fished. I had never made that much money in my life. Captain Harold Jones has more integrity in his little finger than most people have in their entire being. He has had good times, and some of the worst times of anyone I’ve ever known. But win or lose, Harold always did the right thing – because he would know. The world would be a better place if we all had more of Captain Harold Jones’ character.

As of this writing, Captain Harold Jones is in his late ‘80’s and still manages his beloved Marcy J. He is spry as a spring chicken and can hop around the boat like a young deck hand. My Captain still is not shy about letting you know if you’re doing something wrong - and when you’re doing something right. We should all be so lucky.

The Pacific Pearl Part 3 - John S Mickman

In Part II of 'The Pacific Pearl', Dick the skipper, Tony, and me were traveling toward the fishing grounds with high hopes of filling our hold with over 50,000 pounds of shrimp!

We 'ran' through the night, as Tony and Dick took turns 'watching the wheel'. Of course as an inexperienced crewman, I wasn't able to take a turn at the wheel and slept through the trip until we reached the outside of the 3 Sisters Islands, Northeast of Kodiak Island. We arrived at about 2:00 AM in the dark and I made breakfast. By 4:00, we were lined up on the spot for our first 'tow'.

Although there was only a slight Northwesterly breeze, the Pacific Pearl was rolling from side to side and pitching to and fro. Unfortunately, I had gotten pretty queasy in the stuffy galley while cooking and eating, with sea-sickness. By the time I went out on deck I was in poor shape; it was an awful feeling - and now I knew I needed to work, and work hard!

Tony explained the process of operating the huge winches (as I leaned against them for support!), one for each side of the large shrimp net. Dick got the boat up to the right speed and announced over the intercom to run the cables out to put the net down to the ocean floor. With Tony's guidance, the process went smoothly; we were fishing!

After about two hours, Dick told us it was time to lift the net up and see what we caught. This went well too, and although I was still nauseous from sea sickness - I was working. When we got the net to the surface, the 'caught end' of the net was dragging straight down into the water, loaded with shrimp. It took us 3 - 4 'splits' to get the 8,000 pounds of shrimp onboard and onto the deck. This done, we lowered the net back into the water and began washing the mud out of the shrimp and throwing the crushed, unwanted fish that were mixed in with the shrimp, overboard.

That done, Tony opened one of the small, round 'manhole cover' hatches, and we lowered ourselves into the dark, dank hold. "OK Hip Boot, you're going to be the Ice Man. This is a very important job, and if it isn't done right our whole load could rot", he explained. "What you need to do is to take this maddox and chop this ice that has frozen into one large ice cube, into flakes again. Then you'll use the snow shovel to mix it into the shrimp as they come through the aft manhole hatches. I'll be shoveling the shrimp down through the aft manholes. If I'm going too fast, tell me to wait."

"OK", I said. "Got it. I'll yell up when I'm ready". I hadn't told Tony I was sea sick, but I'm pretty sure he knew; I'm sure I looked green. Down in the hold, I became even more nauseous. After chopping up a bunch of ice, I yelled up to Tony that I was ready. Tony started shoveling shrimp through the manholes as I chopped and shoveled ice onto the shrimp as they poured through the portside, aft manhole.

Tony's timing was pretty good as I worked hard to keep up. However, my sea sickness was getting the best of me. Finally I yelled up, "Tony, stop for a minute!" just before I vomited all over the fresh, clean ice and rosy pink shrimp.  I had to brace myself as the boat rolled from side to side. I was dizzy, sick, weak and sweating profusely; I had never felt worse in my life.

"Are you OK down there Hip Boot? Do you need any help?", Tony yelled down through the hatch.

'Do I need help? I can hardly stand up!', I thought to myself. But, I couldn't give up. "No, I've got 'er Tony, just give me a minute more down here. I'll let you know when I'm ready." I was barely able to yell this up to Tony when I threw-up again. 'Gawd, this is awful', but I stood up, chopped through the now messy ice, and started dispersing it on the nice, clean, pink shrimp. "OK Tony, I'm ready. Let 'em fly", I yelled up with all my effort.

