Category Archives: black & white photography

Fishing with BJ

When I moved to the island decades ago, some of the first people I met were transplants from Michigan. Tim and Karen Merritt were a young married couple that had relocated to Salvo a couple of years prior to my arrival. Along with them was Tim’s long time friend, Brian Huff. They grew up with each other. Better known as BJ, he was different than many of my newfound friends in that he didn’t surf. He loved walking the beach, enjoying the place, its people, and he truly loved fishing. We became close friends.

1972 was a good year for drum fishing on the Hatteras Island Fishing Pier in Rodanthe. As a matter of fact, it was the same year that Elvin Hooper set the world record with a 90 pounder. In this photo taken by a pier employee, Tim Merritt (left) and BJ Huff (right) display their big drum, also known as channel bass. They were in excess of 50 pounds each. The pier was longer then, and the best fishing was in the worst weather.

A few years later in 1975, the locals were catching some sizable sharks, mostly late at night. It took BJ over an hour to land this hammerhead. There were some appreciative onlookers that night. They posed with BJ for this photograph. From left to right: Bruce Midgett, Larry Midgett, BJ, Butch Luke, Tim Merritt and Jimmy Hooper. The shark was cleaned and all the meat packaged. Our freezer was stocked, that is until we tried eating it. It was full of cartilage and unpalatable. As much as we didn’t want to waste any, it all had to be thrown out.

New Inlet up on Pea Island was one of our favorite spots. I used to walk out on the old bridge, and hang strings with chicken necks over the side. I always brought home a good catch of hard crabs. At one point, BJ learned where the deep holes and channels were located. He would cast sting ray grubs on to the edges and catch flounders or speckled trout. I took this photo of him casting in 1975.

BJ enjoyed fishing the waters of Pamlico Sound. Our friend Gary Bishop had a boat and took us out at Hatteras to a spot called the cobia stake. It was named for a channel marker piling near the inlet. In this photo taken around 1976, BJ reels in a nice cobia. Gary caught two. By the time we made it back home, it was getting dark. We went to the pier at Rodanthe to weigh and clean them, when I took this photograph below.

BJ and I were roommates for about 2 years. We lived in a trailer in Salvo rented from Barbara Midgett for $200 a month. It had 3 bedrooms. One for each of us, and one for my darkroom. During that time, our lives were relatively carefree. All we worried about was making enough to feed ourselves and pay the rent. BJ also had the pressure of making payments for his nice GMC pickup truck. Most of us drove vehicles that had tendencies to break down. BJ was always kind enough to let us use his dependable truck in a pinch.

March of ’78 was a cold one. We kept warm by chopping wood gathered on the beach. There were plenty of oak planks washing in back then. Note BJ’s 16 foot wooden skiff in the background. He bought the boat from Les Hooper.

Inside was warm and cozy, even when the electricity went off. We had no TV, only a KLH turntable to spin a meager record collection. We listened to jazz and blues, mostly. The parlor stove was given to me by my Aunt Jo. She had just moved out of an old house, in San Marino California, where General Patton was born. That stove was a very functional piece of history. We used a cinder block to replace the missing rear legs. The stove eventually cracked and fell apart. To replace it, BJ bought a big pot bellied stove from Les Hooper.

BJ did a lot of beach-combing. Most of the time, he’d bring home some seashells or driftwood. Sometimes the bluefish would be running, pursuing bait and other fish. One day he caught this nice trout without a fishing rod, picking it up with his bare hands, right off the beach. Photograph below was taken in 1977.

Another day in 1977, BJ found something very unusual. We had no idea what it was, and used it as a bookend for over a year. As I recall, it also made a good door stop.

My girlfriend at the time was a college student, and very curiously took it to be examined at the Smithsonian in Washington. It turned out to be a 10 to 20 thousand year old molar from a wooly mammoth, a significant find indeed.

Around 1980, BJ and I were building a saltbox in Buxton Woods for friends, Jim and Marcia Lyons. During construction the fishing got good, so Jim and BJ left for a short time and returned with a stringer of gray trout. We always ate well.

