Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1900-09-22
MISSISSIPPI BLOCK FISHING.
The Maximum of Returns for tn,
Minimum of Labor,


From the Chicago Record. ..z
The Mississippi looks to be one Of the
LATEST OF streams. Tawny and huge, 1t
drltts down silently to the gulf round
sandy bars and past high banks here and
there gnawlng into the shore and topping
down tree, and at times seeming to lie
quietly In the sun, basking giant, But
under the dull looking surface the current
runs swift and strong. especially where the
water is deepest, and the strongest of
swimmers must not take too many chances
with this river. AS it drops down lower in
its course and receives the volume of the
Missouri the water takes on that muddy
tirge which follows 1t to the sea, and it's
character changes to a semi tropical sun
burnt body Of water. The black bass of
the upper Mississippi are not in evidence
mere, but the catfish of commerce, the yaw-
tiled and nimble channel "cat" and the yell
!oW-bellled and monstrous catfish, whose
JOY Is In grubbing deep in the mud at the
bottom OF the river, are here in plenty
The river bottom is their feeding ground
and home, and in countless thousands they
roam up and down, eating anything they
chew and betimes resting quietly on the
bottom Of the stream. The catfish Is good
eating and the channel cat" especially Is
fancied by the denizens of the Mississippi
valley.
These consist of the poor white" the
negro, the river men, the "roustabouts,"
both black and white; the "houseboat' wan
derers, and others. The main thing in
which all these different types agree is in
!azlness. There is no better place on earth
to study shiftlessness than in the Misss-
sippi valley. The negro, slouching down
the bank with his one suspender and jean
trousers his hickory shirt and greasy
slouch hat, Is almost carica ture of
slavery days. The "po' white" sallow and
scrawny, loafs about the wayside depots
and chews tobacco leisurely Whisky and
the weed Is all he sees in life for luxuries,
ana Tor necessaries catfish steak fried in
bacon Is good enough for him. His little
cabin along the river is no better than his
colored brothers.; his children run as wild,
but they don't fraternize. The "rousters'
lounge on the decks of passing steamers or
display their spasmodic industry at the
steamboat landings. When they are out of
job they, too, frequent the docks and the
river landings. And the houseboat folk.
oftentimes, float saggingly down the broad
current, occasionally laying up for some
supplies at one of the little towns.
Quaint types and low in the scale Of
catfish, and all of them, with asdelibera-
ton born of the dangerous climate of the
mid Mississippi valley, fish for catfish
There Is no question of sport with them
Ihey are out for meat. And they have
evolved a sort of floating form OF destruc-
ton which brings them the coveted prizes
with the least possible exertion. sThey call
1t block fishing float fishing. and
sometimes just blocking % The necessary
outfit is dozen or more square wooden
blocks which at one time may have been
white and shining, but which dare soon
burned and discolored by sun and rain into
russell dinginess. These blocks are fas-
tened together about foot orr SO apart,
and stout iron staple is driven into each
block to hang the line and hook on The
lines vary in length, some of them hanging
down low in the current, and few being
fastened so as to float little higher. Each
block has Its accompanying hook and
line. When the blocks are all securely tied
together and the lines are fastened to the
staples the fisherman's tackle Is complete.
He Is ready to embark on the muddy river
and proceed in quest of the dark-browed
and rowing catfish. the scavenger of the
deeps. His skif, without which he would
be as a cowboy without his pony, rides at
the dock, squatty boat light and with a
pair of waterworn oars lying in the bottom.
All the anglers movements are character
lied by slothfulness that would make q
turtles exercise seem agile. There Is much
"chawing OF tobacco, sometimes a pull at
bottle, and at other times the lighting Of
cob pipe. but always there Is apparently
the lack OF hurry, the almost oriental Ian
guor of the native. The sun beats down on
his little felt hat and strikes on his wiry
little black mustache. which is hardly more