It took the better part of an hour to get all the shrimp into the hold and iced - one of the worse hours of my life. When I emerged into the bright sunshine through the small round manhole, I was exhausted. Tony placed the hatch-cover back on and secured it as I sat down and rested. Back on deck, everything seemed a lot better, and the fresh, salty air kind of revived me.

By the time we lifted the net up after our second tow, my sea sickness had gone away completely and I felt great and was starting to have fun. We fished all morning and into the afternoon, putting about 5 'tows' on deck and into the hold. We were really doing well and Dick was pleased. He invited me up into the Wheelhouse and explained the radar, depth finder, charts, etc. This was really interesting stuff.

Late in the afternoon, disaster struck; the thick cable which held the port side of the net, snapped apart as we were bringing the net to the surface. It took over an hour to finally get the net up and the shrimp on deck. This was hard, dangerous work, as all of us were worried about the strength of the starboard side cable; if that one snapped, we would lose the net and the broken cable could snap back and kill one of us as we worked with it off of the starboard side, stern davit of the Pacific Pearl.

After much effort, we finally got the net on board, the shrimp in the hold and iced down. Unfortunately, neither Tony nor Dick knew how to splice cable, and of course I was completely clueless. "Can't we use some big cable clamps Dick?", I offered.

"No way", he said. "We're out of business. We have to go back to Kodiak, unload, and get this cable fixed. This trip is over". We were all disappointed. Me, because my learning experience was being cut short, and Dick and Tony because we didn't have a full load yet.

 But, we did have close to a full load and besides the broken cable, the rest of the systems aboard the Pacific Pearl had worked perfectly. "Next trip we're going to knock 'em dead John", Tony said as we steamed back to Kodiak. "We must have about 40,000 pounds of shrimp. That's a pretty good payday for just one day of fishing!" He explained that since I was working for free, he and Dick would split my share. That meant he would make about 20% of $2,000 - 400 bucks! Tony continued. "The good news for you is that now you can say you have experience when you're looking for a job, which is the difference between night and day. You're sure to get a job on a boat now."

I knew he was right, and I was extremely happy that Tony and gotten me on the Pacific Pearl. Although I didn't have very much experience, I could honestly say to the skipper of any shrimp boat in the fleet, "Oh yeah, I have experience. I've fished with Dick on the Pacific Pearl!" -  I could just imagine myself confidently announcing to anyone that asked. This was the big break I had needed.

We arrived back in Kodiak late that night and I slept on the boat. The next morning, Tony invited me up to Sollies Bar & Grill for breakfast and he treated me. "You did good Hip Boot", he said. "I know a lot of guys, and I'll help you find a boat whenever we're back in town. I think Dick might help too", he said.

I enjoyed the free breakfast immensely. I was a fisherman!

At the end of that season, Dick sold the Pacific Pearl and Tony and Chris went with their dad, Captain Harold Jones to Mobile, Alabama where Harold had contracted a shipyard to build a brand new fishing boat - The Marcy J.

The very next season, the Pacific Pearl sunk in Shelikof Straights and 2 men were lost at sea; two more survived. Fleetingly I realized that if I had been aboard, I might have been one of the lost fishermen. But, I was young and strong; I'd never get hurt, I'd never die...

John Mickman (Hip Boot)

Deckhand

The Pacific Pearl Part 2 - John S Mickman

Last week in Part I of ' The Pacific Pearl', the shrimp strike had just ended and the entire fleet was preparing to go fishing. I needed a job, and the shrimp trawler, The Pacific Pearl, skippered by Dick, was one man short...

Tony, always very animated, said,  "Ok, here comes Dick. Are you ready John?".

"I don't know Tony. I guess we'll find out!", I replied. Dick jumped on board and confirmed with Tony that Chris wouldn't arrive until the next day.

"Well, were short a guy then Tony", he announced. "I knew this would happen. We need to go right now. Do you have any ideas?".

Tony replied, "Well, John here is ready to go right now Dick. I think we should take him."

Dick looked at me with a stern look. I had met Dick on a half dozen occasions and had been helping Tony get his boat ready for the past couple of weeks, for free. "You don't have a shred of experience John. This is tough work, and tricky. Do you think you can handle it?" he asked.