In 1980, I had been working for Alex Kotarides a few years. He owned a large bakery in Norfolk, but had an estate in Salvo. I did waterfowl hunting guide work for him in the winter. Other times, I worked odd jobs for Alex, including construction of the new house, raising ducks and geese, then a stint at commercial fishing that Spring. I got BJ to help me.

We used 3000 yards of gill net, plus had access to Alex’s small fleet of boats. We fished half the nets in shallow water near Gull Island. The other half we set in deeper water past the reef. We had good results, out catching the locals nearly every day. In this shot taken by BJ, I had just pulled in a nice red drum from the deeper water. It was a beautiful sight to behold, glowing in the submerged net below. We were fishing in a 23 foot Sea Ox at the time.

Other times we fished from a 21 foot wooden boat, called Falcon, built by Willy Austin in Avon. It had an inboard 4-cylinder Ford Pinto engine set up for marine use. It was a nice handling boat with a full keel. We loaded up with fish for a month before retiring the rig when the bull nosed skates migrated through Pamlico Sound.

That was the last fishing I did with BJ. He went on to live in Avon working construction, got a girlfriend, married her and they had a baby boy. They moved back to Michigan, and split up after a while.

I didn’t see BJ for years. He remarried, had a daughter and moved to Charlotte. He came back briefly, perhaps 20 years ago. He did some exceptional restoration work for us at the Chicamacomico Lifesaving Station, then returned to Charlotte.

After a prolonged absence from the island, BJ suddenly showed up at my gallery door one day just a few years ago. Expecting a gallery customer, I must have had an expression of un-recognition on my face, only to hear him say, “BJ”. I knew then, it was my good friend again.

I could tell that he missed Hatteras Island, yet still felt a close connection. He returned several more times, looking up lots of old friends. He seemed to rediscover himself. It was great to see him again. He returned Spring of 2011 and spent the weekend with me.

Back in Charlotte, he kept in touch by telephone. A pain in his shoulder caused him to see a doctor. It was cancer. I spoke to him a few more times before Hurricane Irene. The storm made our phone service go down. BJ tried to call again, but was unable to get through. I didn’t speak with BJ again. He passed away on September 6, a week after the storm. He was 61 and will be missed by many.

Thanks for the memories, BJ!





Soul Surfers

My interest in surfing began in the 60’s, when I saw a Surfer Magazine for the first time. Even though it took me a few more years to actually ride a wave, I was hooked on the beauty and nature of surfing.

As a young college student, I knew it was time to jump ship when I found myself in chemistry class with a copy of Surfer wedged into my textbook. I left and moved to the beach. That was a turning point for me, and life’s path was narrowed down to where it would lead me today.

Louie getting ready for a paddle at the Shoals in Rodanthe, 1974. Back then nearly everyone surfed at the Lighthouse, and bypassed our villages.

I drifted into a network of friends that were also absorbed in the surfing culture. To us, it wasn’t a sport at all, but an almost spiritual way of life. Living carefree and day to day, we were essentially dropouts from what was typical America. Most of us weren’t looking for the two-car garage and the white picket fence dreams of most of our contemporaries. Waves were the most important thing, at times super-ceding jobs and even girl friends.

About 1968, I met Gary Revel at South Side, Indian River Inlet. His surfing took on a dynamic quality. He was among my new found surfing companions and could have easily gone into professional levels, but chose not to. We became life-long friends and still keep in touch. This photo of him cutting back at South Side was taken over 40 years ago, when I was just beginning to hone my photography skills.

Louie Batzler at South Side circa 1970. We surfed and traveled together for many years. As a trained brick mason, he found us construction jobs that provided our income.

Mark Foo was a very young kid, but hung around the older surfers. He was very driven and loved surfing more than anything. He used to wake me up for dawn patrol by tossing pebbles at my bedroom window. He could be a pest at times. Mark went on to the Hawaiian Islands, became a world renown big wave rider, and a highly successful entrepreneur. In 1994, he tragically lost his life while surfing Maverick’s in California.

The gang at Barton Decker’s surf shop circa 1974.

Summer of 1975, we gave these two hitch-hiking surfers a ride, while driving to Cape Hatteras Lighthouse for a big north swell.

