Ok, I’m obviously bored, I’ve shoveled myself out a couple of times today plus shoveled my dad out, took him to dialysis early this morning and here I am, back at home, checking out fishin.com. It was just last weekend that I was thinking I would get the jon boat out this weekend…perhaps Taylorsville if no where else…HA! Yeah right!!! It’s obvious we’re not going to read very much on this website this weekend about how everybody did Saturday or Sunday either one, which brings me to the reason why I’m writing this. If I can’t go fishin’ I may as well lend a hand to my fellow sportsmen in feeding our minds with thoughts of fishing stuff, here goes:

I came across an article in a magazine recently that discussed the demise of bait and tackle shops all across this great country of ours, you all know the type, the small mom and pop type of bait shops…the only one or two I know of near Louisville are Smyrna Bait and Pepper Tackle, there’s also one in Indiana on the way to the ramp down below the falls but I’ve never been in it. There used to be another one on Dixie Hwy in the PRP area named Gus’s, in fact the first time I bought beer it was at Gus’s, but that’s an entirely different story. I’ll quit boring you all and get on with the story, maybe you all have some bait shop stories from when you all were kids, did any of you ever hang out at a bait shop?

The editor wrote that the lake he keeps his pontoon docked was created as a water supply impoundment for the city in which he lives, which started out as a local creek that was dammed the year he was born. The establishment of that reservoir some fifty or so years ago was responsible for his dad deciding to buy a boat instead of a set of golf clubs that spring. Dad made his decision when the local paper announced its pool had reached a level adequate for recreational boating and fishing. The lake is also responsible for guiding the editor to do what he does for a living today, which is write about boats and fishing. At one time the 3,300 acre impoundment was served by NO FEWER than five bait and tackle shops, which had established themselves in prime – and perhaps not so prime – locations around the lakes 45-mile shoreline and along the rural routes used by anglers to access the popular fishing destination.

Today, only one bait shop survives and it’s an example of a phenomenon occurring at an alarming rate from coast to coast. The other bait and tackle shops have been forced out of business due to competition found on the internet, from mail order catalog stores and in “big box” outdoor stores that have moved into the area.

Live bait, such as minnows and worms, were never money makers for these “mom and pop” shops, which survived on the fishing tackle their loyal bait-dunkers purchased when the anglers came in to by their “minners” by the dozens and dug-worms by the 50 count tub.

When rod, reel, line and lure sales dried up due to the cut-rate prices offered by businesses able to buy their tackle by the truckload and pass the bulk-load discount along to local anglers, who didn’t even have to leave home to make their purchases, the bait shops went belly up. The local fisherman took for granted that “Chubs Bait” would always be there, peddling the “shiners” and “soft shells” their once-loyal customers still required to catch fish with their discounted tackle.

It wasn’t until after the musty concrete bait tanks were drained and the battered screen doors shuttered for good that the fisherman realized it wasn’t only live bait that was no longer available. Also missing was the first hand information and advice that circulates around any working bait shop; How and when and where to sue what to catch the fish that swim in those home waters down the lane.

AWOL as well from all these businesses are all the old guys that hang around such shops, and the kids they attracted like flies, listening for morsels of fishing information, the offer of a “boat-fishing” trip, or the occasional candy bar tossed their way by a geezer feeling generous. Missing from the online stores and sports marts are those crusty “regulars” whose mere presence promotes the camaraderie that evolves at places that sell stuff like hooks, bobbers and lead head sinkers by the piece, mounted below pegboard shelves holding dusty cards displaying decades-old flies and tarnished spinners.

While tackle shopping at a computer screen there’s never that underlying odor of anise, mildew, ancient pipe tobacco or cigar smoke the editor recalls from busy Saturday mornings at “Chubs Bait”, hallowed ground to a ‘tweener bitten by the fishing bug, where even during those rare moments between the bouts of bragging among customers coming and going, the place never went completely quiet, thanks to the faint gurgle of a minnow tank bubbling away somewhere behind the counter.

If your local fishing hole still harbors a traditional bait and tackle shop, where you can expect to find everything from shysters to meal worms to someone will to re-wrap a frayed line guide before six in the morning, consider yourself fortunate. And do yourself – and all fishermen in your wake – a favor by leaving with more than a dozen fatheads and a Twinkie in your fist the next door that screen door slams against your rear end on the way out. That tackle you may have spent a few dollars for in the shop just might be worth gold down the line somewhere, when you need more than live bait to get you by.