My Friend the Black Bass

Politics and fishing have been familiar bedfellows virtually forever, with numerous well-known U.S. Congressmen, Senators and Presidents enjoying piscatorial pursuits and advocating on behalf of anglers and conservation. A few have even written on the subject of fishing, with our 31st President, Herbert Hoover, probably being the most notable. Hoover published a full-length book on fishing in 1963, titled Fishing for Fun – And to Wash Your Soul. But 30 years before Hoover published his book, another national politician wrote a wonderful book on bass fishing that has become one of my favorites in my personal library. My Friend the Black Bass was written by Harry B. Hawes and published in 1930 and, like other vintage angling books, follows the familiar format of fish biology, tackle, methods, and personal preferences and advice. But what separates Hawes’ book from the others is his easy-going conversational and, dare I say, fun writing style. The text is peppered with light-hearted stories, opinions and experiences from Hawes, and Hawes writes with an authority that could only come from being an experienced, successful, and analytical angler. Bass fishing was more than just a hobby or casual pastime with Hawes, it was a passion and a driving force in his life and political career…and that brings us to Hawes’ biography, which I’ll very sparsely outline before getting back to the book.

Harry Bartow Hawes was born on my birthday, November 15, 1869, in Kentucky. The Hawes family had a strong history in politics and in the military. He moved to St. Louis, Missouri in 1887 and began his legal and political career. Among other pursuits he formed a successful law firm and became a highly regarded lawyer. He played a key role in the United States acquiring Hawaii as a U.S. territory. He was also appointed to the St. Louis Board of Police by the Missouri Governor, where he earned positive notoriety for handling crisis situations. He unsuccessfully ran for Missouri governor before successfully winning a seat on the Missouri House of Representatives. His own family had a military background (his father was a Captain in the Confederate Army, and was wounded at the Battle of Shiloh), so when America entered  World War I in 1917 Hawes resigned from his seat in the Missouri House to enlist in the Army, where he served in Military Intelligence working in France and Spain. He achieved the rank of Major before being discharged in 1919.

Upon his return to the states Hawes was quickly elected to the United States House of Representatives, where he served three terms before being elected to the Senate. As a Senator he made his mark with flood control, wildlife conservation, and legislation that eventually led to the independence of the Philippine Islands. When Hawes retired from office in 1933 he continued to be a force for conservation and staunchly supported the stocking of bass in Missouri rivers and streams. Hawes died on July 31, 1947, at the age of 77. His cremated remains were scattered in the Current River in southern Missouri. That is an extremely abbreviated biography of the man, but enough I think to give you an idea of the kind of active, influential, and colorful life Hawes lived. He also wrote other books, including Fish and Game: Now or Never, Philippine Uncertainty: An American Problem, and Dogs and a Suggestion.

One thing I’ve noticed in reading pre-1950 fishing books, is that a lot of them contain sections where the author emphasizes both the healing nature of the pursuit as well as the ethics of fishing for sport. Of course a great many books throughout the last 100 years or so talk about these things, but it seems to me that a number of pre-1950 authors especially write poetically about it. I have to say that Harry Hawes may have written the most persuasive and eloquent argument for the positive physical and emotional attributes of fishing I’ve ever read. Below is the sermon according to Hawes.

The angler does not search for fish alone. He seeks relaxation, peace, quiet, and the opportunity for reflection. His is a sport that refreshes tired brain and nerves, brightens the eye and quickens the step. It is not to be judged by the number of the catch, but by the size of the fish and the number returned to the water. One of the charms of fishing is the endless speculation, and uncertainty of it. If we estimate by the number of fish he catches, then the market fisher will always be the better man or the cleverer fisherman.

There is always some “boy” still lurking in the grown-up man who is a fisherman. And one merit of this pastime is that it helps to preserve the “spirit of the boy,” and this, I am firmly convinced, is an aid to longevity. I have seen in our biggest men–statesmen, manufacturers, bankers, lawyers, and doctors–during their moments of relaxation, something of the “kid.” And whatsoever man loses this loses what can not be replaced.

