  Alva "Bud" Mitchell tells much of his story in verse he composed himself. He is one of six men I met while they were hauling, splitting, boning, salting, and drying fish at the Jackson Brothers' processing plant at Wilson's Beach. The other men are Bernham "Bun" Lank, Waldo Mathews, Morris Fletcher, Neal Langmaid, and Ronald Brown. All but one of them are in their early seventies to mid-eighties. They say most younger men and boys are uninterested in doing their work. "The way it's going around here now, probably by next year, two or three of us will go to sleep and never wake up," and, they believe, Jackson Brothers won't be able to find replacements for them. The older men are proud of their work and feel they do a better job than the youngsters who occasionally work with them and poke fun at them.
Bud Mitchell Splits Fish at the Jackson Brother's
Processing Plant in Wilson's Beach
When asked if any of them had left Campobello for long, Bud Mitchell replied, "Well... I went up to Calais [Maine] one time. Oh, it was good while it lasted. I went in the morning and was home by supper. Didn't want the sun to set on me in a foreign land."
Many Campobello men travel to other places while fishing, sometimes hundreds of miles from their island. Those who still live on the island seem perfectly content to stay there. Perhaps they know something we don't.
"lt's just like the old feller. He lived over there and he said, 'Oh, I get up in the morning and I start a hummin' and I think, "Well, where did you hear that before?" And I say, "Well, I never heard it before, nor you never heard it before, nor nobody else never heard it before, cause I'm a makin' it up just as I go along. The purtiest music that you ever heard or I ever heard, or anybody else ever heard."
"Well, 'The Old Hake Song' went:
Let me tell you a tale,
A good one I'll make,
Of a job that I had,
A filletin' hake.
I was hangin' round town,
Not earnin' a dime,
Bein' out of a job,
Spendin' my time,
When a big guy walks up,
And he said, 'I suppose
You're a plain fisherman,
By the smell of your clothes.'
So I says, 'Yes, you're right,
There's none I ain't caught.
If it's fish that you're talkin',
I'm here on the spot.
So, he gets all excited,
And I asks what he pays
If I fillet his hake
For a couple of days.
When he offered me twenty,
Said I, 'That is plenty,
Cause the summer's gone by
And I ain't earned a penny.'
So he said, 'All right, Bud,
I'll give you a chance,'
On our feet then we jumped,
And walked to his plant.
For an hour we stayed,
And we talked everything,
And he said, 'Now can any
Of you fellers sing?'
So, I opened my mouth
With the rest of the boys,
And they said, 'Shut it up.
It's a terrible noise.'
I said, 'All right, Rich,
That voice is my own,
And it sounds a lot better
Than your baritone.'
So, we bid him good night
At a quarter t'eleven,
And he told me to show up
Next morning at seven.
I went in the plant
And gazed all around,
And there in the corner
Lay five thousand pound.
Oh, those slimy old hake.
Oh, those slimy old hake.
They're the slimiest fishes
That ever did swam.
You can talk about eels,
And I don't give a damn,
But, oh, those slimy old hake.
So, he put Myron Dald
On the table to trim.
And Dewey was there,
But I won't mention him.
'Cause you ask all the boys,
And here's what they'll say,
'Dewey ain't got no job,
He's just gettin' his pay.'
Well, Thad Cooke said where he was
There was too much dirt.
He wanted a job
To wear a white shirt.
So, one noon he left,
And he never come back.
He said he got tired
Of wearing a sack.
So, he baited his trawl
And went on the deep haul,
And he went with B. Rice,
A draggin' up coal.
Now every night
He gets down on his knees,
And prays for his job,
Back to the Brine Freeze.
Newt, he wore a big smile
All the time he was hired,
But, oh, the black looks
The day he got fired.
And he told all the boys,
The next time I see Rich,
I'm gonna pound the head off
That son of a bitch.
Pearl Syme; couple of days
After Newt got his time,
We looked down the steps,
And down 'em come Syme.
He's all right makin' boxes.
Or sharpenin' knives,
But you have to look twice
To make sure he's alive.
Oh, we stand there all day,
And we work just like hounds,
And Murray comes down,
And he makes the hake sounds.
When he gets them hung out,
It's true I will swear,
You have to go to the outhouse
For a breath of fresh air.
And Terry said, 'If you boys
Will get out of the way,
I'll soon start up
That old Chevrolet.
'It isn't my fault
If the engine don't go,
'Cause there is nothin' about one,
That I do not know.'
He said, 'She'll go,
You need have no fear,
'Cause I'm the guy
That fixed Hoke's backin' gear.'
We worked all that week
Until Saturday,
And of course all the boys
Were expectin' their pay.
When Bud, he came out,
And he said, very soon,
'The boss will not be here
Until Monday noon.
So all of our hopes
Fell flat to the ground,
And poor Puffy said,
'That's a dismal sound.
'Here I worked all the week,
And it's just the beginner,
Now I gotta have fillets
For my Sunday dinner.'
Calvin Malloch Holds a Tangled Hand Line in the Stern
of His Father's Fishing Boat on a Chilly October Morning
"That's the end of that one. They used to call it, 'The Hake Song, 'when I used to sing it. They said, "Aw, sing us "The Hake Song." 'I used to chord it on the piano. People used to laugh at it. I don't know whether they thought it was funny or because I was foolish.
"I used to recite quite a lot 'til one time I was at the factory with one of the fellers I mentioned in that, they called Puffy. He said, 'Used to go lobster fishin' way up north,' and he's talkin' about this fellow. He said, 'Oh, he wasn't a proper damn fool, but he'd recite for you.' So, I thought t'was about time I was quittin' after that.
"I had a chance one time... I was gettin' twenty cents an hour and the boss over there told me, 'You write that down for me and I'll give you an hour's pay.' Now, just think, I'd a been in the money today if I'd a went in the publishing business. Twenty cents!
"There was another feller down here one time. He had a boat down here. She smashed up on the beach. I made up a few verses. Used to have fun with Dewey. I used to sing that, too:
Dewey woke up at dawn
And hauled his clothes on,
Just as soon as he jumped from his bed.
When he heard the wind screech,
He made for the beach,
'But I fear it's too late now,' he said.
As he gazed off afar,
He could still see her spar,
And he thought that she was there secure.
But when he got there,
He found in despair,
She was scattered all over the shore.
Well the sea struck the craft,
And it broke her off aft,
And with each one that struck her she'd moan.
He said, 'She's no good
Now except for wood.
With me own nag I'll drag her up home.'
So he shifted her length
Across the beach,
And battered up over the rocks.
It ain't the old craft,
It's the valuable shaft,
And the fans and the good stuffin' box.
But when the tide had gone down,
And the beach was aground,
With pieces of old, soggy plank,
He hollered, 'Hey fellers,'
I found her propellers,
Way down in the sand where they sank.'
Then Dewey he hollered,
'We have salvaged her well,'
Expressin' his very best thanks.
And what's drifted up by
Will not miss the eye
Of Peter, Myron, or Banks.
Then Dewey he hollers
He coulda got fifty dollars,
For the boat on the beach where she lay.
But the No'theaster she come
And put her on the bum.
She ain't worth a nickel today."
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