Canarsie Pier

At a fish fry given by the folks from A&S for the winners in one of their summer fishing contests in Prospect Park Lake, parents invited too, my father always enjoying being with not only me but my friends, I was given a prize of an Ocean City baitcasting reel and solid glass rod. I used it to catch my first fish in salt water at Canarsie Pier, one of the better from-shore fishing spots in the New York City area.

The pier, more a huge bulkhead, for I never saw any boats tying up to it although there were huge smooth dark metal stanchions at each side for lines that could be used to move a tugboat in, the pier provided parking, rest rooms, a snack bar, and fishing, no charge for the facilities, parking, or fishing. There was a stretch when my father went fishing twice a week, having purchased a short boat rod and reel not at all suitable for casting, although he did hurl sinker and bait out some ninety feet or so without a backlash.

One day he brought home a mess of porgies from a solo trip. (My sons have let their dad go forth on far more solo fishing trips as they grew up.) I was impressed by my father's catch that day. He had started out at Canarsie Pier and a colored man had told him that the fish were running someplace else, perhaps, but he didn't have a car to get there. My father did and they both caught fish.

I, however, could not catch fish in salt water, at least not for my first year of so of fishing there. But with my new rod and reel from my freshwater exploits and with some heavenly aid, I succeeded. We had gone out early and at the pier it seemed that a lot of porgies were being caught. We baited our hooks with bloodworms, less like to bite than the more offense-minded sandworms, and I flipped my pyramid sinker out with a plastic sleeve above the sinker to hold the baited hook away from the line. I placed the rod in a drain hole next to the bulkhead and waited.

The rod bent suddenly toward the water and stayed bent. Maybe this was my first salt water fish? Is that important to anyone but me? But it was, and as I lifted the rod and started reeling I was saying Hail Mary's on Canarsie Pier that the fish would not get off. Unlike Hemingway's Santiago, my prayers were rewarded. I lifted the fish in triumph and even caught another one. How many other lifetime engagements started at Canarsie Pier or Prospect Park Lake? Brooklyn may not have produced hunters in as great numbers, but a boy could learn to fish in Brooklyn.

I should mention the man with the basket of tackle who came around to the pier to sell hooks, sinkers, mostly, but probably a lot of the other lures and gadgets that fishermen everywhere thrive on. His basket was made of wicker, I believe, with all sorts of pouches and pockets.

One day in late summer, with the tide running fast, a man was catching snapper blues one after another with a line that seemed to consist of a series of metal reflectors. The fisherman in quest of his quarry is always into gadgets, or, at least good tackle, fresh bait, and Hail Mary's.