Way Back When There Were No Limits On Flounder

I worked as a jock on WQIK in Jax for a few years back in the late 60's early 70's. Had to pull a Sunday morning shift running two radio stations (AM and FM) with no help and no tape delay or fancy computers like they have today.

One of the preachers who "payed a dollar to holler for an hour on the tower of power" (inside joke) was from a non-denominational church in Jax. He had the live hour at 8 AM and then went home to dry off and practice his Sunday AM sermon. I swear when they sold the radio station, they must have buried the preacher microphone. After all that Sunday morning screaming and sweating and rocking and rolling around on it's stand in the almost soundproof studio B, it wasn't worth more than a decent burial.

I got to know all of the preachers who would holler for a dollar each Sunday as they all tried their best, but failed miserably, to save my soul from eternal damnation. I'm still fishin' and all of them ain't! So who's in heaven and who's ain't? Food for thought?

The rev was a special breed. He ALMOST succeeded in saving my soul but instead, he led me down very dark paths, on the near ocean waters of an area between Jacksonville and Fernandina Beach. Nassau Sound and Ft George Inlet were our favorite haunts. Monday night he was recuperating from too much chicken on Sunday afternoon, at the hands of loving parishioners. Wednesday night was church night and Friday night was fish fry night. So that left Tuesday and Thursday, on moonless nights, when the tide was coming in just after nightfall, to stick 'em.

He had an old beat all to hell Ford pickum up truck and knowledge like no other gigger I have ever known. He could actually track a flounder from their "foot prints in the sand". And with great accuracy, was able to discern how large his prey was. Remember, there was no limit on size or numbers back then. He liked to; "stick the bigun's...'cause bigger fish taste better...and they feed more sinners!"

We would drive right down to the giggin' spot (can't do that now) and park the truck right at the water's edge (can't do that either). The tide coming in was no problem because of the MANY trips to the truck bed with flounder stacked up near the top of our gigs...about a 6 ft piece of rebar sharpened on the business end and with a stack of 3-4 flounder above our gigging hand.

We would wade in the clear water with a Coleman lantern, back side covered with aluminum foil, mounted on a piece of plywood, on top of an eighteen wheeler inner tube. One of us pushed that contraption in front of us and the other gigged ahead of the light. When we giggged a slab, the sticker would slip the free hand under him and slide him up to the top of the rebar while the other would hold the light rig to keep it from drifting off into the night. Then we would put our giggin hand under the stack and look for another one. One of us would go to the truck while the other held the spot and the gigger hauled the booty to the truck and dropped it into the bed. We always checked the distance from the water to where the truck was parked when one of us would drop our load. The trick was to try to stone them so they wouldn't flop around too much and ruin our aim at the next one.

I remember MANY nights we would go home with the entire back of that old truck covered with flounder. Even when we didn't do that well, we certainly stuck enough to feed the church crowd on Friday night. One night, on the way home, rev rolled through a 4 way stop sign and a Jax City Cop stopped us and was "talked out of" giving us a ticket with a half dozen fat flats and an old cooler to take them home in his cruiser! That old man could preach the ears off an donkey and talk his way out of anything.

Many years later I still think fondly of my preacher friend in Northeast Florida who taught me the finer points of pickum up truck fishin' with a rebar gig.

Now you know why the state of Florida has a flounder limit.

Folks like us who fed the flocks!

Tight lines, J