THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, December 17, 1995 TAG: 9512170147
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A15 EDITION: FINAL
SERIES: SPECIAL REPORT
DIVIDING THE WATERS
The crisis facing the Chesapeake Bay is a microcosm of the larger fate
that may await the Atlantic Ocean off the coasts of Virginia and North
Carolina. As U.S. commercial fishing nears the turn of the century,
the industry must resolve its problems or, like the fabled continent
of Atlantis, become a lost empire of the sea. Today, The
Virginian-Pilot begins a four-day report on the choices ahead.
SOURCE: By LANE DeGREGORY, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: WANCHESE, N.C. LENGTH: Medium: 98 lines
In the long, low-ceilinged upstairs room of his family's waterfront fish house, Billy Carl Tillett consults the scribbled-on squares of his monthly desk calendar and frowns into the phone.
``I thought that meeting was last night,'' Tillett tells the caller, obviously annoyed. ``But OK, OK. If it's that important for the rockfish, I'll be there at 7. I don't see why we bother with all this, though. Seems our fate already has been decided.''
Tillett, 44, a third generation member of a commercial fishing family, hasn't been to sea in six years. But this month he's been to three fish meetings.
Tillett began fishing in the first grade, working as a mate on his father's charter boat in the summers and shoveling fish off commercial trawlers during the winters. When Tillett was in high school, the principal would call boys out of class to help pack huge hauls of trout on ice in the Wanchese fish processing plants. Now, the fisherman and his friends call each other off the water to attend state management meetings.
After running his own commercial fishing boat from 1969 until 1989, Tillet dropped anchor in an attempt to help save his heritage.
``I decided I was gonna come ashore and see what I could do from here,'' Tillett says from a stained sofa in the drafty, paneled alcove above the open-air packing house. ``Besides, there were all these new regulations forcing us to work a certain way. . . . Someone had to keep up with all the licenses and rules if we wanted anyone to remain on the water.''
When Tillett's father opened Moon Tillett Fish Co. Inc. 30 years ago on the wooden wharves of Wanchese, fishermen gathered at the village docks before dawn to discuss currents, predict the weather and share secrets about where certain species might school. Watermen worked on the ocean six days a week, casting nets from hand-hewn boats and carrying baskets filled with croaker, flounder and bluefish.
Today, some commercial fishermen spend a lot more time on shore. Most of the families who started shipping Outer Banks seafood four generations ago still run the local warehouses. But the way they work - and the future they're fishing for - has changed dramatically in the last 25 years.
Federal laws now tell watermen when, where and how they can fish. Seasons, and coastal and state quotas control what species they can catch, how much they can net each trip, even when they can sell their hauls. Biologists dictate how big the fish must be. Elected officials mandate what type of gear and vessels are acceptable. Regulations, net bans and political pressures now are the talk of this fishing town.
Rules change overnight - sometimes while crews are still at sea.
Instead of bringing their boys up to be watermen, fishermen are urging their sons to stay out of the sinking industry. Those who have stayed say they're fighting harder each day just to maintain.
``We're under such restrictions that if the stock is still out there, you can't even catch enough to show it's healthy,'' says Tillett, who estimates that he has at least $15,000 invested in nets that have been outlawed.
``If I could go out today and fish like I did in the '70s - with virtually no rules or quotas or seasons - I could fill my boats now, just like I did then.''
Like many contemporary commercial fishermen, Tillett does not believe biological surveys and on-going federal studies that say there are fewer fish in the sea. He says fish swim in cycles, with populations of certain species growing one year, waning the next. He blames pollution as the primary reason for dwindling catches along the mid-Atlantic coast.
Either way - government or pollution - Tillett sees the fisherman as caught in the middle.
If, for example, 10,000 fewer pounds of flounder come across North Carolina's docks this year than last, fisheries regulators see only that statistic. They may not take into account that 10 fewer boats were fishing, that the season was cut off two months earlier, or that the size limit of keepable fish increased by 2 inches.
``The more species they keep us from catching, the more pressure is put on other fish,'' Tillett says. ``We're trying to survive. But we no longer can spread out and be versatile. We're all fishing for the same species now, because of the rules. We're on top of each other, cutting each others' throats. Something's gotta give soon.'' MEMO: ABOUT THIS SERIES: This series was reported over six months by seven
Virginian-Pilot reporters and photographers. Staff writers Lane
DeGregory, Scott Harper, Christopher Dinsmore, Stephanie Stoughton and
Bob Hutchinson traveled through Virginia and North Carolina and to
Maine, Massachusetts, New York, and Costa Rica. They were accompanied by
photographers Bill Tiernan and Drew Wilson. Staff designer Tracy Porter
produced the layouts. Photo editor Alex Burrows edited the photography
report. Staff artist Bob Voros produced the graphics. The stories were
edited by Joe Coccaro and Edward Power.
by CNB