Events

A Fisherman and a Restaurant

The Anderson family of Morro Bay is a big part of Morro Bay’s fishing community and waterfront history. The restaurant that Bud and Rita Anderson bought in 1964 from long time fisherman Bill Wilson had a fish market too. After the Anderson’s made it a restaurant only, the Galley, they always continued to buy fresh fish from the local fishermen as much as possible, and were friends with a lot of them for many years. Bud passed in 2018 and Rita in 2020, both at age 93 and married over 70 years. Their children, Rodger, Jeff and Mollie lease the restaurant and run the adjacent Anderson Inn. Rodger recently gave us some information about the early days of the restaurant; 

  A Morro Bay Fisherman from the past was Bill Wilson. He  “hook and lined” for rockfish in his Monterey Clipper style boat for many years, mostly in the 1950’s through the 70’s. It was a small boat but Bill did mighty things with it. He made his living and built his wife Florence and him a house on the waterfront, along with a fish market which would later become the famous Galley restaurant.

 As one of the first leaseholders on Morro Bay’s waterfront, Bill and Florence lived in the single story place they built and unloaded fish on the dock which was there. Later, using surplus 4X4 lumber when PG&E was being built, they added a second level where they lived and used the original single level as their Bayshore Fish Market and sold seafood in a take-out window as well.

 Bud and Rita Anderson bought the place from Bill and Florence Wilson in 1964 and added on to the original building, opening the Galley Restaurant in 1966. They kept the fish market going for a few years, but the main business was a restaurant. As Rodger Anderson said, “Bill had a fish market with a restaurant on the side and my Dad made it a restaurant with a fish market on the side.” Later, Bud and Rita  made it a restaurant only, but continued to serve fresh, local fish  which helped to make the Galley restaurant the famous place it became.

Everyone on the waterfront knew when Bill was coming and going from fishing trips from the slow Chug Chug sound of his old Hicks engine, a one cylinder, 8 HP that powered his boat, the “Lucky Boy”. Like some fishermen from the past, Bill didn’t have electronics to guide him to his fishing spots. He used time and compass and sometimes land marks if it wasn’t foggy. He used large rocks for sinkers for his long lines with many hooks to catch rockfish and pulled them from 300 to 400 feet by hand. He did well enough to build a successful fish market on the waterfront and later retired to a nice place just inland of Morro Bay on Highway 41.

Bill and Florence Wilson moved out to an old ranch house on Highway 41 just a few miles inland from Morro Bay. When Bill retired from a long life of fishing, he had his boat the Lucky Boy brought out to his ranch to retire with him.

 A Little Abalone History

Abalone processor Edith Pierce was a fixture on the Morro Bay waterfront, her tireless efforts fascinated countless tourists for hours on end. When not handling someone’s dinner, Pierce was infamous for always having a cigar in her lips.

 Edward Romero Pierce, a gold miner, and his brother Walter homesteaded between Morro Bay and Atascadero along what today is Highway 41. In the 1920’s, Edward’s son, Bill Pierce, wandered over to Morro Bay and began shore picking abalone from rocks exposed at low tide, selling them to early processors such as the San Luis Fish Co. who iced and shipped the product to San Francisco’s restaurants. Before long, Bill was diving from a boat and Pierce Brothers abalone processing shop was in operation in downtown Morro Bay. Joining him in the highly successful business venture were his brothers Les, A.R. (Dutch), Charlie, Eddie, and Walter (Duke). Bill Pierce is credited with founding the abalone industry in Morro Bay.

 By 1933 a number of Bill Pierce’s cousins were also employed in the abalone industry. Shown here is Edith Pierce, the only daughter of Walter and Annie (Kester) Pierce. In addition, her brothers Ferree (Cougar), Carl (Boog), Tom, Chester (Bob), Raymond Walter (Blub), and William (Whimpy) were all involved in abalone, either processing them, diving, working on boats or deckhands.

The picture is the  mid 1970’s in Chuck Sites’ abalone processing shop  in the same building which today houses Tognazzini’s Dockside Restaurant, at 1245 Embarcadero in Morro Bay. The shell chimes hanging in the windows reminded Sissy Sites ( Chuck’s late daughter ) that her mother was the one to suggest adding the shells and other trinkets to sell to the tourists who regularly lined the windows to watch abalone being processed. Eventually this suggestion grew into a chain of eight shell and shirt shops along the Central Coast. Currently, Chuck Sites has The Shirt Shop on the waterfront in Morro Bay.

 A Travis Evans Story 

During Travis Evans lifetime of fishing, he has worked many different boats and fisheries. He also has had many experiences, thus stories to tell. This is just one of Travis’s experiences that he told a reporter for a local newspaper many years ago.

In 1961, Travis Evans was headed from Morro Bay south to Los Angeles on his boat, the Golden Rule, when the recently repaired boat lost its rudder, Travis knew how to steer without using the rudder but thought he could go in at Cojo Bay and wait until the next day to go on to Los Angeles.

When the ocean grew progressively rough, it became obvious that he could not go even the few miles to that bay; he decided that he would let the boat drift until daybreak. He lay down on the deck and went to sleep.

A few hours later he awoke to find the boat in the breakers rolling toward the shore. Even after more than a decade of working as a commercial fisherman, this was a frightening experience. His faith in a loving God led him to ask, “God, what do I do now?” You see, Travis could not swim.Putting on a life jacket seemed to come as the answer to that question.

The boat broke apart as it rolled in on the breakers. Lying on the sand, Travis wondered about important items he needed. His dentures were in a cup in a cabinet and he really needed them badly. The cabin tore loose from the hull of the boat and landed nearby. Travis reached out and found the cup and his dentures. He calmly rinsed them in salt water and put them in his mouth.

On top of the cabinet he found his direction finder. This was before the days of GPS equipment. The instrument seemed to be unharmed, so he picked it up and carried it uphill, set it down beside the railroad tracks where he retrieved it weeks later.

The unfamiliar area was isolated and mostly uninhabited. The Air Force had leased much of the surrounding area from the Bixby Ranch. Thinking that there had to be people somewhere in the area, Travis started walking away from the ocean. His soggy tennis shoes squished when he walked and the sun dried the salt on his skin but he was determined to find someone who would help him.

About five miles from his broken Golden Rule, he came to a farmhouse. Stopping at a barn and washing himself a bit in a watering trough, rinsing salt water from his dentures, and trying to make himself a bit presentable, he made his way toward the house.

He could hear a lawn mower on the other side of the house. Waiting until the mower stopped to refuel, he yelled, “Anybody home?” A woman appeared from behind the house. He told her that his boat had crashed on the beach and he needed to call his wife to come and get him.

Mary Smith helped Travis call his wife, Kathryn, and offered to prepare something for them to eat while waiting for her arrival. Sitting down to eat lunch, Travis asked if it would be OK if he prayed before they ate. Mary said it was OK with her. As they ate, Travis shared his story about how God had cared for and protected him through all of his many and varied experiences.

One of those experiences involved hauling in a 12-foot long, 82-pound squid in his fishing nets. Disney sent a team to measure and photograph the giant squid which they used as a model for the movie, “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.”

