THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, August 20, 1995 TAG: 9508170222
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 06 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover Story
SOURCE: BY JENNIFER CHRISTMAN
LENGTH: Long : 238 lines
IN THE OBSIDIAN hours before daybreak when dreamers lie taciturn in slumber, Todd Marsico agitatedly scours his workplace to get a jump on the day ahead.
He'll need it.
During the next 13 hours, the 30-year-old will act as a fisherman, a coach, a maid, a comedian, a physician, a cheerleader, a diplomat and a photographer in his ``office'' on the sea. And, weather permitting, he'll repeat this routine seven days a week.
Welcome to the life of a mate.
As long as there have been recreational fishing charter boats, there have been mates. Assistants to the captain, these men and women shoulder the grunt-work involved in a day's fishing while the captain steers the boat from the anonymous upper haven of the bridge.
Plenty are the responsibilities. Grueling are the hours.
Alarm clocks blare as early as 3 a.m. for mates who work on charters at Oregon Inlet's Fishing Center and Pirate's Cove Marina. By 4:30 a.m., mates are rigging bait, hosing filth from the boat and making last-minute checks and preparations.
From 5:30 a.m. until about 5 p.m., mates talk, work and fish with the families, pausing only to fill a captain's order or make a quick stop in the head. Mates do not return home again until about 6:30 p.m., after scrubbing, icing and stocking the boat for the next day.
The hours also butcher time spent with friends and family from March to November when charters are running all day, every day.
``It's hard, because being a mate is a really social job - you interact with people all day long. But at the same time, it just kills your social life,'' said Rich Samuel, the 27-year-old mate of For Play'n. ``Most mornings you're up at 3:30 a.m., and you have to be ready. You can't be hung over. You just can't stay out and party all night.''
Chuck Seymour, the 28-year-old mate of the Phideaux, says the job is difficult for him - a husband and a father of a 6-month-old girl.
``It's rough,'' says Seymour, a mate of 11 years. ``I don't get to see my wife much. I leave at 4 a.m., and the baby goes to sleep at 8 p.m. So I only get an hour or so with her.
``And then, I'm in bed again by 10 p.m.''
A Labor Of Love
It's a tough life, but for mates like Marsico - a fishing addict since he accompanied his grandfather on Lake Erie salmon excursions as a young boy - the job truly is a labor of love.
``I do this for the fishing,'' says Marsico, the mate on Captain Huck Harriss' Candlewick Lady. ``I've always wanted to fish offshore. I always loved catching fish. It's the only thing I ever wanted to do.''
He's not alone.
Fierce does not begin to describe the competition between women and men vying for coveted mate positions, which have long been viewed as springboards to owning and running their own boats one day.
When he first came to the Outer Banks five years ago, Marsico spent morning upon morning pacing the decks for employment.
``I'd get out there about 3:30 a.m. and stand by the ice cooler just hoping some mate wouldn't show up so I could get his job,'' Marsico says, laughing. ``I didn't wish bad luck on anyone, but I wanted work. And you just don't come down here and get a job fishing. It doesn't happen.''
Dave Graham, the 28-year-old mate of the Country Girl, says fishing was always ``in my blood.''
``My father had boats, and I started fishing when I was very young,'' Graham says. ``Once it's in you, you just can't get it out. So, I found a way to make a living doing it.''
For Samuel, a mate of three years, being a mate was a way out of a job he disliked and a chance to turn a hobby into a career.
``I was a salesman for a plumbing company, and I just didn't like the whole office thing,'' Samuel says. ``As a kid, I was always skipping school to go fishing. So, I decided I'd try this - a job where I wouldn't have to wear dress pants no more - and I could die happy.''
Samuel says he was always entranced by mates.
``I used to ride out on the charters, and it looked like so much fun to be a mate,'' he says. ``The mates are sort of like celebrities. I was awestruck - they were so fluid in the cockpit. I looked up to them. I still do. I still want to copy the best mates and how they work.''
The Price of Love
All agree: A mate will not a millionaire make.
A tiny black sign tucked behind a counter in the Candlewick Lady's saloon reminds patrons in modest white letters: ``MATE WORKS FOR TIPS 12% Plus. Thank You.''
Chartering the Candlewick Lady costs $825 per day. Marsico estimates he receives an average of $100 - one dollar more than 12 percent - in tips each day, supplemented by the $75 flat amount Harriss pays him for a full day's work.
A banner fishing afternoon often translates to more generous ducats from happy passengers. If all goes smoothly, Marsico can pocket a comfortable $1,300 per week.
But working as a mate has its financial drawbacks.
Not only are mates self-employed contractors who must spring for all their insurance and taxes, some days they don't even get paid. Rainy, rough days that keep the charters from venturing out - like most days of the last two weeks - mean no money. And not all passengers tip.
``Sometimes the money is good and sometimes it's nonexistent,'' Marsico says. ``You never know what the next day is going to be.''
A Day in the Life
It's a rainy, rough Thursday. The mighty ocean swells appear as slate gray, snow-capped mountains - remnants of storms and fronts that whipped the sea during the four preceding days.
But the show must go on for Marsico. And for the hefty sum the family shelled out to charter the boat, it had better be a good show.
After cleansing the boat's bridge of a seasick reporter's vomit about 20 minutes into the voyage, Marsico banters with members of the two Virginia families. For about three hours, he listens to their tales and enraptures them with details of his Mexican fishing expeditions.
``We are gonna catch some marlin today,'' Marsico says, pumping up the family.
Setting out the ballyhoo baits and plastic squid teasers he meticulously rigged the evening before, Marsico chats without missing a beat to the passengers while keeping an eye out on the ocean.
