LITTLE MAN WITH A BIG HEART

By Mike McCorkle

About 1958, two friends and myself left to go up north to look for a fishing boat for one of the two friends. I was a veteran fisherman, as I had owned my own boat for a year; a 30-foot Monterey. My friend Billy Meng had owned his 30-foot Monterey for 2 years, so we both knew our stuff! The person that wanted a boat knew nothing about fishing, but had researched the whole deal and knew he wanted a 29-foot Monterey with a 3-1 reduction gear.

We checked Monterey-Moss Landing and found a few boats matching what he wanted. He was ready to buy. I said, “Let’s keep going we can always come back.”

Our next stop was Santa Cruz wharf, with boats hanging out over the water on wooden davits. Angelina G and the St. Augustine were two nice ones. But as we kept walking out to the end of the wharf, there it was, the Catherina G lay resting, proudly, on a galvanized steel cradle. It was beautiful! The best one we had seen so far. John stepped it off and it was just the right length. “Wonder if it has a 3-1 reduction?” John asked. We asked around and, “No that’s Victor’s boat, and it’s not for sale,” everyone said.

John was sad but we went to San Francisco and John bought the Gioconda, and brought it down to Santa Barbara.

Victor never did sell Catherina G, and owned it to the day he died in 2005.

His brother John sold it to a sport guy who now wants to resell it and as I look at the boat it looks sad, no more Victor to take care of it.

I never really met Victor until the middle 80s, but I heard a lot of stories, and even knew a couple of guys Victor had taught to fish salmon. I knew him enough to say hello and shoot the breeze a little. I always checked out his boat and gear because I fished a lot of gill nets, just as he did, and I wanted to see how he did things.

When I bought my 3rd Monterey in the 90s, I was looking for a better way to fish around the hordes of sport boats, who like to stop right in front of you, which causes big problems when making tight turns. I checked out snooter poles and saw they had their problems, but had seen pictures of boats in San Francisco--Frankie Jo; J F Pomillia; Josephine--with little masts on the bow, and bow poles (snooters). Victor had bow poles on the Catherina G, so I asked him what he thought about them. He didn't say much but showed me how they were rigged up. I went home and built a set, going back and asking Victor how much weight to use, how long to make the leaders, which he told me. I asked if I could go out some time and see how they worked: “No, I don't have insurance,” he said.

“Oaky, I understand,” I told him. But I knew that wasn't the reason, but that was fine.

I went fishing on my boat Theresa Ann with my new bow poles. Everyone in Santa Barbara laughed at me! Little did they know...

I went back up and told Victor that I had been fishing with my bow poles. He winked at me and said, “They don't work do they?”

After that he must have gotten insurance because he would invite me to go fishing with him. In fact we had a big trip planed for the summer just after he passed away.

Victor was an amazing person. He survived 21 operations, cancer in his jaw. Half the jaw was cut out, and he had a stainless turnbuckle embedded in his back. He showed me an x-ray of it: Without the turnbuckle his back would have fallen apart. He was in bad pain all the time.

Victor loved to cook, making sauce-pesto from his garden; I still have a couple of jars left at home in my freezer. Victor also liked to talk and drink red table wine by the magnums.

I would go over to his house with my friend Bob, and Victor would get out the vino. Before you knew it 3-4 magnums were down the hatch. Because Victor knew we had come a long way, he would get out his special treat: cheese, and those little gold fish crackers...what a way to top off a good glass of wine!

I was always asking him questions, “What’s your favorite spoon?” He would go back to the spoon painting room and comeback with one and wink, “this one here, give it a try.” He liked to paint a certain spoon white, and put a black dot on it. The dots were perfect. I had to know how he did that. “With this pencil eraser,” he told me, “dip it in the paint and bingo!, a perfect spot.”

See what one can learn by asking.

Victor was always busy doing something, making up fishing gear, working in his garden. One day I stopped by. He said, “Look at this, special garlic from Italy. I'll give you some when it's ready.” The next week it rained about 7 inches and the garlic was gone. He was really sad because he couldn't replace it.

