July 8, 1905.] 
FORESt AND StREAM 
SS 
had been the strain that the line had sunk into the coil 
and clogged; Jiuman power could not move it. Imagine 
the situation; its horrors! Walton might have sighed 
and quoted Culpam poena premit comes, believing that he 
deserved it for attempting to kill so game a fish. But 
my boatman was not of this timber, far from it. He 
swore in vigorous English; he conjured all the gods in 
many tongues; he rose to the occasion, while I breath- 
less, winded — but this is not a confesional, only the 
log of a lucky sea angler whO' proposes “Credo quia im- 
possibile est,” as the motto of sea anglers, for it was the 
impossible that happed. My last rally had demoralized 
the tuna, which swam slowly around, giving me time to 
hold the rod and overrun the reel several yards and 
reel it in again, and again the tuna began to come in. 
It reached the quarter, and as it was slightly tipped 
upward, I saw again the full outline of its splendid 
proportions against the blue water; then my boatman 
gaffed it. 
Exactly what happened, no one knows, but the big 
gaff pole splintered in his hands at the tremendous 
bounds of the fish, and the tuna took fifty feet of line 
before I could stop it. Keyed up to the highest degree 
of excitement, I reeled vigorously, and in a few 
moments again had the tuna near the quarter, and 
held it while Gardner gave it the conge. The gaff 
slipped beneath it; a jerk, a struggle which enveloped 
gaffer and angler in foam and spray and flying scud, 
and the big head was held a moment hard against the 
rail, I standing with shortened line ready for the rush 
that might come, the gaffer grim, blinded with spray, 
his arms jerked beyond endurance. But the game was 
ours, the splendid creature in silver and yellow hung 
quivering as we stepped on the rail, bringing it down to 
the water’s edge, and Gardner slid the tuna in, where 
it beat the boards with such ponderous blows that I 
fancied that it might stave the craft, while we doffed 
our hats and gave a rousing cheer over the victory. 
At this time, it was not supposed possible to take so 
active a fish with rod and reel and a 21-threat Cutty- 
hunk line; consequently the catch of 183 pounds was a 
notable one, and it was this fish, and the unsportsman- 
like conditions of fishing at the island which caused me 
to suggest the Tuna Club. The splendid fishes of the 
region, yellowtail, white sea bass and others, were 
being slaughtered by the ton. I had seen boats go 
out with, five or six hand-lines rigged out astern, and 
return with forty or more fish none less than 15 pounds, 
running up to 25, each with the game qualities of a 
salmon. It was a shameful sight, as most of these 
fishes were fed to the sea lions and sharks. How to 
stop it was the question, and I conceived the idea of 
an appeal to the innate sense of fair play that is found 
among fishermen. I suggested the Tuna Club, “for 
the protection of the game fishes of Southern Cali- 
fornia,” and a constitution and by-laws that would 
permit only the use of lines up to 24-thread and light 
rods, and conditions that every angler must land his 
own fish. Some of the best-known anglers in the 
country joined the club, and I was honored with the 
presidency. The result was remarkable. The example 
of these gentlemen was so potent that hand-lines were 
abolished, and I doubt if one can be found in use at 
Santa Catalina to-day. The boatmen will not permit 
their use, as it disqualifies their patrons from the 
prizes of the Tuna Club tournaments and records. With 
a rope-like hand-line, a 25-pound yellowtail can be 
landed in a minute or two; but with a rod and thread- 
like line, from .9 to 21, it is a matter of fifteen or twenty 
minutes, and 50 per cent, of the game escapes. Thus 
overfishing is practically impossible, and much more 
sport is obtained. The result is that to-day the waste 
of these fine game fishes is practically stopped. 
To further still emphasize and make popular rod 
fishing, I suggested an annual angling tournament, to 
begin May i and end Oct i, offering valuable prizes of 
rods and tackle, medals and cups in various classes to 
anglers who took the largest fishes of various kinds 
with the light rods and fine lines specified by the by- 
laws of the Tuna Club; and that few, if any, of the 
thousands who fish at Santa Catalina to-day take any 
of the game fishes found here unfairly or in any man- 
ner other than one that appeals to the highest sports- 
manlike feeling, shows what the combined influence of 
anglers can accomplish. Nowhere in the world does a 
higher standard of sport hold than on the tuna grounds 
of Southern California. It happened that it was my 
suggestion as far back as 1886, that a tuna could be 
taken with a rod, and I was often laughed at for sug- 
gesting it, and while I did not take_ the _ first tuna, I 
took the first large one — a fish which in vigor and 
virility I would match against any tarpon it has been 
my good fortune to hook. I have never seen a tarpon 
that I could not kill in thirty minutes by continuous 
.fighting, though I believe there are such fish; yet this 
tuna fought me four hours, towed a _ heavy boat, an 
engine and two men ten or twelve miles, the oars of 
the boatman being held against it, and sometimes 
pulled, to prevent the fish from towing us out to sea. 
