Evening star., 1939-06-04
Since 1907 Old Jack
Mcbride Has Come
To PhIox to Fish
Fat Jolly Milwaukee Man
Holds Heortstrines
Of Little Village
BY GORDON MacQUARRIE.

MAJ Near the dark place where
the flashing Red River goes under
the bridge to emerge in a moment
on the other side as quick and
as bright as ever, the people of
this community and handful of
Milwaukee fishermen dedicated a
plaque of bronze in honor of a
fisherman.
Just an ordinary, everyday fish,
erman. A fat. jolly fellow with a
ready grin and a hstband full of
flies. A flshermeh who began to
fish up and dawn stream from this
dark place beneath the bridge in
1907, and has come back yearly
since, sometimes to stay for months
at time.
The fisherman is Jack Mcbride
of Milwaukee. 81 years old, once
champion bowler and billiard
player.
Perhaps this thing never before
has been done in the world for
living fisherman. There stands
the plaque, thing of craven bronze
on a stately granite boulder, and
there it will stand for a thousand
years, an everlasting testimonial to
q fisherman.
Done up in Formal Style.
1t was all done up in formal
style. No cornerstone ceremony in
Wisconsin ever carried more dignity
and deep implication. When Jack
Mcbride, the trout fisherman, drove
into this little town of It's people
with Ray Hiscox, the fellow fisher
man, from Milwaukee, there greeted
his eyes, over the main street of
Phlox, wind tossed banner: "Wel-
come to Jack Mcbride" There was
question and tear in the eye
of Fisherman Mcbride as he turned
to Fisherman Hiscox and the whole
thing was told to Fisherman Nc
Bride.
He was told how George Roux of
Milwaukee, and the same Hiscox,
toured back to Milwaukee one
rainy night from the trout waters
of this region, decided a man
would be pleased to have a monu-
ment in his name while he lived.
1t was decided where to put it
of course by the bridge on the
Red River where Mcbride had
started his weary climb up the
hill on many a night since 1907.
1t was decided to ask the people
of PhloX what they thought. And
right there 1t became a civic cele-
bration.
Notables His Angling Mates.
George Guertz of Phlox got busy.
He'd seen Fisherman Mcbride out
there on the Red River when he
was boy. He'd seen Fisherman
Mcbride whip the pleasant waters
with such as the late Emerson
Hough, novelist. He'd seen Mcbride
fish with Bert Lesion Taylor of
the Chicago Tribune when THE
Line" run by B. L. T., was in its
heyday.
Guertz got busy. He found that
Andy Regan had just the rock on
his farm. He got the town of
Norwood, in which Phlox is situ-
ated, to haul the rock to the river
bank near the dark place under
the bridge. The Fin and Feather
Club of Milwaukee, which counts
Fisherman Mcbride among its
members, helped nightly.
Thus the plans grew and grew
and there was fanfare and pomp
on the river bank near the dark
place under the bridge where the
Red River flows.
A lot of speeches were made. The
Nation High School Band played
tunes to quicken the heart. Jim
Coleman of Milwaukee Grated, the
bronze plaque on the granite boul-
der was unveiled. The rain held
off. Father Clement Kern of Phlox,
in whose church Fisherman Nc
Bride goes to mass before he goes
fishing, spoke the invocation in
words that many fishermen feel:
May we ask Thee, the Lord, who
fashioned this earth for our tenn
porary use, to look down kindly
upon our efforts today. We have
come together to do honor to a
friend who knew how to preserve
the gifts of God implanted in tie
earth. May we ask Thee today to
grant us that strength which will
lead us to greater efforts to pre-
serve these gifts"
Old Friends Bring Tears.
Aud 4bay, iel, N6oD,,;ro
came up to the microphone on the
band stand. Fisherman Mcbride,
81 years old, with a tear in the
Irish eye of him and thinking of
many things deep in his heart.
Thinking. as he stood there before
300 friendly folk, of that first day
in 1907 when he'd come along up
here with Bill Kresge-good old
Billy. Thinking of old Bill STAN
ley, fishing pal now dead, once
world champion caster. Thinking
of dear Mrs. Ida Matteson, in the
All Right Hotel, where he'd stayed
all these years, and Mrs. Matteson's
late husband, Jack.
There was Jack Mcbride. on
platform by a trout stream-his
very own trout stream-thinking
about all these things, and more.
About old Dud Dresser-they call
him Mayor of Phlox-and how
tough he is to beat at rummy.
Thinking of the married folks
standing by with babies in their
arms, married folks he'd known as
children-children he'd slipped
many dollar to SOS they'd 60
down the creek and throw in an
old stump or a brush heap or
something to provide cover for
trout. Thinking of the time he
caught a limit of trout on a fly
In a snowstorm.
Jack Makes Best Speech.
Old Jack Mcbride, who had trav-
eled the world over-Vienna. Paris,
Notwithstanding now on the bank
of the river near bronze plaque
with his name on it. He said some
thing, up there on the bunting
draped platform, did Fisherman
Mcbride. He said the usual thing
and every one thought it was grand