THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, July 6, 1996 TAG: 9607060337
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY MIKE KNEPLER, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: NORFOLK LENGTH: 140 lines
From the swagger in their talk, you might have thought the four boys were the world's greatest fishermen.
En route to their latest angling adventure, the boys boasted about their last trips - about the croaker, and spot and flounder and bass.
And that clam. The one Robert Finklea tangled up in his line along with some seaweed.
And the jellyfish he had somehow snagged.
The boys laughed.
None of them had fished more than once or twice in their young lives. But they already had fish stories to swap.
That was reward enough for A.C. Russell, a retired longshoreman who three years ago decided to share his love for the water with city kids as a way to keep them from trouble.
Russell, 70, has been fishing for about 50 years. One day, he looked around and decided that not enough kids knew how to fish.
``The youngsters didn't have no place to go, nothing to do,'' he recalled. ``And I said, `Well, I got a boat. I got spare time.' So I just decided I would just go carry them fishing.''
A block-watch captain in his Coronado-Inglenook neighborhood, Russell said getting kids hooked on fishing is another form of crime prevention.
``Besides,'' he said, ``it's a very exciting thing to do, to watch how they try to learn.''
The four boys sat in the back of Russell's white Bronco as it pulled out of the parking lot of First Baptist Church of Lamberts Point. His 23-foot Bayliner Trophy followed in tow.
Russell is a deacon and lifelong member of the church. Its bulletin carries announcements of the fishing trips he organizes a few times each summer. Parents must sign consent forms.
Sometimes, no one shows up. Russell doesn't blame the youngsters. It's up to their parents to encourage and remind them, he said.
Wednesday's trip drew Joseph Alston, 14, Robert Finklea, 10, Eric Mason, 9, and Primas ``Buddy'' Paige, 12, the son of First Baptist's pastor, the Rev. Anthony Paige.
``I think it's wonderful that he's teaching the children to do this. He doesn't have to do this,'' said the Rev. Paige, as he stood in the parking lot. ``That's the only way we're going to win our kids. Everybody's going to have to do a little something. This is just a little something, but it's important.
``They know more about automobiles than they know about a simple thing like baiting a hook. They know more about hip-hop music and drugs and some other things than they know about the simple things in life.
``Fishing is one of the most noble recreations a man or woman can be involved in. . . . It's exposure to decency.''
Russell usually takes boys fishing on the Willoughby Bay side of Hampton Roads and up the James River to the Monitor-Merrimac Memorial Bridge Tunnel. It's calmer than the larger Chesapeake Bay, where he goes when he's fishing with other men.
He launched his boat at Willoughby Bay Marina. Then he powered up the mouth of the James River, churning V-shaped waves of white foam in his wake. His voice, emanating from a barrel chest, carried over the roar of the boat's engine.
Russell stopped in a lane of water between the islands of the bridge-tunnel. It was close enough to Buoy 12 to hear its clanging bell.
He turned to the youngsters, who were hunkered on the floor. They had already come to life with fishing banter.
``You're a beginner!'' Buddy Paige chided Eric, the youngest.
Robert Finkea came to Eric's defense: ``Everybody was a beginner, once.''
``Not me,'' Buddy replied, as he picked up a knife to start cutting the squid and bloodworm bait.
``Uh, uh,'' Russell intervened. ``I'll cut the bait.''
Russell worked with Eric, handing him a rod and reel with a baited hook.
``You know how to use it?'' Russell asked.
Eric nodded and jabbed the pole toward the water.
The line didn't release.
``Why you tell me you know how to use it if you don't know how to use it?'' Russell asked. He then showed Eric how to release the line and said, ``Now, let's catch some fish!''
A moment or two later Eric reeled in the line: ``The fish ate my bait!''
Russell feigned an admonition: ``You got to stay awake while fishing.''
They rebaited the hook and sent it overboard again.
Only seconds later, Russell issued another instruction: ``Wind the fish in.''
Russell helped tuck the butt of the rod under Eric's right armpit. The rod waved back and forth as the boy cranked unevenly until a silvery croaker broke the surface.
``Hold it. Hold it,'' Russell said. ``I'll take it from here.''
But Russell was a split second late. Eric swung the pole over the boat and the dangling fish slapped Joseph in the face.
The tip of the rod snapped. Russell sighed and got him another rod.
He removed the fish from the hook and told Eric to open his ice chest. The boy looked uncertain as the fish flopped a few times. He poked a finger at it before Russell closed the lid.
Meanwhile, Russell's cousin, Herman Charity, 75, a retired pipe fitter for Norfolk Naval Air Station, tended to the three older boys: Joseph, Robert and Buddy.
It was the first time that Charity, who lives in Chesapeake, had gone on a trip to help out. He, too, believes fishing is a hobby that will keep kids out of trouble.
For 2 1/2 hours, the lessons continued.
``Bounce the line to make sure you're at the bottom,'' Russell reminded his pupils.
The boys tried to imitate Russell's easy motion of dipping and raising the rod. Their movements were exaggerated.
But each youngster landed a few fish.
Robert, with seven, caught the most. With each one, his eyes grew wide. Then a look of contemplation crossed his face.
Asked what he was thinking, Robert replied: ``More fish.''
Why?
``I'm going to eat 'em.''
Throughout the day Russell offered advice - peppered with some stern looks at the boys to make sure he had their attention.
Some of his wisdom:
``The fish don't measure the bait. The fish, they just come.''
And: ``I'll tell you young men, these fish will taste better with your own reels. . . . Next year, save up your money and buy your own rod and reel. Then you won't have to put up with me.''
By 4 p.m., Russell and Charity docked the boat ahead of a storm. Half an hour later they returned to First Baptist Church of Lamberts Point.
The boys said they would like to try again.
``It could be fun, if you know what you're doing,'' Eric said. He picked up his small ice cooler, which contained his four croaker, and started walking home. The other youngsters, too, went on their way.
Russell and Charity stayed a moment to reminisce about how they learned to fish from older relatives and family friends. They used to go out on heavy wooden rowboats, which they rented for half a dollar a day.
``Now, you can't even buy bait for 50 cents,'' Russell said. ILLUSTRATION: VICKI CRONIS color photos, The Virginian-Pilot
Primas ``Buddy'' Paige, 12, left, and Joseph Alston, 14, watch as
their mentor, A.C. Russell, brings in a croaker. The boys' lines
were tangled, and they were waiting to see whose hook had snagged
the fish.
``The youngsters didn't have no place to go, nothing to do. And I
said, `Well, I got a boat. I got spare time.' So I just decided I
would just go carry them fishing.''- A.C. Russell
Photo by VICKI CRONIS, The Virginian-Pilot
A.C. Russell shows two of his young companions the proper way to
cast a line. Russell, who has fished for about 50 years, says
getting kids hooked on fishing is a form of crime prevention. by CNB