Victor was only about 4ft. 9in. and weighed about a hundred pounds at most, but he always wore a big wide leather black belt with a brass buckle. I always joked with him asking if it was strong enough to hold his pants up. Victor loved to talk about politics and had strong views on things, one being sport fishermen. I got Mick Kronman to write a story about Victor for National Fisherman magazine. Victor said it would be okay, to bring him over. I told Mick that when we got to his house get ready to have a little snort before he could get down to business. Victor would always give you half a water glass of good red wine and continue re-filling it if it went down one inch. “Come on, have a little more,” he’d cajole as he was filling it up. 

As Mick talked, he asked Victor about the war, Victor said he didn't want to talk about it. We then went to check out Victors pictures and there were some war pictures, Americans with no heads, things like that. “See why he doesn't want to talk,” I said. Then we came to the ones of Victor standing with both arms around two of the most beautiful South Sea island girls with no tops, a big smile on his face. He talked about them.

I came across a photo album of 10 x 12, black & white, beautiful pictures of Victor with his shirt off, in his early 80's. “What’s this?” I asked.

“Oh, a girl had me pose for those. I don't know why she picked me, but I didn't do anything with her,” he answered. He was always a gentleman.

Victor had two garages at his house. One filled with long line gear and salmon gear, and one with sea bass gill nets, which he wanted to sell. Knowing a couple of guys interested in them, I took the first one to Victor’s house, and Victor told him what he wanted for the nets. My friend told Victor he could build new nets for that price, and we left. Victor asked me later, “How come he didn't try to deal with me?”

“Because,”  I said. “He’s a cheap skate. He wanted the nets free.” Later the same guy built new ones, but for double the money.

Next I took my other friend over. We had to have a drink and talk awhile, so Victor could size him up. Then out to the net barn and we checked out the nets and Victor gave him a price, lower than the first guy. My friend said, “How much for all the nets and ropes?”

Victor told him, and my friend said okay. We started loading them into the truck, and Victor was pulling the nets out, working like a beaver, my friend said, “That little man can really work.” Of course we had to have a couple of beers after we got done. Victor was 86 yrs old then. Not only did he give him all the nets, all the ropes too, but anchors, and buoys, everything until the truck was overflowing.

Bob and I were returning from the salmon swap-meet in 2005, we headed straight for Victor’s house in Santa Cruz, got there just before dark. I got out, looked in the kitchen window and saw Victor sitting in a chair with a walker by his side and a Filipino nurse standing by him. I told myself something’s not right here, but we knocked and she let us in. Victor looked sad and weak, but was glad to see us; no spark in his eye though. He said he had gotten double-pneumonia and almost died. It was the 7th time in his life this happened, and he didn't think he was going to make it this time. We talked awhile. I gave him a box of his favorite spoons. He asked, “Where did you get these?”

I said, “I saved them special for you.”

He told me, “I’ll fix them up. We'll go out this summer and get some fish.” And with that Victor started to come alive, which meant we were going to have a little wine, which was a no-no for him. He told the nurse to get a bottle, she wasn't stoked on the idea, but she did it. We only had a couple of magnums, and he was on fire, spark in his eye, the old Victor. He said, “Come back tomorrow, we'll talk some more.”

We came back the next day, and when we got there Victor was in the spoon painting room, leaning on his walker while painting those spoons. We talked a while and left, me happy to see him maybe getting well.

A couple of weeks later Victor passed away in his sleep. I miss him a great deal, but I know he had a good life and never gave up, as he lived to fish.

I asked him one day, “What was the worst thing that ever happened to you?”

He said it was when he got his hand caught under a black cod line on the roller and it cut off 4 off his fingers, but that he didn't stop pulling until he got all the gear on the boat. Now he has a hard time holding onto things he said. This happened when he was 80 yrs. old.

They don't make them like that any more. I wonder often what happened, knowing that no one lives forever.