There have been larger tunas taken since, but I venture 
to say that none of them when fairly hooked as this 
fish was, made a better fight. Size, in my belief at 
least, does not indicate fighting qualities. The hard- 
fighting tunas are the medium-sized fishes, and this 
holds with tarpon, amberjack, yellowtail, and others. 
I have taken yellowtails up to 45 pounds, but a certain 
17-pounder gave me more trouble than all the giants. 
The account of the catch of the big tuna created 
much excitement, and as we rowed into Avalon to 
weigh the fish, the little town came down to give us 
welcome. Late in the afternoon I strolled down to the 
rock where a crowd of people were still admiring the 
big fish, and some young women, descendants _ of 
Ananias, bravely having their pictures taken standing 
by its side, rod in hand. Jim was rehearsing the catch, 
and a tenderfoot was listening with bulging eyes at the 
yarn, not even questioning the fact that the tuna towed 
the boat forty miles and leaped fifty feet into the air. 
Among the observers were reporters and correspond- 
ents, and I later saw myself pictured playing this leap- 
ing tuna — at least thirty feet in air. Another account 
in a magazine pictured me calmly swimming and play- 
ing the tuna. The Associated Press telegraphed the 
story all over the world, and the members of the 
peaceful sea anglers association in London received 
the account the next morning in the papers and mar- 
veled at the big things in America. 
As the tunas continued biting, we have devoted our- 
selves to this sport, and I find that about one tuna is 
taken for every twenty strikes. Newcomers — and they 
are here from various parts of the world — alrnost in- 
variably miss the fish, due, I believe to excitement. 
They strike too quickly, or not quickly enough, and 
miss the psychological moment. I have fished with a 
number of anglers, or watched them, and having been 
in the toils myself, worn, as General Gordon said in 
one of his fights, “to a frazzle,” hence could enjoy 
the trouble of other victims. Yesterday I was a guest 
on a friend’s launch, and stood in the bow, where I 
could see the tunaS coming up astern. Evidently they 
would see the bait thirty feet distant, and two would 
charge it on the run; their fins, near the surface, often 
tossing the water high in air. I would notify the 
angler, then would come the strike — zip ze-e-e! and that 
there is tuna fever as well as the buck variety goes 
without saying. I noticed one young angler who be- 
came so nervous that he could not face the stern, could 
not watch the tuna as it came racing at him; so he 
turned back to, and as I shouted, “Here he comes!” 
he would turn all kinds of colors and strike, and the 
fish would pass on with fifty feet of line in tow. 
Tuna fishing has an element of danger. I saw a man 
brought in this afternoon almost in a state of collapse, 
and he was assisted to his room at .the hotel; the tuna 
had been caught, but had laid him low. Before the 
victim recovered, he was waited on by a committee of 
the Tuna Club, who presented him with the little blue 
button of the club, that certified that the wearer had 
taken fairly with rod and reel and 24-thread line or 
less, a lOO-pound tuna. The committee reported that 
this did more to revive him than the physician, who 
fortunately was his partner on the trip. 
Last night I was trolling for tunas near the rocks 
with Col. Morehouse, whi-.i, just ac dusk, the tunas 
dashed in, chasing a large school of flying fishes, which 
rose all about us, some going over the boat, one strik- 
ing me under the ear, so nearly knocking me out of 
my seat that Gardner, the gaffer and boatman, caught 
me. I had my revenge. Gardner hooked on the fresh 
bait that had selected me as a target, and I had a 
strike a few minutes later, but lost the fish. 
Tuna fishing may be followed up to 8 o’clock at 
night with success, but later the fishes see the line, 
due to the remarkable phosphorescence; at least the 
biting stops when the phosphorescence is at its max- 
imum display. The spectacle of large tunas dashing 
through this liquid fire is a marvelous one. Every 
motion is a blaze of light, and in Avalon Bay from 
the topmast the sight was one to be remembered. 