Another memorable experience involved guiding Bible study and worship experiences for fishing crews scattered over many miles of open ocean. It seems that hundreds of fishing boats often spend the nighttime hours drifting until it is time to work at their tasks of hauling in their nets. Using Citizen’s Band Radio, they were able to communicate with one another although separated by many miles.

These are a few of the things I know about Capt. Travis Evans; but there is so very much more. In the words of one of his many poems, he says it like this:

We gaze out on the ocean as we walk along the shore.

We can see the far horizon, but beyond there is so much more.

And in all of creation in nature’s treasure store.

Beyond our wildest imagination, there is so very much more.

It is also true of God’s love as He beckons from yonder shore,

With forgiveness, mercy, grace, peace and rest,

And so very, very much more.

So this vigorous, loving, talented, resourceful, busy 88-year-old lives his life doing what he does best: loving and serving his God and all the people he meets, fishing each day that he can, and writing poems, and caring for his family.

That is Capt. Travis Evans.

Lompoc Record, January 10, 2010.

A Central Coast Women for Fisheries member,  Vivian Bartello, passed on November 13, 2024 at 87. She was a well-loved,  long time Morro Bay resident and a generous spirit who gave service to her community. She was a commercial fisherman in her younger years, fishing with her husband Sam Bartello on the vessels  Twenty Grand and Tiberius Sea. At one time they also fished the vessels Sea Bird and Liguria. One of their targets was white sea bass and Sam became popularly known as Sea Bass Sam. After Sam passed in 1993, Vivian was one of the leaders of the Odd Fellows BayRock Lodge for many years. She helped with charitable projects for the community, including acquiring scholarship funds for Morro Bay High seniors.She has been described by some as “One of the toughest ladies I knew.”

 The ocean may seem a vast, boring desert of water to some, but as a fisherman steers his vessel on it for a day’s work, he sees so much more. He reads the water, the direction of winds and rolling swells, and his interest is high as he anticipates his days catch that will come up from the depths.

 Tom Hafer has been working on the ocean for well over 50 years, and like many fishermen, he knows the elements of it well, and that it can be unpredictable. He loves his job on the ocean.

“I don’t have anyone telling me what to do. I like the hunt. I like a good running boat with plenty of room. I guess I’m lucky to have the Kathryn H, a boat I can make money on.”

 Tom knew how to use a rod and reel from his dad when he was growing up, but he had an unlikely start as a fisherman when he was a teenager in the early 1970’s. He was dating a girl whose father was a fisherman that was out to sea much of the time. To not worry about his daughter getting too serious, he asked Tom to go fishing with him. From July to October, they chased albacore from Baja to Washington. The father was glad to keep Tom away from his daughter and Tom became hooked on being a fisherman.

 For several years Tom continued working as crew on several commercial fishing boats. He garnered lots of experience in several fisheries, such as albacore, other tuna, swordfish, and dragging for rockfish. He fished from Puerto Vallarta in Mexico to the Canadian Border. In 1985 Tom became captain of his own boats in San Diego fishing for lobster. In 1992 he continued his fishing career in Morro Bay, fishing mainly for spot prawns and near shore live fishing. He had the Nikki R, Reel Tight and his main boat, the Kathryn H, a 43-foot Donelle, which he fishes today.

He’s lived a lifetime of hard work, many great catches and some slow trips. He’s racked up experiences that fishermen face when they’ve been on the ocean for years, including hair-raising storms, big swells, stressful fog and the sadness of boats sinking and loss of other fishermen.

 One close call was coming in from a trip on the Columbia River to Ilwaco, Washington. The Sea Chase ran aground so the only alternative was to pump all the wells out and dump all the bait to lighten the boat. Eventually they broke loose and were able to back out.  Another time, “I was going to San Clemente Island lobster fishing and broke down in bad weather, the crew that was with me was freaking out, but I had a sea anchor so the bow would kick into it and I was fine. I had to get towed about 30 miles home to San Diego by the Coast Guard at night.”

Once, he caught another lobster fisherman pulling his gear, so he rammed him. Tom then gained the nickname “Captain Nemo.” In another interesting incident, he saw bubbles around his trap, which indicated divers poaching. Tom ran his lobster skiff around the trap several times to scare them. The culprit ended up being the sheriff’s daughter. He got a ticket right after for “speeding in the ocean.” The judge threw it out.

Tom said one time, when he was straddling the railing on his boat, a killer whale came up looking at him and was close enough to bite his leg. He felt lucky when it didn’t.  Another lucky time was when he came upon a leatherback turtle stuck in kelp and was able to save it. There’s a 1 min 45 sec. video of it on YouTube. Type in Raw Video Rescue of leatherback sea turtle near Big Sur. A few seconds of the video goes by before the action can be seen.

 Tom has another big love in his life-his family. He met Sheri in 1984 when she was a physical therapist at a Veterans Hospital and caring for Tom’s dad who was there.  They married in 1986, then moved to Atascadero to be closer to family members. They raised three kids; Lucas, Katie and Ben. Growing up, they all at times fished with Tom, but then followed different paths. Sheri has always been a huge support for their fishing business as well as taking care of her family. As empty nesters, they are now grandparents of cute little Ellimae.

 Tom still loves going to sea, the independence of the job and bringing in fresh seafood for people to enjoy, but he’s also busy with constant fights trying to save the livelihoods of fishermen. Together, Tom and Sheri have forged through many years of dealing with new regulations, management plans and the offshore wind projects. They have attended thousands of hours of meetings and written hundreds of letters to defend commercial fishing. Tom has been president of the Morro Bay Commercial Fishermen’s Organization since 2012. Sheri has been in different organizations and is currently Secretary of Central Coast Women for Fisheries.

A CCWF member, Sandy French is not only a fisherman’s wife but was once a fisherman herself and grew up in a fishing family. She has lived around the Morro Bay area most of her life and has seen the changes in the fishing industry. She used to fillet fish in a few of the several fish processing businesses that used to be in Morro Bay. In the 1970’s and 80’s tons of fish were brought in by the trawlers, hook and line and gillnet fishermen. If you could fillet fish, you could easily get a job. Sandy also worked on a couple of fishing boats at different times. One of them was a gillnetter, the Rosalena Marie, for white sea bass and halibut. Sandy crewed on this boat for a lady named Shelly Tobin and at the time it was unusual to see an all-lady crew. (Maybe it still is). 

Sandy's father Floyd McCool was a Morro Bay fisherman in the 1940’s and 50’s. He was in on the booming shark fishery during WWll when there was a big demand for vitamin A from the livers of soupfin shark. Vitamin A wasn’t synthetically made until a little later. Sandy’s husband John French, whom she has been married to for many years, is a long time local commercial fisherman. He mainly fishes for crab with his brother Jeff. Sandy and John have one son, Ryan, who recently earned his Coast Guard license and works at one of the local sport fishing landings as a captain.

