Inner City Fly Fishing

Written for "The Unlikely Muse" Houston Sidewalk 1998

Mark Marmon of Metro Anglers promises to get you fly fishing within ten minutes of downtown Houston, and it's not because he has a really fast car. Would you believe that carp, bass, mullet, perch, sunfish and coy reside happily in the city's dingy Bayous and Day-Glo-colored manmade lakes? Mark Marmon will convert any skeptic who thinks the only organism that could survive in these tepid waters is E. coli. Still, the name of the game is catch and release.

Fly fishing is practically a religion for some. This zen-like practice which involves the art of fly-tying, with delicate tools, a nearly invisible line and ornate artificial flies attracts a faithful following. A fly fisherman prides himself in his attentiveness, his knowledge of the environment, and his skillful casting that leaves the water seemingly untouched. It's a quiet, somewhat solitary sport where the fish can see and hear you and vise versa. Needless to say, it's not the same type of fishing where you strap yourself into an angler's seat and reel in a 200lb tuna while screaming profanities at the top of your lungs. Less drama, more process.

Marmon, who grew up fly fishing with his grandfather in the Medina and Guadalupe Rivers of San Antonio, makes a point of "wetting a line" nearly everyday. He says the diehard fly fisherman always has his gear in the car, and in Mark's case, his gear and some Honduran cigars. Besides his rod and lines, assorted flies, his hemostat (for removing the hook) and nipper (for trimming the line), Mark carries a detailed log book of every fish that he catches. Since January, he's caught 225.

About a year ago, a plastic surgeon from Ann Arbor, Michigan responded to an on-line ad that Mark had posted with his pledge of inner city angling-- he had joked to friends that he could start a business of his favorite pursuit. Mark's first client was so pleased with his return that Mark started receiving word-of-mouth referrals. Year's of experience, a love for the sport and forensic knowledge of Houston's waterways (Mark previously worked for a bio assessment company -- another reason he knows not to keep the fish) were the impetus for Marmon's Metro Anglers.

There are 3 "lies" (the place where fish hold and feed) to which Mark directs his clients: the lakes on the grounds of Transco Tower, Braes Bayou, and 2 lakes near the Astrodome. Mark provides all of the equipment and the trips last about 2 hours.

For our urban fishing excursion, Mark and I met at Braes Bayou near the corner of Stella Link and North Braeswood. We parked our cars at a run down strip center behind a Texaco Station and walked south across the Stella Link bridge to the other side of the Bayou. As we passed over the water, we -- with the aid of polarized sunglasses --could see several dozen huge carp, mullet and coy actively cutting the surface. We climbed gingerly down a steep incline and across a high speed bike path full of cyclers that recognized Mark and shouted "how's the fishing?" and other inaudible greetings. Within seconds, Mark cast his coffee bean fly in the water and repeatedly casted in the direction of the fish. When Mr. coffee bean didn't "match the hatch" which means imitate what the fish are eating, Mark switched to a bead head nymph, and bingo! We had been there for about 15 minutes when he had a take on his line and reeled in a sizable German brown carp, number 226.

While inner city angling might lack the idyllic scenery and elicit more than a few inquisitive stares, once you witness the abundance and variety of fish, it's hard to notice anything else. What's more is now when you post a "gone fishing" sign on your office door during lunch hour, it's feasible that you have.

Metro Anglers
713-666-8868
mcubed@usa.net

Brucker Survival Capsules

Image: Brucker Survival Capsule arriving at Texas Oil exhibition by The Center for Land Use Interpretation. Photo: Rachel Hooper

Written for "The Unlikely Muse" Houston Sidewalk 1998

The Martians have landed on Wayside Drive in East Houston. A field of bright orange saucers with their hatches poised to open invokes images of Grover Mills, New Jersey during Orson Welles' 1938 radio broadcast, "The War of the Worlds." Perhaps these strange vessels are carrying "the vanguard of an invading army from the planet Mars." Do they mean us harm? Actually, they mean to save our lives, but not in the Heaven's Gate sense.