[to be continued.] 
Lake Hopatcong Fishing Association* 
The fishing at Lake Hop&tcong has been getting poorer 
and poorer every year, owing to the Fish Commissioners 
failing to stock same, and no one else taking an interest 
in it. The property owners and inhabitants around the 
lake have decided to form a club, to be known as the 
Hopatcong Fishing Association, the object of which 
is to either buy fish for stocking purposes, or to start a 
hatchery. They have an idea that by starting a small 
hatchery at the lower end of the lake, where the water 
runs into the Rockaway River, that they can secure 
enough fish to stock the lake with little expense. A 
meeting was held at the summer home of Mr. W. _ C. 
Hespy, on Saturday night, June 24, and an organization 
effected, Mr. Salto was elected president, E. C. Ross 
vice-president, G. Reinberg secretary and W. C. Hespy 
treasurer. The sportsman element was well represented 
and the outlook is promising. The dues will be $10 a 
year without any initiation, and the membership is ex- 
pected to reach 100 at least. 
Most of the people frequenting the lake as well as prop- 
erty owners, are very enthusiastic over the plan, and it is 
believed that great good will come therefrom. An effort 
will be made to induce the next session of the Legisla- 
ture to change the fishing law, which is now open May 
20, to not earlier than June 15, as all fishermen report 
that what bass they are taking are full of spawn, and it 
is believed this early fishing and fishing through the ice 
has done much to deplete the fish in this lake. 
It is to be regretted that the Fish Commissioners have 
not taken more interest in keeping this lake stocked, as 
it is the prettiest spot within 100 miles of New York, 
lying, as it does, in the mountains at an elevation of 986 
feet above the ocean, and within an hour’s ride of New 
York. The lake is about sixty-three miles in circum- 
ference and has a great many beautiful homes erected on 
its shores, and the water is pure spring water and prob- 
ably the best adapted to the raising of bass of any in 
this locality. 
A Telephone Fishing Appliance. 
An English paper reports that a Norwegian has in- 
vented a telephone by which the noise made by fish in 
the depths of the sea can be heard. The instrument con- 
sists of a microphone in a hermetically sealed steel box. 
It is connected with a telephone on shipboard by electric 
wires, each sound in the water being intensified by the 
microphone. The inventor asserts that with its aid the 
presence of fish, and approximately their number and 
kind, can be recognized. When herrings or smaller fish 
are encountered in large numbers they make a whistling 
noise, and the sound made by codfish is more like howl- 
ing. If they come near the submarine telephone their 
motion can be distinguished. The flow of water through 
the gills produces a noise similar to the labored breath- 
ing of a quadruped, and the motion of the fins produces 
a dull rolling sound. — Richard Guenther, Consul-General, 
Frankfort, Germany, May I 5 , 1905. 
All communications for Forest and Stream must be 
directed to Forest and Stream Pub. Co., New York, to 
receive attention. We have no other office. 
The Joke was on the Joker. 
“It was early in June,” said the story-teller of the 
party, “and the bluefish had not begun to run from the 
outside. Several wagers had been made as to who would 
land the first bluefish of the season, and we were all on 
the qui vive. 
“It chanced one fine morning that a number of us de- 
cided to go for a sail on the bay, the party including a 
well known Scotch member of the club familiarly known 
at ‘Hot Scotch,’ and a prominent German physician 
dubbed by his fun-loving associates as ‘that fool Dutch- 
man,’ and many were the jokes played at his expense, 
particularly by his Highland friend. 
“On this particular occasion, however, the ‘Dutchman’ 
turned the tables on ‘Hot Scotch’ in a way ever to be 
remembered. After sailing about a bit, several lines were 
thrown out in the hope of luring the first bluefish. The 
Scotchman, ever on the alert for mischief, seized on what 
he thought was a favorable opportunity to play a joke, 
and quietly hauling in the ‘Dutchman’s’ line, fastened to it 
an Apollinaris bottle about ten feet from the spoon, giv- 
ing the line a smart jerk as he let go. 
“ ‘There, you Dutchman, you’ve got a bite,’ he cried. 
The latter, unobserved, had watched the whole proceed- 
ing, and said not a word. A moment later, however, he 
cried out that he had a fish on his line, and promptly ac- 
cepted the Scotchman’s derisive wager of $10 to the cap- 
tain of the boat and a wine supper for the crowd that 
such wasn’t the case. Then we all smilingly awaited his 
discomfiture. 