Sandy has been a member, and a past director and secretary, of Central Coast Women for Fisheries since it was established in 2006. She has also worked in the food service department in the school system and has been very valuable with information and procedures when CCWF has fundraisers that involve food, especially our Fish Frys. Her specialty at the Fish Frys is her cocktail sauce. It’s the best! 

She is not just valuable for her cocktail sauce though. She is a well-respected and loved lady of our  community and part of the fishing story of Morro Bay.

A Few Memories of a life at Sea 

by Diane Schoditsch

In the summer of 1972, I met an abalone diver in Marina del Rey who offered me a job as his tender. I was on spring break from nursing school at USC, had recently moved to California from Phila-delphia and didn't know what an abalone was. But I grew up watching Sea Hunt and Jacques Cous-teau TV programs and the offer of a job on a boat on the Pacific Ocean seemed like a good way to make summer money. I didn't go back to school. I worked on a few other ab boats and bought my own boat from another diver who was going to Prison in 1976. My boat sank the next year on a mooring in Avalon and I met Tom, an Ab diver and future husband. He was moored nearby and of-fered to help me. He helped me for the next 39 years. 

I loved diving! My favorite Island was Santa Barbara Island. Other divers pretty much ignored this one square mile rock. It has purple coral reefs, brittle star reefs and deep canyons frequented by Giant Black Sea Bass. These fish can weigh in at over 500 pounds and were always frightening, yet awe-some to see. I also saw my first White Shark at Santa Barbara Island, a ten-footer. I was down at 80 feet and froze. But I will always remember the eyes. It looked straight at me and kept going. I consid-ered returning to nursing school. 

Tom and I dove all of the islands except San Miguel. Each Island is different. San Clemente and San Nicholas were always "interesting" with the Navy. We were pros at swimming in for unlawful beach landings on San Clemente Island, to hike. Except once, when we were caught. Our group of 5 fisher-men and 4 dogs were put in Jeeps and taken from the south end of the island to Wilsons Cove, the Navy base at the north end of the island. The Commander didn't know what to do with us, so he fed us dinner and beers and had the Jeeps drive us back to the other end of the island. We swam back to our boats at 3am. 

Tom and I basically fished for anything with a price on its head. We had mountains of nets and buck-ets of hooks for different fish and different seasons. One summer, we packed an ultralight plane with pontoons on the deck of our boat. We would launch him overboard for spotting the swordfish we hoped to harpoon. We dove for abalone at Cortez Bank, a high spot in the ocean roughly 100 miles from San Diego. Finding "The Bank" was iffy prior to GPS on our old, slow boat in strong current. 

We saw the Navy drop a practice bomb on our set net flag, and shook in our boots when a 1,092 foot aircraft carrier ran our drift swordfish net over, half of a mile away from us as we were pulling the net. It happened 3 days before Christmas and the tremendous amount of damage to the net was devastating. Dealing with the Navy for compensation wasn’t easy, and it eventually took an investi-gation by a TV program called JAG (Judge Advocate General) to resolve the issue. 

Each fishery is unique and challenging in its own way. But the biggest challenge has been, and con-tinues to be the blatant mismanagement of most fisheries by National Marine Fisheries Service. They folded to the threats of costly legal actions from radicalized environmental groups and implemented closures and restrictions to pacify the overly emotional, poorly educated, irrational eco gangs. They continue to disallow first hand observations from fishermen and have destroyed many small business-es in the name of conservation. They have little respect for fishermen, and I, for one, have no respect for them. Americans import 75% of their seafood from countries with minimal conservation restrictions. We have closed areas to Save the Turtles, other countries are making them into soup. 

I dove/fished from 1972 until Tom's death in 2015. I miss Tom and our fishing life terribly. I was proud of our career and felt good that hundreds of people would be enjoying quality seafood after we unloaded. I'm deeply thankful for my life on the Ocean. 

A Salmon Fishing Trip-Charlie Clark        by Sharon Rowley

As the boat leaves its dock in the very early morning, the sun is barely beginning to lighten the blue sky. It makes the few clouds look pink, which reflect on the ocean and make the whole scene look like a watercolor painting. The boat is headed toward the entrance of Morro Bay harbor, where the calm bay will transition to the usually rougher Pacific Ocean.  Still in the harbor, it passes by the resident sea otters floating on their backs, some with babies. On the south side of the channel, which is a sand spit, there are two deer, ears perked, as they watch intently by the edge of the water. As the boat approaches closer, they half run, half gracefully jump away into the sand dunes. Near  the entrance, the boat passes the 576-foot tall Morro Rock. If the rock could talk, there would be thousands of stories to tell from the generations of people living near the bay and getting clams, crabs and fish. Also, stories of the happy fishermen with successful catches and good times on the ocean, and of tragedies that happened in view of the giant rock. Just as the boat rounds the north jetty, the ocean swells can be felt. A few porpoises appear all of a sudden near the bow of the boat and swim with it for a couple of minutes. 

The boat is the Mallard out of Virg’s Landing in Morro Bay, California. They are taking out 14 fishermen on this spring day in 2002 to troll for salmon. The deckhand, Charlie Clark, is busy making sure all the fishing rods have the tackle on, the drags on the reels are set, giving instructions to passengers as well as answering their many questions and has bacon on the grill in the galley. He’s doing all this by himself as quickly as possible, in case the salmon are found not far out. As he is working, he quietly notices the deer, the dolphins, the watercolor morning and the towering Morro Rock that he sees every day. He doesn’t take any of this for granted, and feels lucky he makes his living on the ocean.

The captain, Sharon Rowley, gives an orientation and safety speech on the public address system as the boat is transiting the harbor. She and Charlie work as a team to prepare the passengers with just what to look for and what to do when a salmon strikes. The passengers, some drinking coffee or eating bacon and egg sandwiches, are milling about the boat, getting to know each other, excited about the adventure that awaits them.

 Not far from the harbor entrance Charlie has everyone ready, the fishing poles are in the rod holders, the passengers are intently watching the tips of their rods for the slightest movement and listening for a “zing” of their line pulling out. Almost 2 hours later there’s no action. Everyone has reeled in at least once to 

check for sea grass or kelp on their line. More time goes by and a few passengers start to nod off. Some are lying on the hatch in the warm sun as the boat trolls slowly up the coast, in deep water, then shallow water, over by some diving birds and along a current break. “I didn’t know salmon fishing was so boring” a passenger yawns to Charlie. “There’s been salmon in the area, lots of bait to keep them here. Keep watching your rod “ he says.

 Another hour goes by and a few more passengers fall asleep as the Mallard trolls on gently rolling swells. One teenage girl is standing next to her rod and watching it. The tip of the rod starts bouncing wildly. She freezes and does nothing as she stares at it. Charlie yells “Grab the pole quick and start reeling, you’ve got a fish!” She gets it out of the rod holder and as she starts to reel, it’s too easy, the fish is gone. Charlie checks her tackle and gets her back in the water. “Don’t worry, you’ll get one. Keep an eye on your rod and get it as soon as you see it move”.

