Fish Stories

Standing in the shade of a Jim Riverbank cottonwood, I held the long bamboo pole tightly, not wanting any fish to get away. I watched the red and white bobber floating on the water, hoping that soon it would go down-down. Soon seemed like a long time for a six-year-old.

Then the magic happened! Away went the bobber. So excited, I pulled the pole straight up. The line, fish and all flew over my head and wrapped itself around the cottonwood’s branches. I looked up, there hung my first catch!

My father, Pete Adkins, let out a hearty laugh! After all, how do you learn to fish without a few mistakes?

Jim River. Circa, 1950s

I think the bamboo pole may have come from the Mattas side of my family. In 1894, great grandparents, Joe and Vincincia bought a house nestled on the banks of the Jim River, not far from Milltown. It was a short walk to prime fishing. 

The Mattas family home. Children are Henry, Bill, Steve, Joe Jr., George, Amelia, Lil. Not pictured: Mayme.  Circa, 1897

River fishing. Circa, 1898

Fishing was not only a way to enjoy the summer but helped feed the eight Mattas children. All of them learned how to fish. Family lore has it the sisters were better at it than their brothers! They even enticed their friends to fish.

George Mattas at the Mattas Place. Circa, 1920s

Lil Mattas and her friend, Grace Adkins. Circa, 1920s

The family pretty much ate all they caught! My cousin, Chuck Mize and his father Everett would take Grandma Amelia (Mattas) Mize fishing.

If they caught carp, they would try to hide it from her. Though smoked carp is tasty to some, Grandma would bake it covered with tomatoes and onions-not her best dish!

 Thankfully, that family recipe has been lost.

My great uncle, Henry Mattas sometimes employed a unique way of fishing.

His grandson, Steve Mattas recalls, “In the summertime carp would float near the surface of the Jim River water. My grandpa would shoot them with his “22” rifle.

I was happy to jump into the river, swim out and collect the fish. Grandma, Christina (Breck) would cut them into little pieces and fry them like chislic.

 I thought they were really good!”

The family pretty much ate all they caught! My cousin, Chuck Mize and his father Everett would take Grandma Amelia (Mattas) Mize fishing.

If they caught carp, they would try to hide it from her. Though smoked carp is tasty to some, Grandma would bake it covered with tomatoes and onions-not her best dish!

 Thankfully, that family recipe has been lost.

My great uncle, Henry Mattas sometimes employed a unique way of fishing.

His grandson, Steve Mattas recalls, “In the summertime carp would float near the surface of the Jim River water. My grandpa would shoot them with his “22” rifle.

I was happy to jump into the river, swim out and collect the fish. Grandma, Christina (Breck) would cut them into little pieces and fry them like chislic.

 I thought they were really good!”

In the early days, the Mattas family would gather their friends and relatives to have picnics on the Milltown hills.

To feed that many people you needed a large quantity of fish, fast. Great uncle Henry and his brothers would go down to the Jim River, throw a stick of dynamite in.

Presto, the river filled with stunned fish, enough to feed the many picnic guests.

Mattas family picnic. Circa, 1920s

Most of the time, however, in early years, fishing was done with bamboo poles. Using those same poles, many grandchildren were taught the “art” of fishing. 

Mayme and Lil Mattas. Circa, 1934

Getting those 10 foot long poles to the river was a challenge. It was a 12-mile drive from our house. My dad used to tie them to the door handles of our old Chevy. We would roll the windows down and hang on to them so they wouldn’t blow too much in the wind.

The bait of choice was worms. Great uncle Henry Mattas would take his grandson, Steve, to the chicken coop to dig those worms. Henry had a coffee can for each person who went fishing. His rule - everyone needed at least 100 worms.

As a child the first thing you were taught was how to thread that slimy worm onto the hook. If it was not done properly, the worm was lost in the current of the river or nibbled off by a fish you wouldn’t catch. My sisters and I rebelled at baiting our own hooks, to no avail.