Mike Langowski, known as the Polock, rode his long boards even after board designs got shorter. 1977 photo taken at the lighthouse.

Dave Elliot and Jeff Ray checking the waves in the village of Waves. That was the first order of the day, to dictate what you did with your time. No waves, then you do something else, like go fishing or work on your broken down car. Dave was a stylish surfer, especially longboarding. Jeff was also a competent and well-traveled surfer. He later introduced me to Costa Rica in 1982.

Robin, Bryant, Brent and Roger all pitch in to sand a hot coat on a board that I shaped for Roger. We lived in 2 trailers on the oceanfront in Waves. Little did we realize that there would be million dollar beach houses on this property 35 years later…. nor did we care.

Brent Clark on a beautiful Pea Island wave in 1974. This secret spot had a hard bottom well offshore. From the beach, the waves looked much smaller than they actually were. It was a really long paddle, several hundred yards out, and broke like a reef point for about five years. It had some of the largest and best shaped waves that I ever rode, and only about 10 people knew about it.

Classic car collection at the Hatteras Island Surf Shop.

Another classic car ready to roll.

“Holly” waits for the next duck hunting trip, while Robin Gerald sits on his  VW squareback, ready to find the next wave.

TO BE CONTINUED……



Camera with a View

I am an admirer of some of the great masters of early photography. It was not only their vision that made the work great, but in many cases, the types of equipment used. They didn’t have the huge array of advanced cameras to choose from, like we do today. Things were a lot more primitive. 

 

One of my favorite early photographers is Edward Weston. He shot with an 8×10 view camera. Can you imagine a finished 8 inch by 10 inch negative? His black and white prints are exquisite, and have a tonal quality and sharpness that is hard to describe. In 1978, I had the pleasure of attending a photography workshop in Carmel, California, where I studied under his son, Cole.

 

Working in 35mm, I could see the superior quality of large format photography. I examined gallery prints made by Ansel Adams, Edward Weston and his sons Brett and Cole, among others. When I got back home on the east coast, I wanted to apply some large format in my own work. View cameras are expensive. But when I saw an ad in American Photographer  for a kit to build my own 4×5 view camera, I jumped at the chance. For $85, it included the lens plate, ground glass, bellows, shifts and tilts, everything except a lens. My friend Allen Jones who was attending RIT at the time, scored my Ilex Acuton 215mm lens for $250 in Rochester.

 

camera

The assembled 4×5 view camera kit, designed by architect, Les Fader

 

Using the finished camera became a learning experience, and I made some mistakes. There were issues with light leaks between the film holders and the camera, and sheet film developing techniques, but I eventually kinda got the hang of it. On the windy, often stormy conditions of the Outer Banks, the bulky view camera has it limitations. So I used it mainly for still life compositions around commercial fishing harbors. 

 

 

EdwinJr

The “Edwin Jr.” derelict at Avon Harbor

 

crabber

Crab Skiff at Avon Harbor

 

net skiff

Net Skiff, Rodanthe Creek

 

shad boat

Shad Boat, Rodanthe Creek

 

Collins Gray

Longhauler, Collins Gray at Rodanthe Fish House

 

Narrows

Knapp’s Narrows at Tilghman Island, Maryland

 

Chicamacomico

Chicamacomico Winter, 1980

 

snowdune

A Dune near Buxton

 

whelk

A Tribute to Weston

 

Glassx6

Broken Glass, Rodanthe Creek

 

I made about 60 Tri-X negatives, then decided to put the camera away. It was a lot of effort to use. And as photographer Ernst Haas, once told my class, shooting with a view camera was “like carrying the cross”. In a way, that wasn’t far from the truth. Besides at the time, it didn’t quite fit my style of shooting. I never even printed most of the images.

 

Then a few months ago, I found some negatives stored, with silica gel, in an old ammo box. For the past month, I’ve been making prints. Some beautiful 16×20’s too. I can’t tell you what a refreshing change it is from the popular digital shooting arena. Printing in black and white again is like finding an old long lost friend. Don’t be surprised if you see some new work from this old camera.