After about another hour of no action, Charlie starts cheeseburgers in the galley for a few hungry passengers. While they are cooking slowly, he climbs the ladder into the wheelhouse to see if Sharon is seeing any signs of salmon around.  “Seeing much bait around or any marks on the meter?” Charlie says.                                                                                              “Not much, but there’s some seals checking something out over there and a lot of cormorants sitting on the water. We’ll head that way.”  As Charlie heads back down the ladder to tend to the cheeseburgers, yells of “Fish On!” are heard on deck. Almost everyone is yelling “Fish On!” He turns the grill off on the way out. The cheeseburgers can wait.     

 After Charlie nets a fish and quickly tags it with the passenger’s number, someone else is ready for their fish to be netted. He is trying to help the anglers follow their fish while doing all this, but some fish swim across other lines and are lost. The passengers are getting their lines back in the water after catching or losing a fish and hooking up again. If Charlie has a few seconds to spare, he guts and gills the salmon and throws it in the box.

An employee from Virg’s Landing, Bill Weintraub, is heading down the rail with a fish on and his eyes are wide with excitement. He had come out on previous trips and never got a bite. The crew would tease him because he always brought an old flimsy spinning rod and reel. “Where did you buy that Bill, from Toys R Us?” Bill was a good sport about it and loved to go fishing on his days off from the tackle store. As he is reeling in his fish, his pole breaks in half. The fish is still on the line and Bill is yelling and flailing his arms trying to re-attach the  pieces. Charlie runs over and grabs the line attempting to hand-line the fish in. The fish then swims under the boat and the line catches on something. Charlie has to let go and Bill is so frustrated and disappointed because he lost his only salmon hook-up of the year. Charlie grabs a gaff and goes to the other side of the boat to see if he can catch the line on the other side. He did, and hand-lines the fish in successfully. It wasn’t a big fish, but Bill was extremely happy.

 It was a “wide-open” salmon bite and there are almost limits, which is 2 fish for everyone, on one 45-minute stop. It was a chaotic session, but Charlie handled it calmly. Calmness is always Charlie’s demeanor and he does his work with a sense of humor too. He took care of the passengers well and was a big part in making their experience on the ocean memorable.  People often called the tackle store requesting to go on the boat he works on.

 The Mallard trolls for about 30 more minutes and the last few fish are caught to make  limits for all, including Sharon and Charlie. As the boat nears the harbor when heading home, Charlie goes up to the wheelhouse, as he does at times, to finish bringing the 65-foot Mallard in and maneuver it alongside the dock. He practiced this many times and had become very proficient at handling and docking the single propeller boat. On the rock cod trips, sometimes Charlie would take over the last couple of drifts for the day to put the boat over the fish. He became good at that too.

He Loves to Fish

Growing up in the Seal Beach area in southern California, Charlie’s interest in fishing started when he was a little boy and his father took him trout fishing. When a little older, he frequently hung out on the Seal Beach pier. Sometimes he collected gunny sacks to trade for fishing trips on the sport boat that ran off the pier. He and his buddies also rode their bikes all over town  and fished in some ponds behind hotels for bluegill and crappie.

As a young adult in the early 1980’s, he lived on the central coast of California in Morro Bay. Charlie got a job working the “rod room “at Virg’s Landing, doling out the rental rods for the boat passengers and maintaining the rods and reels. He went fishing once in a while and filled in as a deckhand for some of the captains. With his love of being on the ocean and fishing, it wasn’t long before Charlie worked full time on the boats. Over the years, he worked on several of Virg’s boats, including the Mallard and the Lot-A-Fun. For over four decades Charlie has fished the local waters on many sport boats out of different Landings, plus he has fished commercially for albacore, salmon, hagfish and worked on the kelp cutter.

Charlie was very valuable to anyone he worked with because of his skill, work ethics and fun to be around. His calmness carried over to juggling working full time and being a single father of Amber, Madison and Blue. With the help of family, fishermen’s wives, and the “Kids Club” (through the Morro Bay Recreation Dept.) the childcare worked out. Sometimes he brought one on the boat and they learned to fish. Later, the 4th and youngest child came along, named Charlie, and he brought him on the boats starting at age 5, taking him almost everywhere he went.  He’s now 17 and a good deckhand. 

                                        Things aren’t the same

Charlie was diagnosed with cancer and in 2022 learned it had metastasized to his bones. A grim prognosis of 2 to 3 more years of his life remaining changed a lot of things for him. He continued to work on the sport boats and some commercial fishing, but eventually he had some bad days, as well as good days.

Leaving one beautiful morning on a commercial fishing trip, Charlie was watching the harbor as thoughts flowed of his family, seeing Alaska someday, and things he had not yet done. The sight of Morro Rock at the harbor entrance was getting smaller and smaller as they traveled farther away. Then it disappeared. Charlie was far offshore on the ocean he loved and worked on for decades, but suddenly he said to himself “I’m done”. He might be done with a full-time job, but he still goes out on boats to fish or help. There’s not much that can keep Charlie Clark off the ocean.

Pictured is Charlie Clark with King salmon on the Mallard in the late 1990’s. He loved to fish every chance he got during his fishing career. Sometimes, when stripers were close to shore north of Morro Rock, he went fishing for them off the rocks at the crack of dawn before he had to be at work early in the morning.

A small crowd gathers on a fishing boat, some carrying food or drinks. One person is bringing a large pink bakery box with a cake inside. People are happily milling around the boat as it’s tied to the dock and seem to be enjoying a party. It might be someone’s birthday, a retirement party, or maybe a celebration of someone’s milestone. With such a nice group of people appearing to be pleasant with each other, you wouldn’t think that someone is going to be thrown overboard. A long-standing ritual in the small fishing community of Morro Bay on California’s central coast has been to throw a newly licensed captain into the water. It’s usually off the dock, but at times have been tossed off a boat tied to the dock.

Rita Gartrell was the first woman captain to be the recipient of this cold, drenching experience in 1979. As with anyone, she was first given time to take off her glasses, jewelry and contents of any pockets. Then a few strong men took her by the arms on one side and feet on the other and swung her off the dock. Even though Rita was a good swimmer, a life jacket was thrown in too. Rita was then helped onto the dock, given a towel and congratulated by the crowd.

 This same scene on Morro Bay docks has been played out over many decades. They all have been memorable and some a little more unusual. In the mid 1980’s Sam Kaeli earned his Coast Guard license to operate up to 100-ton vessels with passengers after many years of working as a deckhand. His friends and family knew he didn’t want to get thrown in the water, so some planning had to be done at his Captain Celebration. Sam wore some tight-fitting fishing boots because he knew he wouldn’t get thrown in with boots on. The party was on a boat that Sam worked on tied to the dock and some of the men suddenly grabbed him at a surprise moment to get Sam’s boots off. Sam struggled and didn’t make it easy, so a few more people had to join in to help, including John Rowley, who was another captain who had received his license a couple of years earlier. No one had ever attempted to throw John in the water for the ritual because he was a large, intimidating looking person. John calmed Sam down by agreeing to jump in the water with him. Sam then allowed his boots to be taken off, led off the boat to the edge of the dock, and tossed in the drink. John jumped in at the same time, the only captain to initiate himself, and the two drenched friends enjoyed the rest of the party.

