We all know farming can be a tough business.

But commercial fishing can be tougher still.

FISH TUGS docked at Frankfort 45 years ago in Betsie Bay. At one time, both Northport and Frankfort actually had more fish tugs than Leland. A Frankfort fish tug is on display at Glen Haven in the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.

One reason (other than that early on it became something of an artist’s mecca) Leland became so well known for its Fishtown is because commercial fishermen there, if reduced in number, were able to eke out a living when other ports on Lake Michigan lost their fishermen altogether.

There once weren’t too many places on the big lake that didn’t have at least one fish tug. Suttons Bay, Greilickville and Omena all had fish tugs. And the fishing fleet at Northport was actually larger than the one at Leland.

On Sept. 1, 1949, the Enterprise’s lead story proclaimed that “Great Lakes commercial fishing is at a new low,” and fishermen were complaining that the limited income from their meager catches “doesn’t pay for the gasoline.”

The newspaper reported that less than half the number of boats in the trade were in operation as had been 10 or 15 years earlier.

“Time was when the county produced 100,000 pounds in a good week,” the newspaper reported. “Today 1,000 of trout or whitefish any week would be phenomenal.”

The Enterprise went on to report that, “at Leland’s fishtown, only four out of eight boats are operating.”

Meanwhile, “at Northport, with five boats operating in place of the nine or ten of former years, it’s the same discouraging story. One day this week Pete Carlson came in with a total of six fish from 15 boxes of nets.”

And, “Omena and Suttons Bay, until recent years busy fishing ports, have no rigs today.”
In neighboring Benzie County, Oleson’s Fisheries, one of the oldest commercial outfits on Lake Michigan, folded its nets and pulled up its boat.

The Enterprise added that the decision left the community, “which once had 17 busy fishtugs with only three part-time fishermen.”

It was speculated that the sea lamprey, a parasite, might be “responsible to some extent for the destruction of the commercial varieties of fish. There is another theory that conflicting laws among the states bordering the Great Lakes have reduced the numbers. Whatever the cause, the fishermen are facing the fact that the whitefish and trout are nearly gone.”

The only good news in the article was the report that “there has been a good run of chubs and Leland boats have brought in lifts of 700 to 800 pounds.” The chubs, where they could be marketed, were bringing about 20 cents a pound at the time.

Chubs, in large measure, were to keep the industry going throughout the 1950s.
But, in 1964, a few people downstate died and tainted fish were blamed.

“What Next for Fishermen?” read the headline for an article in the Grand Rapids Press edition of Nov. 1, 1964.

After relating that “the whitefish had already disappeared in numbers” when “the botulism scare came along and all but chased the West Michigan fishing fleets to shore for good.” Chubs, easy to find and easy to net, “piled up in freezers.”

At that point, the perch industry in Lake Erie, a very sizeable one, had collapsed; apparently because of pollution. The loss of the fish in that lake was seen as presenting an opportunity for commercial perch fishing in Lake Michigan.

Allen Tornovish, a young fisherman from Holland, Mich., was going after the perch and a picture of him tending his nets accompanied the article.

One other picture of another young fisherman also accompanied the article. The caption read: “Smoked whitefish are again being produced in numbers at Leland’s famed fishtown. Bill Carlson removes a healthy sample from the smoke room.”

In the text of this article, the story reported that “those who choose to make their living from the sea seemingly have always been blessed with a special brand of optimism.”

The reporter was likely describing Fishtown’s Bill Carlson.