Part two of a series
During pioneer days of the late 1800s in southeast Minnesota, fishing and hunting were more necessities than recreation. However, as well as securing food for the family table, each did provide enjoyment. Other activities, mostly on Sundays, existed only for recreation, two of which – target shooting and bowling – along with hunting, were featured last week. Considering this week: fishing and sledding plus competition in horseshoe throwing and baseball. William J. Langen (1869-1960) left an invaluable written memoir of those olden days.
There was no standard size of horseshoe, so competitors used any size they wished. Some horseshoes were large, others smaller. Accomplished competitors repeatedly used their favorite horseshoes. Most had calks, the part of a horseshoe that projects downward to prevent slipping.
Baseball came to the Hokah area when a stranger spent the summer there with his married sister. He excelled at baseball, helped lay out a baseball diamond and even had a book of baseball rules. “We soon had a fine team,” recalled Langen. “Every Sunday found us either on our own or a neighboring diamond, and young and old enjoyed the game.”
In those days, there was no umpire calling balls or strikes. There were no walks or bases on balls. With that old rule book, a pitcher might pitch dozens of times before a batter decided to swing. Later, rules changed; pitching four balls sent a batter to first base.
Sliding (sledding) was great fun; everyone had a sled, all homemade. A sled might be sized for one person; young Langen made one large enough for two. There was a large hill at school, great for sliding. One day, a man about 25 or 30 years old came by and after watching for quite a while, finally asked Langen for his sled, saying “Now boys, I’m going to show you how I used to slide down the hill when I was a boy.” The “quite heavy-set” fellow, dressed in his Sunday finest, lying flat on the sled, gathered considerable speed as he descended. On that warm winter day, thawing mud and water dripped from the snowbank into the gutter between the road and the bank. Near the bottom of the hill, he hit something that deposited him into the gutter where he slid about four feet. Laughing all the while, the boys took sticks and kindly scraped off all the mud they could. “It called for more than a bunch of boys to clean that man up.”
Near Hokah, Lake Como, with plentiful crappies and sunfish, attracted many fishermen. Often a Sunday activity, visiting anglers frequently had little luck. But the local Hokah guys knew the best fishing spots, enjoyed repeated success and “always had a supply on hand and did a good bit of business with the luckless ones.”
In winter, it was ice fishing on the Mississippi River – sport for some, a business for others. Dotting the river were small fishing huts about four feet by four feet and five feet in height. The tiny structures were placed over a hole in the ice, and fishing was accomplished with a spear. Heated by small fires inside, they could be quite cozy. Both the air and the warmth attracted fish to the holes. “The rest was easy.”
In an era prior to passage of fishing laws, no one had ever heard of a fishing license. Any kind of fish could be caught in any amount and by any method, be it spear, net or line and hook.
After the enactment of fishing regulations, “hut fishing by spear was forbidden,” said Langen, “as no one could keep track of the catch.” Later, when ice fishing was again permitted, it was limited to the use of hook and line.
Langen recalled an older, single man, who in the 1870s fished frequently. “When he was lucky, the neighbors had fresh fish, too.” He made his own nets and learned from Native Americans how to construct a fish trap. Those traps were “woven like a basket, but in the shape of a barrel and about five feet long.” At each end was a seven-to eight-inch opening with five or six sharpened willows bent inwards to prevent the fish from swimming out. The trap was lowered into the water with a stone as an anchor. “I was about seven at the time,” said Langen, “and enjoyed watching him make the traps. I don’t think he caught many fish that way, but it was great sport for him.”
Early on, even when there was no limit, fishermen caught only as many as they could use quickly. Most fish were eaten fresh from the water, but the meat could be preserved by smoking and thereby consumed throughout the year. “The fish were cleaned but not scaled,” described Langen. “They were laid on screens skin side down and smoked until done. Then the whole outside could be peeled off.”
Early settlers constructed a dam on the Root River, which generated power for grinding wheat in flour mills in Hokah. So, when suckers came upstream each spring to spawn, they could not cross the dam. For a brief period, each spring, there were hundreds of fish available. “Everybody and his brother had to get into the game then.” There was little problem enticing a fish onto your line, but fishing then could become a competitive event. The challenge was extracting your line without it becoming entangled with the lines of your fishing neighbors who crowded the dam and adjoining river banks. “Sunday afternoon, a huge crowd would assemble and it was fun just to watch.”
Later, intended to eliminate floods, the Root River was straightened and the dam removed. And the annual, entangled fishing-line spectacle was not to be witnessed again.
Fishing, in those days, required almost no expense. “Poles grew all around,” wrote Langen. “A small stone served as a sinker… Bait was free for the digging.” A fishing line cost a nickel as did a “bunch of fish hooks.”
To be continued (marbles)…
Source: Just For Old Times Sake; History of Early Days of Hokah, Minn.. by W. J. Langen (1869-1960), proprietor of Log Cabin Museum. The book celebrated the Hokah centennial (1849-1949).
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