Nov
16, 6:23 PM
Dean's
Web Site Home Click Here It would have some explaining to do about those belly scars, perhaps as
pedestrian in origin as being slung around in a tackle box, or (better yet)
souvenirs from close encounters with snapping pikes' teeth. And what on Earth
twisted the second of its three hooks down there? What a battle that must've
been. Or maybe this Creek Chub Pikie simply got flung into a wall by a
frustrated fisherman who watched another big 'un one get away.
One thing's for sure: Marty "Catfish" Cummings is the one who's
hooked now. The Melbourne resident can tell you all about this lure.
He can tell you this one was manufactured by the Creek Chub Bait Co. in
Garrett, Ind., on Sept. 27, 1920, and retailed for $1.15. He can tell you he
bought it an at Oak Hill flea market for more than 10 times that amount. The
little sucker is made from wood, and they don't make plugs out of wood anymore.
Which means this Creek Chub Pikie is an official antique.
With a handmade sign soliciting motorists for vintage tackle outside his
house on the corner of Sarno and Croton roads, Cummings belongs to a small but
growing community of collectors who scour yard sales, the Internet, flea
markets, and full-blown national conventions in search of rare tackle.
"I don't know how to explain it," says Cummings, who can't even
venture a ballpark estimate of how many old plugs he's collected since he got
serious about it three years ago. "I guess you could call it an
addiction."
If it sounds a little daffy, here's a stone-cold sober number to keep in
mind: 101,200. That's how many dollars someone paid earlier this month --
including the 10 percent buying premium -- for a metallic, late 19th-century
lure called a Haskell Minnow, which was listed with an auction house.
"It's the most ever paid for any piece of fishing memorabilia that I've
ever heard of," says Dean Sova, a collector/appraiser from his home south
of Detroit. "It was a historically significant, one of-a-kind piece."
Sova is one of 5,000 hobbyists who belong to the National Fishing Lure
Collectors Club, founded in 1976 not only to showcase lures, but for the buying
and selling of old rods, reels, minnow traps and other related antiquities. A
serious collector for the past 15 years, Sova isn't surprised when -- as
happened during a recent eBay auction -- a 1909 Chautauqua Minnow (complete with
original box and instructions) goes for $45,855.
"It appeals to the hunter-gatherer part of the male instinct," says
Sova, whose personal inventory counts items from as far away as England, France
and Japan. "Fishermen, like hunters, like to go off and discover new stuff.
They're very competitive by nature, whether it's a bassmasters or a marlin
tournament. They enjoy the privilege of having the biggest or the best."
"It's about the search," adds Bill Stuart, by phone from Winter
Haven. "It's about not having it and trying to find it. You can say that
about a lot of things."
Stuart once ran a fishing museum for 10 years in Winter Haven, where he had
no problem filling shelf space with antique loaners from proud owners. Today,
he's the president of the 500-member Florida Antique Tackle Collectors, which
holds its annual convention each February in Daytona Beach.
Too often, he says, people who bring tackle to him for appraisal confuse age
-- and emotional attachments -- with market value. His typical response:
"You outta take these and go fishing."
"I had this one man call me, the vice president of a major U.S.
corporation, actually, who said, 'I'd like to loan you some lures,' "
Stuart says. "Well, he brought 25 or 30 in, and not a one had redeeming
value. But it became very apparent, after talking with him, that these lures
represented a link between him and his grandfather, who'd taught him how to
fish.
"Well, I picked a few out, more as a courtesy than anything else, and
said, 'These are the ones I'd use, but why don't you take them all home, put the
ones you want to keep in a frame on the wall, and mail the rest of 'em in?' I
knew I'd never hear from him again. I think he just wanted someone else to see
the value in them."
Author of a book called "Florida Lure Makers and Their Lures,"
Stuart says he knows exactly what he'd like to get his hands on -- a 1940s-era
curiosity called the Pooper Scooper. Manufactured in Greenwood, S.C., out of tin
cases designed to hold watch parts, the Pooper Scooper, like many plugs, came in
a box with a manual and a photo.
"If you find the whole package, that's what really enhances their
worth," Stuart says.
"Catfish" Cummings started fishing when he was a kid in
Pennsylvania, but that's not how he got his nickname. The nickname comes from
his job as a security officer at Florida Tech, where he also has the
"dubious distinction" of feeding the pond catfish. He moved to Brevard
three decades ago, back when the fishing was still decent, but he didn't get the
collecting bug until three or so years ago.
The addiction began slowly, as he browsed the flea markets and kept seeing
used lures going for $20 apiece, lures he knew cost a fraction of that when they
were produced years ago. As he gravitated to these colorful and diverse
exhibitions of tackle, reaching into his wallet, it occurred to him: "In my
opinion, they built plugs to attract fishermen, not fish."
Hooked
on lures
Collecting
gear can be as addictive as dropping a line
By
Billy Cox
FLORIDA
TODAY
It's a green, goofy-looking thing with yellow eyes and coloration that ranges
from olive to silver to brown, or what the book describes as Natural Perch
Finish. If it could talk, this torpedo-shaped lure could probably sell its movie
rights to Disney.
|
Before he knew it, Cummings was so enamored of classic wooden lures, he began making oversized models in his workshop. He picked up old rods and reels. He began networking with local collectors, joined the FATC and started attending the conventions in Daytona Beach, where the hardcore wheeling and dealing goes down.
Although the FATC's Stuart says attendance convinces him interest in antique lures is on the rise, Michigan's Sova says the Internet has created a true seller's market.
"The shows are interesting, you can compare notes and all that, but the Internet is killing the shows because you don't have to travel anymore to get what you want," he says. "Now, you can get on chatboards and eBay, buy and sell in no time flat, and you cut out the middleman. For me, as a serious collector, it's become a great hobby."
But for those like Cummings, there's nothing quite like spending a leisurely weekend on the road with his wife Paula ("Sweet Pea"), going from town to town, flea market to flea market, wondering what he'll see next. Sweet Pea indulges him because she's got a thing for lighthouse kitsch, and often comes home with new treasures of her own.
"The problem is," Cummings laments, "because of collecting, I don't have as much time to fish as I'd like."
Link to original article http://www.floridatoday.com/!NEWSROOM/peoplestoryP1117LURES.htm