 Around 2014 there were two deckhands, James and Tabby, that worked at Virg’s Landing in Morro Bay, who wanted to move up to the job of captain. It meant better pay, but a lot more responsibility. After having the required minimum of 720 days working on the ocean, they both took a 2-week class designed to pass the rigorous Coast Guard written test. After a medical exam to show they were physically capable, a CPR course, and a federal background check they both received their licenses at around the same time. James and Tabby were both hard-working, skilled and deserving to become captains. James, in his 40’s, was a real success story of how a person can succeed at changing their life and do an “about-face” from going down the wrong path and arriving at a very low place. He eventually became one of the best deck hands and is now one of the best captains. A lot of people like to go fishing with James because he consistently brings them back with good catches of fish and the passengers love his fun-loving personality. Tabby, 33, started fishing before she was 20, mostly on commercial boats for black cod and Dungeness crab. She was also scuba diving at a young age and earned money by cutting out lines caught in boat propellers. She was only 22 when she earned a captain’s license in 2014.

 Friends, family and co-workers had a great party for James and Tabby on Virg’s largest boat, the 90-foot Admiral, with lots of food and a huge cake. The boat remained tied to the dock and after a while, everyone was milling around the back deck with anticipation in the air. James was taking off his jacket and shoes with a huge grin on his face as the crowd was closing in on him. James made a big splash when he was thrown off the boat. Tabby was sitting by herself in the galley and when asked when she was coming out, she said with determination “No one is touching me!” Tabby never got thrown in the water for other’s entertainment, but she is a person who throws herself into life with as much determination as when she claimed no one was going to touch her. Over the years, she has become well known in the fishing community as a hard worker and an asset to anyone that is lucky enough to have her working for them. 

There are levels of Merchant Mariner licenses to operate a passenger vessel, ferry boats, oil crew boats, tugs, tankers and other ships from 25 ton to 1600 ton. Most are congratulated by family, friends and co-workers, but most don’t go through initiations which may seem silly to others.

 In 1994 one ritual for a newly licensed captain of sport fishing vessels in Morro Bay seemed to go a little overboard.  It was for this writer, Sharon Rowley, that her sister planned as a surprise. 

It’s a good thing it was a surprise or it never would have happened. I was led by my sister Patty to a local fish unloading dock on a pier where there was a small crowd gathered, which included family and friends. I thought to myself “Oh, a little party to congratulate me, maybe a cake will be here.” There was no cake and I was put in a metal fish-unloading bucket. The large buckets are used to put a few hundred pounds of fish in when a boat is unloading and attached with big wire to a boom that lowers the basket to the boat, then hoists it back up to the dock. It was scrubbed out, but still smelled of fish. I stood in the basket and was swung over the water and lowered down off the pier until the water was up to my waist. As I looked up, I could see the delight on everyone’s faces as I was gritting my teeth from what seemed like freezing water, plus the fear I had of imagining the wire breaking and the bucket sinking to the bottom. I was planning in my mind how I would swim out of the bucket as quickly as I could when I realized I was being hoisted back up. My sister had a towel for me and had sneaked a change of clothes. She and my mother also had a bouquet of flowers to go along with congratulations. A little gathering with cake was awaiting on one of Virg’s Landing boats nearby.

 In the 1940’s and 50’s, new Chief Petty Officers in the US Navy had an initiation of being thrown in the water, but in a swimming pool. It’s not known how the ritual began of tossing new captains off docks in Morro Bay, but it has been the highlight of people getting together, having fun, good food and celebrating accomplishments.

The first day I ever met her, she exclaimed to me “I’m going to own my own boat someday and fish for salmon in Alaska”. Looking at this petite, very young and pretty girl, I thought to myself “That probably won’t happen”, but I was impressed by her boldness. There were many wives of commercial fishermen that worked with their husbands and fished for salmon and albacore, and at the time I knew of a handful that were boat captains on the west coast of the United States. Little did I know that years later it wouldn’t be so unusual for women to run their own fishing boats at sea.

It was 1983 when Christine Holmes walked up to me as I was working on fishing nets in my yard and asked for a job helping me with the nets. I lived across the street from Giannini’s Marine supply store on Market Street in Morro Bay, on California’s central coast. It was so convenient because the fishermen could order supplies, then walk across the street to drop them off in my yard using the store’s dolly. I mostly would strip the tattered webbing off lines, then rehang the new webbing onto the float lines for the top of the net, which were 180 feet long, and the lead lines for the bottom, another 180 feet. Each fisherman would have 6 to 8 of these 180-foot sections. There were 20 fishermen I hung gill-nets for and most of the time I had one or two jobs going at a time that the fisherman wanted as soon as possible, so I welcomed the help.

Chrissy caught on fast and was an excellent worker. Now the fishermen could get their nets quicker and I could also spend a little more time with my 2 elementary school age kids. I relished the fact I could work at home, but was so busy it was hard to spend quality time with them.

Most of the nets we could “hang,” or attach the webbing while sitting down. We used a custom-made bench that we straddled on the seat. Attached on the bench in front of us were two posts sticking up. One was an arm we could move back and forth, then tighten with a wing nut. We adjusted the arm to how many inches apart a fisherman wanted the knots tied to attach his net to the float and lead lines. The measured section of rope was on top of the posts. 2 nails sticking up on the far post held the rope snug and 1 nail sticking up and slightly bent was on the arm post in front of us. We made half-hitches around the rope, and one loop around the bent nail, then made a quick jerk, sliding it off the nail to snap it into a knot. If it was snapped at the very end of the bent nail hard enough, it made a very tight knot.

After close to a year of working with me, Chrissy found out about a trade school in  Oregon to learn how to build trawl nets and mend them. She jumped at the opportunity to go to the school. While attending it for a few months, she also met a lot of contacts for working on boats in Alaska. After completing the class, Chrissy came back to Morro Bay to briefly stay with her mother and sister in Cambria, where she grew up. We were all proud of her for completing this class. Chrissy would be leaving soon to take a job on a processor ship in the Bering Sea. In the meantime, she helped me with a couple of net jobs in my yard.. 

 After working one morning, I took Chrissy out to lunch at the Fish Shanty restaurant on Morro Bay’s waterfront. It was a place you could eat and watch the boats unloading their catch near the north T-Pier. Today, it’s Tognazzini’ Dockside Restaurant.

 At a table next to the two of us were 4 fishermen. They were loudly talking about their successful fishing trip on a trawler and their catch of various kinds of sole, such as Petrale, Dover, English and Rex sole. When they started talking about some problems they had with their net, Chrissy boldly intruded on their conversation and began telling them about their problem and how to fix it. I froze and cringed at how these 4 big burly fishermen were going to react to pretty, little Chrissy telling them what they should be doing. Their reaction was a few grunts as they stared at her, and I don’t remember that they said any words. Chrissy’s one way conversation with them was short, then we went on eating our lunch and visiting. The fishermen continued with their lunch too, but I noticed they were in more hushed tones as they conversed.

