Harvesting The Sea

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The Deborah-Lee, like most of its sister vessels, is a mid-tech maiden, a hybrid of old and new. It carries elaborate navigation and radar equipment, side-scan sonar, a Si-Tex depth recorder, and an Epsco Chromoscope, an instrument that not only spots the fish, but, by reading the color density, gives clues to the quarry's species as well. Its $4,000 nets, by local netmaker Paul Shuman, feature a unique tapered shape, chafing gear, and cookie-sweeps (rubber donuts that ride the bottom), improving catches and minimizing wear. The nets are reeled in on net drums, another fresh innovation, while other, newer boats have added stern ramps, which make it easier to deploy and retrieve the nets, and split hydraulic winches, which speed up the process.

The current technological thrust has to do with product quality: A few boats are experimenting with on-board boxing of the fish, and one, the Huntress. is scheduled to be cut in half, lengthened, and outfitted with refrigeration equipment so that the crew can freeze its catch at sea. "It may be the forerunner of little factory ships," says Roebuck.

Point Judith has also kept abreast of new fishing techniques, borrowing several from the European fleets. It was the first U.S. fleet to employ the wing trawl, and it pioneered the use of the two-boat midwater trawl. "We were seeing these big schools of fish on our recorders," recalls Roebuck, "and were pretty convinced that they were herring, but we weren't catching very many . . . URI was very instrumental in helping us get the gear, and the knowledge, and the people from Scotland to show us the ropes." The midwater technique, which involves towing a net between two boats -- more accurately controlling the net's depth, and picking off fish quite selectively -- proved incredibly productive. "It wasn't unusual for us to land 500,000 pounds of herring [using three boats] in a night's fishing, says Roebuck, who hopes to adapt the technique to catch butterfish and squid.

Not every new idea finds a home at Point Judith, however. For example, the fleet steered clear of net sounders, which record the number of fish in the net, and was amazed to learn that a Virginia fishing operation had gone so far as to use helicopters to spot schools of bluefish, which it encircled with gill nets (a practice later banned by that state's Marine Resources Commission).

URI, which has provided Point Judith with many of its skippers and operates an active Marine Advisory Service, helps the fleet cull out quality ideas. "They request research on everything from vessel design to safety to marketing," says Duncan Amos, a commercial fisheries specialist with the advisory service, who rates the fleet "on a par" with any he has seen in Europe.

Modern boats and state-of-the-art electronics may make fishing easier and more productive, but they don't ensure profits. "Catching enough pounds isn't difficult," admits Roebuck. "The difficult thing is to get those pounds to be worth enough." Which is where the Point Judith Co-op makes its most valuable contribution.

"Most of the fish sold in the U.S.," explains Cornell, "is off-loaded by the boat and crew, and promptly disappears into a network of dealers, wholesalers, and middlemen, leaving the fisherman with little say about the price he's paid." The co-op, founded in 1948 by fishermen disgusted with their treatment by three local dealers, advises its members on price prospects before they set sail, accepts their entire catch when they land, and sells it aggressively, by telephone, in markets from Maine to the Carolinas. "It puts the mystery of why the fisherman is, or isn't, getting enough money for his catch right in the fisherman's hands," observes Cornell.

The co-op also manufacturers ice; sells fuel; provides unloading and cold storage facilities; does some processing: operates a marine store; and oversees fleet insurance, Blue Cross/Blue Shield, and welfare-fund programs. It is now one of the oldest, largest, and most successful fishing co-ops in the nation, with 82 member boats, 110 employees, and 1982 revenues of $24 million. (Other co-ops have fared decidedly less well. Last year, one in Chatham, Mass., went bankrupt, and several of the newer boats in the local fleet were purchased from another operation that went "belly up.") The Point Judith association exacts an 8 cents per pound fee for boxing and management, but any profits are distributed to members at the end of the year; at least 20% of the dividend is paid in cash, but the remainder is issued as script, a "patronage refund" that enables the co-op to maintain a pool of working capital. The three local fish dealers that prompted the co-op's creation have long since gone out of business. "In order for a co-op to be successful," observes Stasiukiewicz, "the fishermen have to have a real hunger."

But nothing -- not all of the technology, the newest techniques, the most dynamic marketing -- can remove the risk from fishing. A few days before Roebuck set out in search of whiting, the Southern Cross, a boat belonging to a friend, went under. Then, when Roebuck returned to port, he discovered that the price for his catch -- 26,000 pounds of whiting -- had dropped by 10 cents a pound. Fishing he concedes, is a "gamble." . . . "When you're out there," he continues, "and you've been searching and searching for two days, when you've been awake for 48 hours, and your eyes are out on their stems, and, all of a sudden, you find them, you know that you've got them -- that's a pretty big thrill."

And, to hedge against acts of God and the hazards of the market, there are always the superstitions and prayers. Says Roebuck: "I don't leave hatch covers upside down, I don't leave a hat in the bunk, and I never miss the annual blessing of the Point Judith fleet."

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