Anglers' HQ

PLUM ISLAND -- Famous last words of a fisherman, any fisherman, hereabouts: "We'll be back for pictures on the wall."

At Surfland Bait and Tackle, Plum Island's angling headquarters, black-and-white photos of fishermen and their magnificent catches dating to the early 1960s line a beam over the crowded showroom.

On a recent sunny Saturday, though, the bulletin board devoted to the current season featured one snapshot: It depicted John Noonan of Amesbury and his 16-pound striped bass, which was weighed on the hanging scale by the front door early that day.

Most of the several dozen fishermen who came through the door that morning stopped to eye the photo before picking up their lines and lures or some of the 600 pounds of sea-clam bait Surfland would move over the weekend. "Arrrgh, we gotta look at John's ugly mug on the wall all year?" groaned one friend.

More than a few pledged to return for a photo session of their own, but almost a week later, the total number of keepers worthy of the bulletin board was nine.

Those making a serious attempt at joining the photo gallery often seek advice from the Plum Island Boulevard store's proprietor and resident oracle, 76-year-old Kay Moulton, who seems amused and perhaps a little annoyed by the vanity of the anglers who keep her 47-year-old family business booming.

"You can't believe how many people go home and put it online, how many they caught and where and everything," said the slim, white-haired woman, who also said she doesn't know how to turn on a computer. She shook her head. "You'd think they'd want to keep their mouths shut."

If the Homeland Security Department decided the national defense required top-secret classification of the hot fishing spots around Plum Island, the first person headed for maximum security would be Kay Moulton herself. Nearly every customer hits her up for the latest news: "Are they catching them off the refuge?" "How are the flats doing?" "What are they getting them on?"

"They say I talk too much," Kay said.

It's impossible, however, to find a customer who agrees with that assessment.

"You're right out here on the island, all the local guys tend to check in, so you can get the reports and see what's going on," said Joe Camilliere, an Amesbury resident and a Surfland customer for a dozen years or more.

"It's almost like a family when you come in in the morning. You fish, you have your coffee and you hang out. At different times of the year, she makes pancakes for the guys or whatever. It's just a good place. You get to know everybody here."

"It's where everybody in the area stops to find out what's going on, where the fish are, what they're biting, what tide," said Kevin Moore, president of the Plum Island Surfcasters. Surfland Bait and Tackle is a big supporter of the group, which is celebrating its 50th anniversary this year, and especially its programs encouraging youngsters to fish.

"I love seeing the black-and-white pictures of the trophy fish," said Newburyport resident Rachel Holland. "I want my picture up there someday!

"It takes a while even to get in with that circle. You go in there, and you know they've been doing this forever and it's part of the community. But anything I didn't know, I didn't feel funny asking. They were always super about it."

While Kay is the marquee name, all the staff is knowledgeable, including the affable Bill Drelick and Kay's daughters, Martha Moulton and Liz Cowie . Kay's husband, Raymond, still goes down to the shop most days, at least to visit.

Their sons, David and John, worked in the family business, too, and now run Riverfront Marine Sports, with David handling the marina on the Parker River in Newbury and John running the showroom in Salisbury.

A third daughter, Cathy, worked at Surfland when she was younger and now runs Cathy's Country Kitchen in Rowley.

Every possible bit of wall and shelf and floor space in Surfland, which sits a couple hundred yards off the beach in Newbury's piece of the island, is devoted to fishing products, including rods and reels, big spools of more than 100 different types of line, filet knives, waders, and nets in sizes ranging from small to optimistic.

On this Saturday morning, several fishermen appeared at the counter with reels that seemed to be broken, malfunctioning, or in need of new parts at the very least. Kay disassembled them, jiggled this and tightened that, and usually the reel was ready to go in moments.

"I tried everything, I swear," one abashed angler insisted as she handed him back his reel.

"I'm sure you did," she said dryly.

She disparages the notion of a Kay cult, but she also wants to make sure that a visitor has seen the latest Surfland apparel, including the T-shirts that ask, "Are you a Kay customer?"

A sign above the shelf lays out the qualifications, such as "Does Kay make your Top 10 list of the most influential people?" and "Does your wife, girlfriend or mother want to know 'Who the hell is Kay?' "

Back in the late 1950s, Kay and Raymond used to pitch a tent down in the wildlife refuge. "He used to fish. I never fished. We had three little kids. I liked the beach, and he liked to fish.

"My husband lost his job, and he said, 'Let's start a bait and tackle shop.' So we came down and rented the shack out front with the option to buy. That was May 1960.

"We got some used show cases, and we went into Boston with $200, and went to a wholesale place and bought hooks and sinkers, and as soon as we sold that, we took another trip into Boston. That's how we got started."

They moved into the cottage behind the shop. "The windows didn't even have any molding. . . When the wind blew . . . we have just a space heater. . . . My kids used to sit inside a sleeping bag when they wanted to watch TV."

They weren't exactly a hit right off the bat, but they knew something about fishermen and vanity already.

"We decided we needed a gimmick," Kay said, "so we started taking pictures. We got a Polaroid camera and took pictures of people's fish. First couple of years, it was tough going, but we made it."

In 1964, they rebuilt the cottage, put the store on the lower level, and got rid of the shack.

She has kept the pictures over the years, and now gets visits from guys who want to show their children or grandchildren the fish they caught way back when. A lot is different now.

"Biggest change is we don't get the kinds of fish we used to get," Kay said. "We used to get cod; we used to get loads of flounder off the beach. . . . We used to get whiting, and a lot of white perch, and hornpout, and all that's gone." She blames pollution, and noted some encouraging signs, like smelts coming back to the Parker River.

Not long ago, she talked with a man who said he wanted to buy the business. "I said, 'Do you like to fish?' and he said, 'Yeah.' And I said, 'Well, before you think about buying this business, you go home and ask your wife if she's ready to give up her life to run a bait shop so you can go fishing.' Because that's what happened here."

Kay and Raymond still live close by, while one of their daughters lives upstairs. Kay, a Newburyport native, has observed a lot of changes on the island from the hardscrabble days, "and it irks the hell out of me.

"All these rich people are coming down and trying to make it a fancy place or something," she said with a frown. "The average family that used to come and enjoy the beach, a lot of them can't do it anymore," with rental prices so high. And don't get her started on development plans for the Newburyport waterfront. The store sees a lot of new people or people who haven't fished since they were kids. And, she said, lots of women now.

"Get me talking about fishing and I can talk all the time, but get me in a group of women that are social people, I don't know what to say to them. . . . My life has become the fishing shop. Everybody says I should retire, but what would I do? I like this. My life is right here in the shop."

If she ever does retire, the great-grandmother of three won't be going fishing. "I went once with my husband, and I kept waving to all my customers, and he said if I didn't sit down and stop waving, he'd never take me again." And apparently he didn't? Kay chuckled. "No, he didn't."