 In a few weeks, Chrissy left for Alaska with the determination and enthusiasm that was so much a part of her. She appeared to have no fear. We kept in touch by letters and she would occasionally come back home to visit her family, then drop by my house for a bit. Chrissy was working hard and having one adventure after another. She started off on the processor ship as a cook’s assistant. Women were typically hired as cooks or part of the fish processing crew, but when the captain found out about Chrissy’s knowledge of nets, he changed her job to a deckhand.

Chrissy worked on a few different boats as a deckhand during her years in Alaska and one was a smaller gill net boat, about 30 feet long. On one of their trips near the Copper River they didn’t come back in time to beat some bad weather. The swells picked up fast to 25 feet. They approached a rough bar and the captain knew he couldn’t cross it   to get home because of the breaking swells. Then they had the bad fortune of the boat’s engine dying and were drifting closer to the breakers. The captain called the Coast Guard who instructed them to put on their immersion suits, also called survival suits.

 Chrissy had just taken a survival at sea class, which included how to put the suits on quickl, so she put hers on with ease. The captain had never put one on before, so Chrissy gave him a quick lesson. When the Coast Guard helicopter arrived, they determined the boat was so small and the seas too big to lower a basket onto the boat safely, so told them to jump in the water. A Coast Guard diver was sent down and helped Chrissy in the basket that was lowered to the water, then helped the captain. The boat didn’t sink or capsize and it was retrieved a few days later drifting.

 Chrissy met many great people and made a lot of friends while living and working in Alaska.One of them was a small plane pilot that was teaching her to fly. She eventually earned enough money from her deckhand years and bought her own gill net boat that she fished for salmon with. She reached her goal that she boldly predicted to me the first day I met her.

 In 1994, still in her 30’s, Chrissy was diagnosed with breast cancer, but continued to fish with energy and enthusiasm, even between chemo-therapy treatments. The last month of her life she came back home to Cambria so her mother and sister could take care of her. She passed away in 1996. I heard or read somewhere once that some people don’t tip-toe through life. Chrissy was certainly one of them.

It was 1964 as he was sitting in class, feeling a little out of place. At his desk, he looked around and thought “All these people have got to be over 40.” As a young teenager, Sandy Winston was the only child in the class. His father had told him if he took a Coast Guard Auxiliary boating class, he would buy him a boat. Sandy completed the class and his dad bought him a 26-foot cabin cruiser. Sandy was the one that ran the boat and took his dad out fishing and did most of the maintenance, all before he was 15.

This was the beginning of a lifetime of Sandy owning boats. He bought and sold a few, and built a couple. The first one he built was a panga style boat that he fished for rock fish by hook and line. Except for a two-year stint in the Navy in the early 1970’s, life was all about family and making a living at sea. Residing in southern California, he fished the panga, then around 1977 Sandy bought a larger boat. The guy he bought it from came on the first trips to show him the ropes of gill-netting. Besides fishing for a living, Sandy was raising his three kids as a single father.

 Around 1983 Sandy made a move to Morro Bay. He wanted to get his pre-teen kids in a more rural atmosphere; Quint, Sid and Samantha. Sandy brought his gill-netter with him. On one of his early Morro Bay fishing trips, he set his net close to one of the sport boats fishing with passengers. The sport boat was the Princess and the captain was Rita Gartrell. Rita’s response was a kind welcome to Morro Bay, and she helped him by sharing a few areas to check out that might be productive. They became long-time friends and Sandy realized the fishermen in this central California harbor were a tight-knit community, sport fishermen and commercial fishermen alike.

 In the mid 1980’s Sandy met Cathy Cordero. Together they expanded Qualmans Oyster Company on Morro Bay’s waterfront to include a fish market, and they also acquired the space on the base of the north T-pier to unload boats. Cathy and Sandy then established Cordero/Winston Fish Company where Tognazzini’s Dockside II is today. They kept over 40 people employed filleting, packing, unloading, delivering, and in the office for about 10 years and were a major receiver for the commercial boats to bring in their catches.

  Also, during this time, Sandy was looking for another boat.  Fisherman Bill Diller told him about the Doran. Sandy bought it and trawled for halibut and spotted prawns. His many successful trips paid for his boat, helped with the Cordero/Winston business and raised his family.

With changes in his life, the fish company ended and his next boat was the Zeplin which he used traps for the prawns. Also, Sandy went to work just down the waterfront at Degarimore’s Central Coast Seafood dock. He unloaded slime eels, crab and at times, squid.

 Sandy met his wife Becky after the Cordero/Winston years and she has been by his side for over 25 years. She helped Sandy work on the Central Coast Seafood dock and fished with him on the Zeplin. After a few more years, Sandy and Becky moved from Morro Bay to Fort Bragg, CA. and helped another guy set up a slime eel unloading business. They operated it for several years, then Sandy went to work for the railroad in the Fort Bragg area in the mechanical department.

 Sandy spent a lifetime fishing on the boats he built or bought. He said the most nerve-wracking experience was in his earlier fishing days in southern California when he caught a bomb in his net. He called the Coast Guard and they sent a special weapons person to get it out.

 Through all his fishing years Sandy was lucky to have no major mishaps on the ocean. He took safety measures seriously and would come in when the weather was bad. He mainly day fished, which was also conducive to being there for his kids while they were growing up. He did endure the tragedy of losing his daughter Samantha in a motorcycle accident several years ago. She was in her mid-30’s and sadly left 4 kids behind.

Sandy misses fishing, but he has built his legacy of a good fisherman, a hard worker and a good father.

When Dick Sylvester was born in 1939, ranching and fishing were the main ways of making a living for many on California’s central coast. Getting up early and hard work were a way of life. Dick grew up this way, helping on his grandfather’s ranch as a child, including getting up early to milk cows. In his teens, he also helped his father, Joe, at his abalone plant in Avila and fished with him on his boat. He also kept busy tending on boats for his uncles, who were abalone divers. These early years were the beginning of a lifetime for his love of making a living at sea.

 In 1960, at the young age of 21, Dick married a young beauty, Trudy Pierce. Uniting these two extended families brought together a rich history of fishing and tugboat services from the Sylvester side, and the Pierce family’s history in the local abalone industry. Also on the Pierce side was 300 years and 14 generations of the Salinan Tribe that lived in what is now San Luis Obispo and Monterey counties.  Trudy was an elder and one of her relatives, Suzanne Pierce Taylor, wrote a treasure trove of information in her book about Salinan history: The Ancestors Speak.

 Dick bought a boat in 1963 and named it after his wife, the Trudy S. He made a good living with various fisheries, including salmon, albacore, rock cod, herring and shark. At one time he also worked on a purse seiner in Alaska, and just out of high school, worked on Mannie Gorgita’s boat out of Santa Barbara for harpooning swordfish and trapping lobster. In the earlier years on the Trudy S., he could fish mainly in the summer months and make a comfortable living to take care of his family and raise their 4 daughters; Terry, Tina, Tammy and Tracie. 

