You might find this story hard to believe, a “Tall Tale” or an embellished fish story, but it’s actually true.  I should know since I was there more than 50 years ago!

On an early spring day back in the late 1960s while a student at St. Joe’s College, now Saint Joseph’s University, I decided to go fishing in New Jersey for winter flounder with a classmate of mine named Dave, along with a Jesuit priest named Fr. Jim.  We left from “Hawk Hill”, the campus of St. Joe’s, very early and headed for South Jersey.  After about an hour and a half, we pulled into Captain Andy’s Marina Amherst Avenue by the back bay in Margate, where standing behind the counter was a big man with a Louisiana drawl named Ralph Stork, who just so happened to own the place.

Outside the back door was the dock with a bunch of tied up wooden fishing boats powered by small outboard engines. We told Ralph that we’d like to go fishing and asked him if the fish were biting.  He pulled out a map, placed an X and said, “you’re here.”  He then drew a wandering line through the back bay of Margate between sod banks and wetlands and under the Margate Bridge to our final destination, a partially sunken old barge, where he placed a second X.

Then Ralph proclaimed, “You’ll need four dozen bloodworms, these hooks and sinkers, and chum for the chum pot.  You’re going to catch over a hundred winter flounder, your arms will be so tired from reeling in so many fish and you’ll run out of bloodworms before you come back!”  There was rather stunned silence followed by a chuckle!

Ralph led us out the back and down the dock to one of the boats where he showed us how to yank the cord to get the engine started, then adjusting the throttle and ow steer the boat with the tiller arm.  We boarded our small rental boat with all our gear including the four dozen bloodworms and headed for X marks near the partially sunken barge.

It was great being on the water, the smell of the salt air and the sight of seagulls, flying above, and a solitary graceful egret standing by the sod bank near the water’s edge ready to ambush its prey.  There wasn’t much boat traffic in the back bay this early in the spring, and after about 15 to 20 minutes we could see the partially sunken barge up ahead just as Ralph had described. While the early morning temperature started off a bit chilly, it wasn’t long before the bright sun began to warm things up a bit. We tossed the anchor adjacent to the barge and lowered and raised the chum pot several times stirring up the muddy bottom of the back bay and creating the chum slick in hopes of attracting the fish.

After tying on our rigs and sinkers, baiting our hooks with the bloodworms, we dropped our lines overboard anxious to see if Ralph’s prediction would come true!  It didn’t take long for the chum slick to start working.  Immediately the bite was on with one fish after the other hooked and hitting the deck.  It was like that all day long, non-stop action.  As hard as it might be for some to believe but there were no limits back then!  We kept some for dinner and threw many of them back.  And Ralph was right, we did use up all the bloodworms before pulling the anchor and returning to Captain Andy’s earlier than planned.

It was a day filled with memories, spent with two good friends, sharing the beauty of nature and the joy of fishing.  As we started the engine and headed back to the marina, Fr. Jim, the Jesuit priest, said to me, “That Ralph is quite a guy.  When I get back to the dock, I’m going to ask him if there is a God!”

Amen!

Dedicated to the memory of Father Jim, SJ.