SEBASTIAN — As Sebastian continues its efforts to respect, retain and promote its historic character and enhance its “fishing village” ambiance, the fishing industry, although a far cry from its halcyon days, remains a part of the city’s business community, as second- and third-generation fishermen seek a livelihood from the waters of the lagoon and the sea.
How are the local commercial fishermen faring as the world changes around them?
At Crab E Bill’s fish market and eatery on Indian River Drive, General Manager Carmine Leonetti wears a heavy black apron and carries a sturdy knife. Most every day, Leonetti receives fish from any of a number of local fisherman. Leonetti has been a “cutter” for Crab E Bill, aka William Tiedge, since he was 17, when Tiedge operated Indian River Seafood on Old Dixie.
Crab E Bill’s has leased a portion of the City’s developing Working Water Front project – the refurbished structure that was for years a popular restaurant and bar called Hurricane Harbor. The front of the building now houses the seafood market, which very much expresses the old fishing village theme. Customers are typically area folks who come in “to get some fresh fish for dinner.” The small self-service eatery, on the lagoon side of the building, serves the locally fresh-caught fish, and is enjoyed by locals and visitors alike. Leonetti and the Crab E Bill’s crew are excited about the WWF project, and have already experienced the growing popularity of the entire Indian River Drive business district.
Leonetti explains that most all of the fish he receives daily are caught offshore, usually anywhere from 8 to 15 miles out. Recent catches have included a lot of local sea bass and snapper. Snapper fishing has been closed for much of the past few years as their numbers have dwindled, but now the snapper have begun to return in healthy numbers, says Leonetti. “Our guy went out yesterday – he says for the past few days he’s been seeing a lot of snapper.”
Leonetti pads back to the big walk-in freezer, where ice-filled boxes of very fresh fish – brought in that morning – are neatly lined up. His black Crocs insulate his feet from the thin layer of icy water on the freezer floor. He lifts a picture-perfect snapper, “Oh, about 20 pounds,” he estimates.
Surprisingly, another popular fish is the Lionfish, Leonetti says. “They’re delicious. Only the spines are poisonous and we take those off.” Upfront, he points to a large glass case filled with the round, gape-mouth fish. “The problem with this invasive species is that they have no natural predators and they are little eating machines. They eat the small fish, they eat the babies, they wreak havoc on the ecosystem, and they multiply fast.”
The good news is, they’re an edible enemy. There is even a Lionfish cookbook.
“I think we’re the only eatery in the area that features Lionfish on our menu,” he says, adding that it’s a win-win situation: the customers enjoy the fish, and removing the ravenous eating machines from the local waters helps protect the native fish population.
The fishermen who supply Leonetti are, he says, mostly one-man operations, guys who keep their boats at home and go out early in the morning. These fishermen do not use fishing rods and reels. They are SCUBA divers who use spear guns. This method allows the fishermen to specifically target a single fish rather than spending precious time accidently catching fish they don’t want (bycatch) or fish that are under-sized.
Christian Mathisen is one of the SCUBA fishermen. He is also a K-9 handler with the Indian River County Sheriff’s Department. Mathisen grew up in Miami, did a lot of diving in the Keys and has been commercial spear fishing for about 18 years. On a typical day, he’ll head maybe 18-30 miles out, near the reef habitats, and do a drift dive. The location is chosen, he says, mindful of the fish populations. “I basically look at where I hit recently (and go to a different location), to give the reef a chance to repopulate.”
Mathisen is permitted for all Snapper and Grouper, as well as Cobia, Lionfish. The required permit cost him a daunting $30,000 in 2010 and today, he says, it’s probably $50,000-$55,000.
Up at the other end of Indian River Drive stands an old fish house that has supported generations of a pioneer fishing family – the Judahs. Family patriarch Coolidge Judah died at 90 this past March, and his children and grandchildren carry on the family business.
On this hot blue afternoon, the screen door gives a satisfying clunk as it swings shut. A bit of a breeze makes its way through the single room, carrying smells of fish and saltwater. There is a nice pile of mullet in the sturdy metal scale suspended from a beam. “Papa Coolidge’s” sons Kevin and Bobby and grandson Chad Colvin have been fishermen literally all their lives. Today they are weighing, filleting and icing the catch and talking about – fishing.
“It’s still a local market. It’s all fresh,” says Bobby, his red hair curling a bit wildly out from beneath his red ball cap. A lot of mullet are coming in at the moment, he says. There are Mackerel and Sea Trout as well, May through September. The Mullet are especially popular with churches and businesses for fish fries, and they usually go out as fast as they come in. Chad adds that the annual, very popular Grant seafood festival is always a very good customer.
“People coming to the Seafood Festival from Miami, Lake Wales, all over, will stop here to buy fresh fish to take home,” says Bobby. “Spots, we call ‘em butterfish, because they’re so good in the pan, and they’re sort of butter colored; sand perch are delicious, too, very popular. But the mullet – they go out fast. “
Most of the fish that come through Judah’s fishhouse are from the lagoon. Bobby says things got really bad for a while because of all the fertilizer-and pesticide-laden run off flowing from the C-54 Canal into the Sebastian River, with a heavy rain, then into the Lagoon. “They spray the ditches, and you get those chinch bugs and dollarweed,” he just shook his head. That pretty much “wiped out the grass flats,” eliminating fish habitat and really messing up the food chain. “It was a hard time. Now,” he says, “there’re good signs of it coming back.”
“A good day used to bring in 100-200 pounds of fish,” says Chad. “Now a good day is more like 40-50.” Then he asks, “Did you know that a mullet is a vegetarian and has a gizzard, like a chicken?” He fetches one from Bobby, whose filleting mullet at lightning speed, brings it over, holds it up like a large pink diamond, “See? They’re good, too.”
A fisherman enters from the dock, barefoot, with a full white beard and mustache and sharp brown eyes. He’s lugging a bucket full of mullet. Donny Allen has been fishing for the Judahs since he was 15, says Kevin. “His wife, too.” Kevin grins broadly. “Sissy can outfish any of the guys. Donny’ll come in with 15 pounds, she’ll bring in 30. One time he brought in 71 pounds and knew he’d got her. But she came in with 80.” Donny sets the bucket down and begins filling out the required form.
Every catch that comes in, says Kevin, has to be recorded, as to weight and kind of fish. Each kind of fish has its own number for recording purposes.
Most of the fish brought to Judah’s are caught in the river, with hook and line, often with a splatter pole, especially for sea trout: Named for the splattering noise the cork makes to attract the trout, it is simply a long cane pole and heavy line about 3/4 the length of the pole, with sinker, leader with hook and live bait, swivel and cork. It takes a bit of technique but it is effective. In the winter months, said Kevin, they’ll see spots, croakers, whitey and pompano.
The men and women for whom fishing the lagoon and the ocean is a way of life passed down through the generations continue to adjust to the changing times and the changing tides. Often, of necessity, they find they must supplement their income with other jobs, as Chad Colvin does. But the river and the lifestyle have a strong, visceral pull. For these people, the working waterfront has been a fact of life for a very long time.