Though I prefer, and sometimes insist, that I shall fish alone, nevertheless fishing without a comrade, or even a party of four or five, costs much of its pleasure. For the pleasures of fishing consist not only in the sport itself, but in the “post-mortem” which is held each evening. The conversation at night, when the experiences of the day are recounted and tales are told and retold; when opinions are bartered, and the relative value and efficiency of lures and flies are discussed–this is but one of the joys of the camaraderie of the camp.

…Fishing is like any other game: The more you learn about it the more interesting it becomes, and the more study you give to it the more certain you are that there is much more to be known. It is ever changing, never the same, always different. You have the water and the boat, the sky and clouds, the shore-line with rocks and trees, the birds and other wild fowl that come and go; wind and calm; the rising sun; the camp at noon; the rare coloring of the sunset; the evening meal; the story; the trading of the day’s adventures–then a fine sleep. Come then, too, better health, a finer philosophy, and a new energy for the work ahead, a fresh interest in life. 

Hawes uses the phrase “parlor fishing” in his section of My Friend the Black Bass that covers the techniques, equipment and methods to best catch bass. As best I could glean “parlor fishing” is a synonym for “sport fishing,” although he’s not exactly clear about that. In any event, Hawes gives much the usual advice for successfully choosing equipment and employing it to good advantage, and he moves smoothly between his two favored types of fishing: fly fishing and bait casting. It’s easy and enjoyable reading, but does not necessarily break new ground from other books of that era (see my reviews “Black Bass and Bass Craft, Sheridan R. Jones, Part 3” and “Angling Preacher O.W. Smith”). What really interested me in Hawes’ book were his personal anecdotes and unexpected inclusions.

For example, Hawes lived at a time when railroad travel was the usual way to get to wilderness areas to fish out of backcountry fishing camps. He offers his advice on how to organize such a trip and the types of anglers to include in the camp. He also presents easily readable chapters on “Unpleasant Things” and “Some of the Pleasant Things” associated with wilderness bass fishing. You get a real picture of what backcountry camps were like from Hawes’ writing and, I have to say, even with his warnings about and remedies for mosquitos, chiggers, sunburn, and snakes, the “pleasant things” he talks about and the fondness he obviously had for those railroad excursions makes me long for those days gone by.

Hawes also gives special mention and considerable space to the value of carrying a .22 caliber handgun along on backcountry bass fishing trips. Hawes was a Democrat but given his views on the Second Amendment, religion, rugged individualism and other subjects, he would scarcely be recognized or accepted by that political party today. In his section on the value of carrying a handgun, Hawes the politician rises to the forefront as he writes, “We are passing laws which leave the criminal with his revolver, while they deprive the law-abiding citizen of his.” He continues,

On January 24, 1924, I made this statement in the House of Representatives:

“Our forefathers came with the Bible in one hand and the rifle in the other. Some of their descendants have lost the rifle; some the Bible; some both the Bible and the rifle. Let us restore the confidence and strength that a knowledge of the rifle brings. Let us restore the spiritual strength the Bible gives! Let us help to bring back both by the purchase of a piece of the big ‘Outdoors,’ where strong men in spiritual power find the best nourishment.”

Hawes predictably winds down his excellent book with his views on conservation, of which he was a staunch advocate and legislator. You’ll recall that Hawes heralded the “catch-and-release” ethic in his brief sermon on the attributes of fishing I shared above. Hawes certainly embodied the best traits of the outdoorsman and sporting angler. He was knowledgeable and experienced, skilled with his equipment and the methods he employed, and eager to embrace the total angling experience as a route to physical, mental and spiritual well-being. He also had an inner joy and exuberance for life, a sense of humor, and an ability to communicate in a personal and intimate way with readers (and, I assume, voters as well, given his longtime success as a politician).

I can’t recommend this book enough. It was a revelation and a joy to read, as prior to acquiring it I had no idea of Harry B. Hawes, his political career or his love of bass fishing. I certainly wasn’t expecting a politician to present such an engaging and well-written bass fishing book. You can still find My Friend the Black Bass from the usual online sources, although the prices are unpredictable. I was fortunate to acquire mine for an affordable price, and doubly fortunate that it is signed by Harry B. Hawes himself. No doubt I’ll read this book more than once in the coming years.