“When he hauled in the line, however, we were all as- 
tonished to discover a fine bluefish — the first of the season 
■ — well hooked, and to see its captor fairly bursting with 
laughter. He had felt the fish hooked almost the instant 
that his line, with the bottle attached, was cast back into 
the water. 
“Needless to say, our German friend won every wager 
tn the event and has since been looked upon by his fish- 
gig comrades as a man never again tO' be trifled with.” 
P. 
The Arbutus Lake Park Trout Waters. 
Newcomb, N. Y., June 26.- — The other day I had the 
pleasure of visiting the preserve of Archer M. Hunting- 
ton, known as Arbutus Lake Park Preserve, situated in 
the town of Newcomb, county of Essex. The camps, 
superb in every particular, aiid most beautiful beyond de- 
scription, are on the north shore of Lake Arbutus, one of 
the most beautiful lakes in the whole Adirondacks. While 
roaming over his vast domain one day last season Mr. 
Huntington chanced upon a small brooklet filled with 
speckled trout, and the thought came to him that the 
habitation of the trout might be materially improved. He 
thereupon engaged a noted surveyor and soon ascertained 
to his great delight that his theories were well founded. 
A large force of men were engaged during the winter, 
the brush, shrubbery and old logs were removed and 
burned. A beautiful road was built, ten dams were 
erected, and the result is to-day that there are ten most 
beautiful lakes, vieing in beauty with nature’s own pro- 
ductions and not distinguishable from them, which seem 
to have grown up like a mushroom in the night time. 
When Mr. Huntington again visits his preserve and sees 
the beautiful improvements that have been made, he will 
find that his ideas have happily materialized, and that he 
is the fortunate possessor of an earthly paradise. 
Mr. Huntington has shown a way by which the whole 
Adirondacks may be clothed here and there with arti- 
ficial lakes, enhancing their beauty and giving unlimited 
fishing grounds. C. A. Bissell. 
Trout and Black Bass Near New York. 
Recent reports from points on the Erie railroad and 
branches, including the New York, Susquehanna & West- 
ern R. R., and Wilkes-Barre & Eastern R. R., concerning 
trout and bass fishing give the following records: Trout 
— at Woodbury, N. Y., eighteen were taken in one day in 
Woodbury Falls Creek, the largest weighing a pound, and 
the lot averaging ^ pound. In Shohola Brook and Half- 
way Brook at Shohola, Pa., there were catches of twelve 
and sixteen, the largest a pound and the average 
pound. In Boushoux Creek, at Lordville, one angler took 
twenty-five, averaging 5.-2 pound, the largest a pound; and 
in Sands Creek, at Hancock, the best day’s score was of 
twenty-nine running on the average of yi pound. 
Bass fishing has been good at Greenwood Lake, Ster- 
ling Forest station ; in Mombasha Lake, at Monroe, N. 
Y. From Twin Lakes, at Parker’s Glen, Pa., the biggest 
fish taken was pounds, and twenty averaged 
pounds. Narrowsburg, Lordville and Hawkins, N. Y., 
report good catches from the Delaware River. 
Canadian Trout Fishing. 
Montreal. — There is no brook trout that will bear 
comparison with those to be caught in Lake Superior, 
and the streams running therein. The best trout section 
that I have been able to hear of nearer than that is in 
Otter township, near the Mississagua River, where the 
surveyors said that in every lake and stream brook trout 
were to be found. I have fished the bass lakes south of 
there, and know them to afford phenomenally good fish- 
ing. There is also good brook trout fishing on the 
Menjamagosippi River running into the Timagami Lake 
system. That, however, is pretty far back. The nearest 
all-rail route to good trout fishing is from Nemegos 
Station. That, however, is considerably more than 100 
miles from Toronto. L. O. Armstrong. 
The Fly in the Ointment. 
Perth Amboy, N. Editor Forest and Stream: ' In 
your issue of July i is a very readable story entitled “We 
Three in Canada.” Attention is called to it editorially, 
at the top of the cover, as “An Unique Outing.” And yet 
the writer calls brook trout “speckled beauties.” 
Goshallfishhooks ! Is there anything unique about 
that} I certainly thought that that threadbare abomina- 
tion, with some others, had been long ago placed upon 
your index expur gatorius. Am I wrong? J. L. ^ 
