Part one of a series
Maybe on the bank of a river, smaller stream or a slough (rhyming with flew), there was the thrill of the pursuit and the later savoring of the flavor. It could involve a family, a couple of buddies or just one person. When growing up on a farm in the 1940s and 1950s, fishing was one of the few enjoyable activities for which there was time and also affordable,” recalled area historian David Beckman.
Even in town, fishing created treasured memories. “The nice thing about being raised in Caledonia was you could experience many of these adventures on your own,” said Paul Wagner. “I can’t remember the first time I saw a trout, but I am guessing my age was about four or five… At least two or three times a week, our kitchen sink was filled with a limit of beautiful trout… The desire to be able to fish for trout was almost more than I could bear.”
For Wagner, it was the pursuit of trout – brook, brown or rainbow – in “so many streams in the Caledonia area.” Fishing around Rushford yielded carp, redhorse, suckers, catfish and if you were fortunate – northern pike. For Beckman near the Mississippi River, there might be pickerel, carp, dogfish and northern Pike. In backwaters near the Mississippi, his fish of choice was either redhorse or bullhead, the latter a freshwater catfish that Beckman called “yellow-bellied bullhead.” Bullhead were delicious when coated with flour and fried in a cast iron skillet with lots of butter.
Bullhead were plentiful in numerous sloughs that were formed by the Mississippi and Root River throughout eastern Houston County. A slough was a backwater or body of water out of the main current of a larger body. “Most sloughs were not very large, about two to five acres,” wrote Beckman. “They all had deep holes where the fish could survive the winter while some even had a small creek flowing through providing fresh water.”
Photo submitted
Not much walking was needed to reach Anderson, Krumrie and Miller sloughs, all along Highway 16. However, it was a half-mile walk along railroad tracks to reach the Beckman brothers’ favorite slough. By the late 1940s, there were few trains. A railroad bridge divided the slough in half. “Walking a railroad bridge was a difficult task for a youngster with short legs,” said Beckman.
Most Beckman fishing outings included the two brothers and both parents. Sometimes aunts, uncles and cousins would go along, especially on Sunday afternoons following church. The ladies would pack a lunch. There was always a good spot to throw down a blanket for a picnic in pastures, cleared by grazing livestock. Lunch was often interrupted by a “mad dash to pull in a fish.”
Later in the afternoon, it would be back to the farm where the men would clean the fish and the women would start preparing the evening meal. However, the fish fry had to wait until the men had completed chores and milking. “Waiting for supper was almost more than I could handle,” recalled Beckman.
In the early 1950s, the two Beckman brothers were all-night fishermen from a float below the Dresbach Dam in the Mississippi River. Floats provided fishing closer to the current for people who did not have boats. A small shop that sold candy bars, worms and some gear, was not open overnight. “Without lots of backup gear, it would be a long night before morning if your reel broke,” said Beckman.
The float on the Wisconsin side of the river was anchored on an island, accessible by boat. From Minnesota, there was a pontoon ferry during daylight hours. After evening chores, the boys would catch the last ferry. “We and a few other diehards were trapped until the first ferry in the morning.”
They could cast 50 yards into the swirling waters below the dam. “Hooking into a fish in those waters meant a good fight ahead. Most of the fish were bluegill with an occasional perch or crappie. Seldom was a fish too small to keep. It was always a thrill when a large fish like a walleye or northern would strike the popper. It could take five minutes to land a big fish.” They could also go ashore, walk up to the spillway and cast for large fish.
“We took a thermos with water, some sandwiches and a few snacks to nibble on, but there was little time for eating when night fishing. Apparently bright lights shining from the dam attracted hordes of insects hovering over the illuminated water that provided easy feeding for mostly pan fish.” By morning, the boys’ five gallon milk can was usually full of fish plus a few more on the stringer.
Farther west at Rushford in Fillmore County, the Root River, Pine Creek and Rush Creek offered plenty of opportunity as did the dam that diverted some river water into the man-made canal that supplied water to the power plant. Youngsters could reach these sites by bicycle.
Many fished below the dam. Some crossed the Root River by walking on the dam’s apron, where water was not deep. But there was a current which caused hesitation for some. While walking on the apron, one might step on a fish called a stoneroller. While holding the fish in place with your foot, you could grab it with your hand.
Down the canal at the power plant, some fished behind the railings and from the side banks. Just east of Rush Creek, the Root River turned south, where after a flood, silt would be deposited on the bank, providing an unobstructed place to sit and fish.
In the 1950s, the Root River looped north behind Carlson’s gas station, where the bend in the river provided a stronger current. Fishing there near the bridge often resulted in the loss of hooks, lines and sinkers. It was said that these mishaps were caused by fishing lines being snagged by parts of the bridge that were submerged.
Sources: “Trout Fishing – Then & Now” by Paul Wagner published in “Caledonia Pride,1854-2004,” Alan Fleischmann, editor; “A View from Main Street – History of Rushford (Vol. VI); writings of David Beckman and other personal recollections