 The Trudy S. was built in Wilmington in 1947 by a man with the last name of DeMaglio. According to Dick, he also built the Dor-Ann, which fished out of Morro Bay for several years by Sandy Winston. Dick fished every year, except one, in 1960, when he married Trudy. He worked on the Sylvester tugs that year. After buying his boat in 1963, he continued to fish for the next 54 years until 2017 when he retired. 

His well-maintained boat was a fixture in Morro Bay and when he wasn’t out fishing, the Trudy S. was in the foreground of countless picturesque scenes of the harbor and Morro Rock that were captured in photos and paintings by tourists and locals alike.

Not only a good fisherman, Dick was a great father and grandfather. His family meant the world to him. He treated them with much love and respect and was a good teacher to the younger generation, including having one of his grandsons as a deckhand for the summer. 

His daughter, Terry White (Sylvester at the time), was so enthusiastic to go fishing with her dad, that she went time after time, even though she knew she would get sea sick. She also helped her dad at haul-out time to sand and paint the boat. Hanging out with her dad is one of her greatest memories. Dick got to enjoy 10 grandchildren and 10 great grandchildren. His granddaughter, Tawny, summed things well: “His legacy is not just in the years he lived, but in the lives he touched, the hearts he warmed, the relationships he forged. He was a man of great integrity…He was the kind of man who knew the value of hard work, the importance of honesty, and the strength of humility. “

 Trudy Sylvester passed away in 2017 after 57 years of marriage with Dick. She was always supportive of his fishing ventures and became famous in the area for her delicious cakes. She made them for many local kid’s birthdays as they grew up, wedding cakes and more. She was also well-loved by kids in the community, as she was a teacher’s aide at the Elementary School for 37 years. She was also an active member of Central Coast Women for Fisheries, using her exceptional art talent for the organization’s needs and helping with fundraisers. One of the biggest projects, the “Those Who Wait” statue at Morro Rock took 10 years of CCWF fundraising and grants. Like so many others, she and her family would wave good-by when Dick was leaving on a trip, or wait at the harbor mouth for the first glimpse of his boat returning. The statue honors these loved ones that wait.

 During the most recent years when Dick was still fishing, it was harder to make a living. Many factors were involved, including stricter fishing regulations and the economy. Dick said he still loved getting up early in the morning and the independence of his job at sea. He left a giant footprint on the community after he passed away on November 13, 2023. He was a strong advocate for the fishermen and belonged to the Morro Bay Commercial Fishermen’s Organization. After his passing, several members got together to make sure his boat was preserved and it will be on display as part of the Morro Bay Maritime Museum.

Dick Sylvester's interview, as well as interviews with many other fishermen, are on the Morro Bay Museum website; morrobaymaritime.org. Scroll down to “Research Library”, then click on“Oral Histories.”

In June 2019, CCWF did a Facebook profile on Matt Duffy. He was a fisherman, but had to change his career, so he received scholarships for 4 years from our Fishing Heritage Scholarship Program. He was going to Cuesta at the time and had plans for Cal Poly to pursue a degree in Psychology. Today, Matt is near graduation and his sights are on grad school to be a Marriage and Family Therapist. One of his successes is now being a certified alcohol and drug counselor and he’s busy with a full case-load.

As a little boy, he loved to fish. When his family went to Lake Tahoe,  they were at the pool and he was sitting on a rock with a fishing pole. His grandmother worked as a bookkeeper for Chris’s Landing in Monterey, so while growing up he got to go deep sea fishing on the boats sometimes. He also fished off docks whenever he could.

 When older, Matt worked commercial fishing for several years in various fisheries, including slime eels out of Morro Bay and Eureka and long lining for black cod. At times, he also worked on passenger sport fishing boats out of Morro Bay, and for a while in Alaska.  He worked at Great Alaska Adventures, taking anglers offshore for halibut.

 Fishing was a job Matt loved and planned on continuing, maybe having his own boat someday or getting a captain license. However, life took him down another path when he developed medical issues and became partially blind. Not being able to work on boats anymore, he started college. His qualities of hard work and dedication as a fisherman carried through to his studies to become a counselor. Later, his kidneys became diseased and he had to go on dialysis for a few years. He was on a kidney transplant list for three and a half years until he received them, and a pancreas too. It’s been two 2 years since the transplants and he is currently healthy and stable. He’s also forever grateful to an organ donor he doesn’t know for saving his life.

Matt may have lost a job he loved as a fisherman, but countless others gained a person who is helping them with their problems through his counseling. A college counselor once wrote of Matt years before, “He is not only motivated and driven, but caring and compassionate as well. Matthew always puts others before himself and his passion to help people in crisis is both heartwarming and commendable.”

Matt still gets the pleasure of fishing by hopping on a sport boat once in a while, and he fishes off his kayak in the back bay for bat rays. They get pretty big he says, and he ends up just going for a wild ride as a hooked up ray drags him all over the place.

In 1967 Charlie Lanini began his life-long career as a fisherman at age 14 and over fifty years later in 2022 he still works on the ocean. While still a student at Morro Bay High he worked summers and weekends as a deckhand on the Mallard out of Roses Landing. The captain was Bob Gannon who was popular for bringing in good catches for his passengers, including rock fish and albacore. Most people that remember Bob regard him as legendary. During the 1960’s and 70’s the sport fishing landings on Morro Bay’s waterfront were plentiful. Besides Roses Landing where Charlie worked, there was Virg’s Landing, Graham's Landing, Brebes Sport Fishing, and 5th Street Landing. Near the bottom of Beach Street the boats Lucky Strike, Glady I and the Sarda Sarda took passengers out too. In earlier days there was also Harts Landing, Mike's Landing, Richie’s Bait Shop that ran the “Craby Joe” (spelled that way in an ad) and Ferguson’s Landing which sold tickets for a fishing trip at $4.45 in 1948.

 Charlie continued working on the Mallard after high school and he and Captain Bob stayed with the boat after it was sold to Virg’s Landing in the mid 1970’s. They also crewed on some of Virg’s otherl boats. Bob Gannon passed away in the late 1970’s and in 1977 Charlie decided to buy his own boat and go commercial fishing for rockfish. He bought the Xiphias with his good friend Bart Strauss as a partner. Charlie and Bart fished regularly and worked hard to be successful and pay the boat off. Sometimes the swells at the Morro Bay harbor entrance were very unpredictable because of shoaling that took place. The Army Corp of Engineers wrote in a report that “Morro Bay is known as one of the most dangerous harbors in the United States”. The Core wrote that from 1962 to the year of the report, 1993, “there have been 20 deaths and 67 injuries caused by steep and breaking waves at the harbor entrance.” It’s been better since the mid 1990’s because it has been dredged on a regular basis, which deepens the channel to make it safer. Coming home with a boatload of fish on Friday March 13, 1981 an unexpected steep swell caught the Xiphias and capsized it. Charlie drifted to the beach on the sand spit but young Bart, at 29, didn’t make it and left behind a wife, Patty Strauss and a son, 9 year old Shane. Like other accidents that took the lives of fishermen, it saddened the close knit community of Morro Bay. His name, B. Strauss, is engraved on the Anchor Memorial on the waterfront.