Most importantly you were taught the importance of silence. “Shush, you’ll scare the fish away!”

Some of the best eating fish from the river were catfish, bullheads and crappies. Over the years, catching the largest catfish became a source of pride and part of local contests that became newsworthy.

My uncle, Benny Wiess along with his wife, Margie (Adkins) avidly fished the river.

In 1949 he caught an 8 and half pound catfish, only to be bested by Wesley Sinkbell in that year’s contest. Other catches were reported in the Parkston Advance Newspaper for years.

Margie and Benny Wiess on the Jim River. Circa, 1940s

Steve Mattas. Circa, 1920s

According to family lore, one of the biggest catfish taken from the Jim River weighed 75 pounds. My great uncle Steve caught it in the 1900s. Folks remember him walking up to the Mattas place, the fish slung over his shoulder. 

The Jim River remained a favorite place for my family to fish for years. However, a new lake created from the south fork of Twelve Mile Creek that flowed into the river became another – Dimock Lake.

In the 1930s, during the drought and depression, the federal government, through the WPA, dammed the Creek to make it a 148 square acre lake. According to DNR records, its deepest point was 16 feet.

Local farmers helped build the dam. According to Gary Nelson, whose family lived about a mile north, “My dad, Emory was paid a dollar a day if he brought his horses down to help move the dirt for the berm.”

Dimock Lake. Circa 1950s

Not only did the Jim River donate some of its water to the lake, it helped stock the crappies that the lake became known for.

 In 1934, Deputy Game Warden, Charles Fergusen, reported in the Parkston Advance Newspaper that he had planted 480 breeder crappies taken from the Jim.

Fishing was prohibited in Dimock Lake for a few years until the stock was established. But when it did open, my dad, Pete Adkins took full advantage of the tasty crappies caught there.

Pete Adkins. Circa, 1949

Gary Nelson recalls, “One mile south of our farm was Lake Dimock. I loved to walk to the lake as a youngster and play. Sometimes I would fish and catch bullheads.

If they were big enough we would eat them but the smaller ones I’d put in the stock tank hoping they would grow there. Once I caught a northern pike of several pounds. My mother fixed it for dinner. It was big enough for a family meal." 

Just like the Jim River, Dimock Lake created memories for children. 

Both in the Jim River and in Dimock Lake there was a creature that some considered a threat and others a delicacy – the snapping turtle!

Elnora (Bentliff) Martin, whose family owned property along the Jim River in Milltown remembers people coming specifically to catch the turtles. The soup made from the meat was highly prized.

Great Uncle Henry Mattas was thrilled when he caught one. The Mattas were fond of turtle soup! See this month's recipe.

Others saw them as a threat to the fishing population, and those that fished. Supposedly their jaws could snap a finger off!

But in all the years my family fished the Jim and Lake Dimock, no one that we knew ever lost any body parts to turtles.

Cousins Marvin O'Grady and Gary Nelson displaying a snapping turtle they taunted in Dimock Lake!  Circa, 1950s

Henry Mattas. Circa, 1920s

Summer is here again, and I know there are people fishing on the banks of the Jim River and Dimock Lake. I hope you make memories like these.

My cousin, LaVae (Rauscher) Marquardt remembers, “My father, Mart was a great fisherman. He sometimes caught so many he would trade them for meat to farmers who didn’t fish. Sometimes he would take me fishing in the evening down to the Jim River. We would build a fire. We sat in silence, listening for the sound of the reel turning, it meant of course we caught a fish!”

La Vae learned early on to “shush.”

I too was “shushed.” We couldn’t scare the fish. But in that silence, I remember hearing the sound of frogs, and lapping water, and the wind in the Jim River cottonwoods.

But most of all, I remember the sound of my father’s laughter at the site of my first catch hanging in the tree!

Special thanks to Steve Mattas,  Gary Nelson, Elnora Martin, Terry Grajkowske, Chuck Mize, LaVae Marquardt, Gloria and Russ Leonard.