More of The Way it Was

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(Click to enlarge. Camp One now located on this site.)

Well, ‘ol man winter is still around so, at a bit of urging, I’ll go ahead with another tale or two of how it was some 50 years ago. This is “The Old Log Inn.” It was owned by Earl and Elsie Tomek. Their son, Scott, still lives within the confines of The Flowage. Elsie was a great cook and delicious food was served, including the best French fries this side of the Mississippi River. (Earl made Elsie peel fresh potatoes for each daily order of fries. Delicious!)

One of the pastimes was that of playing a game of poker pool. Earl would also join-in. Each guy got five cards, and each gal got three. The 14 and 15 ball were “free.” Each card was equivalent to the number on the ball. (Jack, Queen and King were 11, 12, & 13.) When all five balls that represented the five cards in your hand got sunk, you were home free - - whether YOU sunk them, or somebody else did so. The last person with a card in their hand bought the round of beer. Linenkugel was most often the purchased brand. (Earl didn’t have a liquor license. However, it was rumored that he kept a bottle of booze under the bar for well-known customers. That, of course, cannot be verified.)

Earl was a musky guide. I spent quite a number of days fishing with Earl. The Flowage, Moose Lake, Butternut Lake and English Lake were usual hunting grounds. It was always a pleasure to spend the day with Earl. A shore lunch was always in the offing. It gave Earl the chance to fill his pipe and relate a tale or two.

Al Kaiser was the only person who lived on Moose Lake. He lived there with his wife and young school-age daughter. (Nobody lives on the lake anymore.) We’d bring my own 9.5 Evinrude and rent a boat from Al for a few bucks. One day, my brother and I were fishing with Earl. My brother let his rod and reel slip out of his hand, and down it went. (Actually owned by me!) Both of us stripped down to our underwear and went over the side simultaneously. We were going to dive down and retrieve the gear.

When we hit the water, we couldn’t breathe! The temperature of Moose Lake must have been all of 32-1/2 degrees Fahrenheit! We scrambled back into the boat post haste.

We went back to Al Kaiser’s place. Earl borrowed a rake. He then attached it to the bottom of a long cane pole using some duct tape. He then proceeded back across Moose Lake. He stopped at a certain spot and said, “This looks like the place.”

I thought the odds of that were about ten-million to one. Earl swept the bottom with one pass of the rake.

Nothing.

Then, he made a second sweep.

Clunk.

He pulled up my rod and reel!

Boy, he must have had a built-in GPS unit in his brain! I don’t know how he could differentiate that part of the lake from any other.

As usual, we had to make a stop at a couple of beer joints on the way back to The Old Log Inn so he could pay a “courtesy call” on some of his Flowage friends. Elsie was always a tad-bit peeved at Earl for leaving her to tend to things until he returned. But, all was always forgiven in a short period of time. They were a great couple.

Earl had served in the Navy during WW-II. He had also been a Chicago firefighter. He rebelled against the political machine that ran Chicago and moved his family up to the woods and away from big-city life. He stayed there for the rest of his life. It was great to be able to call him a friend.

50 years ago, there was no such thing as “catch and release.” Legal muskies were proudly brought ashore for admiring onlookers to ogle. Musky heads were nailed to and adorned the various pine trees around the Flowage. (None are seen anymore.) I actually had an occasion to toss a legal-sized musky toward a boat in which my buddies were fishing one day. This was on Moose Lake. I teasingly hollered over, “Hey, see if you guys can catch THIS one!”

That story actually got circulated around. On several occasions I heard Al Kaiser talking to the other guy in his boat as they motored by. You know how it is, sound certainly does travel across the water.

“See that guy over there?” he would say. “He calls himself ‘Musky Mauler.’ He once threw back a 36-inch musky!” (That was back when the legal size limit was 30”) Next time I heard him say that it was a “38-inch” musky. By the end of that summer, the supposed size of my toss-back had grown to a “44-inch musky!”

Of course, I did nothing to try to dissuade Al Kaiser from embellishing the truth. My reputation as a mauler of muskies grew exponentially with each telling. I was naturally admired accordingly by one and all. (Truth be known, it was actually a 31” musky.)

Musky Mauler

Musky Mauler, If you haven't already, you should write a book. It would be a shame to let stories like yours be lost to the winds of time. As always when I read your tales it brings me back to some of my own memories of places and times that seem like a million miles away but can still bring a smile to my face like they happened yesterday. Thank You, Phil

I really enjoy reading these MM. And HP is right, you really should consider writing a book about the Mercer area. It has a frontier history and I have always enjoyed hearing about the local history with and tales about its local legends.
Thanks for sharing!
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