 After the loss of the Xiphias (which is a Greek word for swordfish) Charlie’s course changed a little but didn’t keep him from making his living at sea. When Virgil Moores established his sport fishing landing in Morro Bay in 1954 he also brought a live bait operation to the area. The bait boat would go to sea and catch anchovies and sardines, then unload them into receivers on the docks at Virg’s Landing. This live bait kept many sport fishing and commercial vessels supplied with their bait. Virg brought his first bait boat up from southern California called the Standard. On one of the Standards trips in 1958 it was taking a load of bait to deliver in Avila and sank near Point Buchon. For many days a lot of searching went on, including the Coast Guard cutter Alert that was stationed in Morro Bay, but only two bodies were found. The Standard and 4 crewmen were lost and there was only speculation on why it sank. Virg then bought another bait boat from Bill Odette in Newport, CA named the Billy Boy. That would be the bait boat for the next several decades at Virg’s Landing. It had a few different crews before Charlie took it over when he ran it from 1981 to 2004.

 Virg’s Landing had a fleet of 5 to 7 boats at different times over the years and Charlie and his crew kept them supplied with live bait. They would salt some of it in barrels for a bait supply when the Billy Boy wasn’t able to fish during the winter storms. While still operating the Billy Boy, Charlie earned a 100 ton Coast Guard license in 1985 so he could also be a captain for Virg’s passenger fishing boats. Over the years he ran about every boat Virg’s had at one time or another. The largest was the 90 foot Admiral  which he worked on full time starting in 2007. The Admiral ran local day trips, multi day trips and farther offshore for albacore.

Charlie has other family members in the Morro Bay fishing business. His brother Jay Awa is a fisherman and his late mother, Miki Awa was a fixture on the waterfront for many years as a fish filleter. Charlie and his wife Pam of 43 years have been a happy and supportive couple. Pam worked at Virg’s Landing for 14 years doing office work and helping to get the boats out every morning. She also did the bookkeeping for all of Charlie’s endeavors through the years, along with keeping a cozy welcoming home for themselves. Like many family members of local fishermen, Pam has spent many times out near the harbor entrance, near Morro Rock, either waving good-bye at the start of a fishing trip or watching for the first sight of Charlie’s boat coming home from sea. Because of CCWF there is now a statue there named “For Those Who Wait,” which honors the families of fishermen who have done just as Pam and countless others have done for decades, hoping their loved ones come back safe.

 Except for a 3 year break when Charlie and Pam went to live in West Virginia to be with Pam’s elderly mother, Charlie has lived and worked on the ocean out of Morro Bay. He  has worked with crew members that have come and gone but became close friends with them. He’s had proud moments with his crew many times as they have come home with a big load of fish and a feeling of success. 

He has loved watching and helping countless passengers catch fish and having fun, including teaching kids and “first-timers” to fish. He also likes to fish for perch commercially from shore and enjoys the many beautiful beaches in the areas where he fishes. Being a fisherman has its perils and joys and is hard work, but it’s a way of life Charlie says he loves

 Squid  by Sharon Rowley

About 50 to 75 pounds of dead squid visited my small kitchen every week.

My first child, Brian, was about 4 months old in 1975 when I received an offer from our friend that owned a fish company to clean squid from my home. Mike Degarimore knew I could clean fish well from previously filleting fish on San Simeon pier for the sport boats, and knew I wanted to stay home with my baby. Even though my husband John was working as a fisherman, we could really use the money. I was already earning $10 a day to babysit my 5-year-old nephew.  My sister Patty and her husband Bart dropped off little Shane at my house most mornings so they could drive 26 miles from Morro Bay to San Simeon cove to clean fish on the pier. Several of Virg’s Landing’s boats operated from the pier, and Patty and Bart filleted hundreds of pounds each day that the passengers brought in. 

About 3 times a week Mike Degarimore dropped off 5-pound boxes of whole squid that he had thawed. I cut off the head with tentacles first, then slit open the 5 to 6 inch long body lengthwise, which made a small flat steak. Then I pinched the quill and guts and yanked it out. Lastly, I skinned the membrane on the outer side. It was all short, quick movements to clean 20 to 25 pounds. Mike came back in the late afternoon to pick up the squid I cleaned, including the guts to dispose of. Then I cleaned up the kitchen and If I left one speck of squid juice, the house would wreak.

The next day, he brought the same squid back that he put through a tenderizer. I breaded the steaks and packed them in 5-pound boxes labeled as Calamari. I always had a 50-pound bag of Golden Dipt Breading Mix leaning against the wall in my kitchen. Mike picked up the boxes in the afternoon to put in his freezers, ready for sale. 

When I was growing up, my sister and I would sometimes talk about what kind of man we would marry someday. Mine was a rancher where I could have all the animals I wanted. I would have a horse to ride in the meadows and mountains and I would have lots of chickens to collect fresh eggs from every day. I pictured a happy family with lots of kids that could grow up with all the cats and dogs they wanted. The ranch was a paradise in my mind.

We lived in Harmony, CA (population 18) and I graduated from a small class of 32 at the high school in Cambria when I was seventeen. Then I went to the local Community College for 2 years. My jobs in high school and after were waitressing in a couple of local restaurants. Then, when I was 20, I went fishing a few times with my mother who was working on a sport boat for Virg’s Landing in nearby Morro Bay and San Simeon. 

The first time I went, the ocean was rough and I felt queasy from the rocking and rolling, but at the same time, in awe of all the activity. Everywhere I looked people were slinging lines of 3, 4 or more fish over the rail. The deckhands were helping people get them off the hooks and gaffing lingcod that looked huge. The sounds of glee from the passengers, the crew yelling instructions and the pounding of their feet racing around the boat to help was exciting chaos that jerked me out of being sea sick. I found I loved being on the ocean.

I met my husband John just before I turned 21. He was 25 and worked on a commercial fishing boat for albacore that anchored in San Simeon when the weather was bad. The crew off his boat, the Val, would go fishing for the fun of it on the boat my mother worked on. She and her husband, Art, got to know John and invited him to the ranch in Harmony to have BBQ’s. I was living at home, so got to know him too. Now, in our late 70’s, we are still together. 

 I got hooked in more ways than one. Going fishing with my mother introduced me to the different world of the ocean and the fun of fishing. Then I met my husband and fishing became a way of life for our entire working lives. We commercially fished for rockfish, sole and shrimp, worked as deckhands on sport boats, mended nets and filleted tons of fish in the markets, then each became captains and operated passenger fishing boats for many years. We had two kids and raised them helping on boats or at home with nets. They became fishermen too.

 Instead of my childhood dream of a ranch with peaceful meadows and the wilderness of mountains, I’ve worked my life on the calm seas to the mountainous swells of the Pacific Ocean. Instead of horses, chickens, dogs and cats, I’ve had all the fish, shrimp, crabs and clams I ever wanted, and a memorable life I wouldn’t trade for anything.  I also shared my kitchen with squid.