This was it; my big chance. "You're right Dick, I don't have any experience. But, you don't know anyone that is a harder worker or a faster learner. If you give me this chance you won't regret it. I really want to go out with you guys", I said as sincerely as I had ever spoken in my life. "Let's go fishing!"

Dick smiled and said, "Fire up the engines Tony. John, you straighten up the deck. I won't pay you for this first trip, but I'll give you the experience you need to get on another boat when Tony's brother Chris arrives. Fair enough?"

"You bet!", I exclaimed, and the three of us went to work. After the engines were warmed up, we threw off the lines, pulled out of the harbor and traveled over to the Ice Dock. One boat was already there getting ice, and we waited just off her stern securing our place in the rapidly growing line of shrimp boats.

When that first boat pulled away, we tied up to the dock and took off the big, square, water-tight hatch cover. The Ice Dock guy lowered the huge ice hose down through the open hatch. Tony and I jumped into the hold and he handed a large snow shovel to me and explained that he would 'guide' the ice hose as far into the bins as he could, but that I needed to shovel about twelve inches of ice into the bottom of the bins that he couldn't reach. We both worked hard at our tasks until we had enough 'bottom ice' in all the bins, then we just let the ice buildup in the holds' main bin until it was almost full to the top of the hatch.

As we worked, Tony explained, "When we're shrimping, we need to ice the shrimp so they don't rot. We'll need about 15 tons of ice that we have to mix in with the catch. If we run out of ice, we have to stop fishing so we need to make sure we have plenty." When Dick and Tony agreed we had enough ice, we secured the hatch, threw off the lines and headed out to sea. How exciting was this?!

By the time we left the bay, it was dinner time and I was designated as 'The Cook'. "Yes, I sure can cook Dick", I said. This wasn't a lie, although I really didn't have very many items in my repertoire. As a student, I had been pretty good at tuna fish sandwiches and Hamburger Helper meals. However, steak was what Dick wanted, and steak is what Dick got. They turned out pretty good too!

After dinner, as Dick guided the Pacific Pearl to the fishing grounds, Tony and I went on deck and he taught me the fine points of being a deck hand on a shrimp trawler. Along the way he told me that his shorter, rubber boots were actually better on a trawler than my hip boots. He suggested, "Most of the salmon seiners wear hip boots instead of these shorter ones. You should get different boots."

"Well Tony", I said, "I really like the way these boots feel and look. I don't really like the kind you're wearing.

Tony grinned back, the way that only Tony can grin, "Well that settles it then. Your nick name is 'Hip Boot'.  And it stuck...

In Part III of 'The Pacific Pearl' find out how a green-horn like me did as a professional shrimp fisherman!

The Pacific Pearl Part 1 - John S Mickman

This story is the continuing saga of my first trip to Kodiak, Alaska were I became a commercial shrimp and crab fisherman in the early 1970's.

Combined with the 'pin money' I had earned painting the interior of the house my buddy Tony would eventually buy, and after working on the Western Girl, the Halibut Schooner that I had helped unload and overhaul their 'skates' of gear,  I had almost $500. A fortune; my money problems were over for the time being. That issue out of the way, I continued my quest of getting a job on a fish boat from one of the vessels that fished out of Kodiak, Alaska. It was 1972, I was 21 years old and life was good.

The MV Pacific Pearl

My buddy Tony and I got to be better friends and most days I would visit him on the deck of the Pacific Pearl, the boat he worked on. We would talk about fishing and I met many more fishermen; it helped immensely having Tony with me in the harbor. We became a fixture in the Kodiak during those weeks. The Pacific Pearl was a 64' shrimp trawler that was kinda beat up, but Tony was happy to have a job. However, until the shrimp strike was over, he was working on the boat for free, painting, mending nets, working in the engine room, etc. I was helping, and learning.

The unified fishing canneries made a couple of offers to the fishermen in the Shrimp Association and although neither of us could vote, Tony and I attended each meeting to keep abreast of what was happening in these important negotiations. The Fishermen were asking 7 cents/pound for shrimp and the canneries were offering 3 1/2 cents per pound; they had been paying 2 cents during the previous season. Of course as the weeks went by, the canneries started coming up in their offers and the fishermen started coming down; everyone wanted to get to work.