``There's one,'' he says, bolting from his makeshift seat of a bait cooler. Everyone clamors from their lounging place in the saloon to the front of the cockpit to grab a peek of a white marlin, jumping and skipping across the water's surface. Marsico thrusts a rod into the hands of one of the daughters and, with his hands on hers, helps her reel the wrestling fish closer to the boat.
``You can do it. Keep going,'' Marsico encourages.
Cheers abound after the struggle is won and the fish is released. An outside observer would say Marsico caught the fish almost solely, but the passengers high-five and hug the daughter. Smiling faces chug celebratory ice-packed Budweisers while Marsico quietly fidgets with the bait in another nook of the boat.
``The people are the anglers,'' Marsico says. ``Once it's on the hook, it's their own deal but some of these people really are new and don't know what they are doing - there is no way possible you can let them run the show.''
Three slow hours crawl by without fish.
Finally, Marsico spots a double-header - two more white marlins.
The story is the same - scurrying about while tugging at the lines and leaders, Marsico helps the passengers catch the fish. Several waves slap and drench him in the process, but he simply smiles and trades his soaked navy windbreaker for an orange slicker.
``This place is rocking!'' Marsico exclaims, shaking droplets from his sun-lightened brown hair.
The only congratulations Marsico hears comes from the mouth of one of the fathers on board.
``You really picked up the action there - I was impressed,'' the man says.
Marsico tries everything from casting new bait to tying new teasers, but his attempts fail. Even after he bargains with the captain for a few more minutes, no more fish appear. But Marsico never stops talking and making feel people at ease.
The family leaves smiling. Marsico snaps their picture, and even poses for one with the two daughters.
``These are the people you really enjoy - they only caught three fish, and they were just as happy as could be,'' Marsico says. ``They just love fishing.''
Crowd Control
In most cases, the parties are pleasant, which makes meeting and mingling an advantage.
``I like the people,'' Samuel says. ``This job is a fantastic way to meet people from everywhere. People from all walks of life. It can be great.''
Seymour, a mate during the summer and commercial fishing captain during the off-season, agreed.
``I like being a mate better because you get to relate to the people more,'' Seymour says. ``It's rewarding because you'll see some people again and again. You have a bond with them. You have to like people to do this job. You have to be very outgoing and willing to talk to all kinds of people.
``The goal is to show people a good time.''
But some don't have a good time - especially if the fish refuse to bite. Passengers often take their frustrations from not catching fish out on the mate.
``It's really funny,'' Seymour says. ``It's like it's the mate's fault when everything goes wrong. If the fish are not biting, it's the mate's fault. Even when fishing is great, the mate is forgotten and the captain gets the credit.''
Samuel says one party actually consoled him for their mediocre catch one afternoon.
``The average catch was about 10 tuna and 10 dolphin,'' Samuel says. ``They brought a little more than that, and they said, `Don't worry, we've had worse days,' like I was to blame. These people come down here and they've heard so many stories that they expect to have stellar catches.
``Sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn't. Either way, it's not the mate's fault.''
Marsico says he gets frustrated with passengers who only want to fish for the food value.
``Some people just aren't happy unless they bring a whole bunch of meat back home,'' Marsico says. ``And it's sad - they disregard the fun of it. I enjoy working with people who just like going out for the experience.''
And making people happy does not stop with the passengers - mates must maintain a good working chemistry with their captains.
Marsico says captains and mates generally get along.
``I think most captains appreciate the jobs mates do,'' Marsico says. ``There are some people with egos, but I've been really lucky. It has to be a team effort if it is going to work.''
From the boat's bridge, Captain Harriss chimes in, ``Damn right!''
Battle Scars and Nausea
Each mate is a museum of random bumps and cuts and a library of fantastic nonfiction stories.
``You get a lot of little bruises on your body, and you never know where they came from,'' Marsico says after slipping on the water-soaked floor of the cockpit.
Marsico boasts that he inadvertently pierced his left nipple with a hook while wrestling with a dolphin.
Working as a mate can also be dangerous.
During a Hatteras Village fishing tournament last June, mate Chris Bowie died while helping a contestant pull a 75-pound blue marlin to the boat. The marlin yanked Bowie - with the wire leader attached to the hook wrapped around his wrist - out of the boat and to the bottom of the ocean.
``The Challenge''
When asked about the best aspect of their job, each mate's response is the same: ``The challenge.''
``For me, it's . . . the adventure and a thousand-pound blue one,'' says Samuel, pointing to a blue marlin tattoo on his left ankle. ``Every time I see a marlin, it pumps me up. Every single time. That's what gets your knee caps jumping. Or to see a marlin at the side of the boat change color to a bright blue when it's aggressive.
``Man, that just gets me going.''
Graham says he relishes ``the challenge of you against nature.''
And to Marsico, the challenge means conquering the unknown.
``Sure, every day I'd love to catch a bunch of blue marlin. And each day I get up and I have no idea what awaits me - the fish, the weather, the people,'' Marsico says. ``Each day is totally different, and I don't know what is going to be out there.'' ILLUSTRATION: Staff photo by DREW C. WILSON
[color cover photo - no cutline info or photo credit]
[man in an orange raincoat holding a fishing rod.]
Mate Todd Marsico gathers rigging while Capt. Huck Harris pilots the
Candlewick Lady toward the Gulf Stream.
As a weary passenger heaves over the side, mate Todd Marsico waits
to assist.
Marsico tends the many lines cast in the hopes of catching a big
fish in the Gulf Stream.
As Capt. Huck Harris sleeps on the return trip, Marsico takes the
helm to bring the boat home again.
by CNB