At one of these meetings, the canneries offered 4 1/2 cents per pound and the consensus of the fishermen was that 'maybe we should just take it; we have boat payments to make'. Towards the end of this meeting, just before the vote was to be taken, one handsome, chiseled featured boat captain stood up, and with a booming voice, and great resolve he stated the case for waiting it out until we received at least 5 1/4 cents per pound. His oration was extremely convincing and as he talked I could see lots of nods and whispers agreeing with this well respected man.

The vote was taken right after the captain stated his case and the 4 cent offer was voted down; the strike would continue. I commented to Tony that the captain that had swayed the room had delivered an amazing speech; he had taken control of the room of more than 100 independent men. "That's my dad, Harold Jones", Tony said. "Do you want to meet him?"

"Well sure Tony", I replied. "How come I've never met him before?"

Tony smiled back at me, "My dad runs a big dragger called The Tradewinds. She is a big, Herring Seiner type boat from down the coast off of California. They just arrived with the boat a few days ago", Tony explained.

"How come you're not going to go fishing with your dad?", I asked.

"He has a crew already that worked for a long time in Seattle getting the boat ready and he has a full crew with those guys. If one of them quits or gets hurt, either my brother Chris or I will probably get onboard", Tony replied. Brother Chris was down in Port Angeles, Washington working on a construction crew waiting for the strike to end before he came up to Kodiak. He and Tony were to be the crewmen on the Pacific Pearl.

We went over to meet Captain Harold Jones and were able to talk for couple of minutes, but he was in a gaggle of other skippers talking about the strike, so Tony and I wandered off. A few days later, a buzz went up through the shrimp fleet that the canneries were going to make better offer; everyone was heading up to the town hall to hear the offer and vote.

The president of the Shrimp Assoc. announced that the canneries were offering 5 1/4 cents; 5 cents for the fishermen and a 1/4 cent going the fund the new association. Once again, Harold stood up and said that he thought this was an acceptable offer. The president called for a vote and it was unanimous; the strike was over!

Immediately after the vote, the room cleared as all the fishermen headed to the harbor to leave for the fishing grounds. The race was on!

As Tony and I walked briskly toward the harbor I asked Tony what he thought I should do. "You have to get to your house, get your gear and get down to the harbor, right now", Tony exclaimed. "All these skippers are going to leave the harbor and head to the ice dock to take on ice on their way out to the fishing grounds. If any of their crewmen don't show up, anyone standing there is likely to get a job!"

"Holy Smokes, Tony", I said as I cut-off in the other direction to Paul's house. "I'll see you down there in 15 minutes!" I stopped the walking, and ran to the house, threw a bunch of clothes in my backpack and high-tailed it down to the harbor.

The scene at the harbor was bedlam, as the skippers and crewmen were making last minute provisioning to their boats. Fishermen were all over the dock, the boats, marine hardware stores, and the grocery stores were already making 'standing order' deliveries of groceries to the boats tied up in the harbor. This was exciting!!!

Of course I was wearing my hip boots and asked everyone I saw if they were looking for a deck-hand. A few replied with the question, "Maybe. Do you have any experience?". I didn't, and did not receive any job offers.

The Pacific Pearl was tied up on the last dock 'finger', about halfway down the dock, and when I got to her, Tony was standing on deck jumping up and down waving for me. "John, I called my brother Chris and he won't be up here until tomorrow. Dick the skipper wants to leave right now and he's out trying to find a second deckhand so we can go fishing. You need to wait on deck with me; if he can't find anyone I think he might take you!"

"Geez Tony, I can't believe it. Really?", I said.

"I don't know for sure, but the first boat to the Ice Dock gets loaded and out to the fishing grounds first. He might take you. I know he likes you, and if he can't find an experienced guy right away, I told him you'd be down here in a few minutes. We'll just have to wait and see", Tony explained.

I could hardly breathe I was so excited. Peering through all the boat riggings we finally spotted Dick, rapidly walking along the dock toward the Pacific Pearl.  Alone.

Next week in 'The Pacific Pearl' Part II, find out if Dick hired me as a crewman.

John Mickman