The alien ships are really fiberglass lifeboats-- the lifesaving devices found aboard oil riggs and jumbo seafaring ships. Alexander/Ryan Marine & Safety sells these refurbished saucer crafts which we're designed in 1968 by a now defunct safety company called Whittaker, and resemble space technology of the era. Known as Brucker Survival Capsules, these round lifeboats have room for 28 passengers and are typically equipped with life preservers, seatbelts and 7 days worth of sea rations that would make you seasick if you weren't already-- unappetizing carbo cubes labeled "compressed concentrated food" and single-serving water bags.

But not if you're James Bond. Fans of 007 might recognize the Brucker Capsule from the final scene of "The Spy Who Loved Me." James and his handsome companion await sea rescue in a modified Brucker capsule, fur-lined and furnished with champagne and mood music. So much for rations and sea sores. That same lifeboat was later sold and incorporated into an episode of the 70s television program "The Six Million Dollar Man."

If you look in the backyard of Alexander/Ryan, you'll see some more streamlined double-hulled lifeboats. These are the modern crafts that replace the Brucker Capsules. But the space age capsules are still for sale if you're planning to make a low budget sci-fi film or a James Bond-inspired love den.

A topical side note: The main impetus for today's mandatory marine safety equipment--flares, survival suits, radios, rafts-- was an event that occurred back in 1912, the sinking of the Titanic.

Alexander/Ryan Marine & Safety

2000 Wayside Dr. Houston, TX 77261-9363

(713) 923-1671

To get there: Take I-10 East to Wayside. Head south on Wayside about 1/2 mile and Alexander/Ryan will be on the east side of the street at both 1910 and 2000. The 1910 lot says Nova Enterprises, but it's rented by Alexander/Ryan for the storage of their Brucker Survival Capsules.

Kaplan's Ben-Hur (RIP)

Written for Sidewalk.com, 1998

Granny Depot

If you're wondering where grandma still finds her patio dresses and long legs, Kaplan's-Ben Hur may be her secret source. This unadorned department store on Yale is delightfully frozen in the 1950s while the rest of the neighborhood gradually submits to the 21st-century. Enter Kaplan's and step back to a time when shop tenders were more like extended family and merchandise could be paid for "on account." Despite its fast food neighbors, Kaplan's remains an unyielding fixture, family-run for 85 years, with patron's from almost as far back.

Martin Kaplan, the current proprietor, is as friendly and helpful as the man who sold you your first pair of Buster Brown's. Martin's grandfather, Dave Kaplan, started the business in 1913 and passed it on to his two son's Bennett (Martin's father) and Herman, hence the catchy name Kaplan's Ben Hur. (Sorry to disappoint all you Charleton Heston fans.) What began as an Old West-style general/feed store evolved over the years to its current one-story department store structure. Though they don't carry cotton seed meal anymore, Kaplan's still has some old-fashioned merchandise, like hand-embroidered doilies, white linen baby bonnets, and pastilles in ornate tin boxes. And if you're ever missing mom, the mostly female staff at Kaplan's can satisfy your need for nurturing. On a cold day, you'd be surprised if they didn't ask if you were dressed warm enough. Many of these women are native Houstonian's, some even grew up in The Heights and remember collecting Kaplan's trading stamps, or receiving a free toy on their birthdays.

The most impressive corner of Kaplan's is the pastel colored Lingerie Department. Sandra McGee, who shopped at Kaplan's with her grandmother in the 1950s, can show you around and educate you to the subtle distinctions between a mu-mu, a patio dress, and a model coat. An ample selection of girdles, full and half-slips, and long legs or flairs (knee-length nylon underwear) reveals the age of some of their clientele. The Gift Department, with impeccably tidy glass shelves, has figurines by M.J. Hummel, Royal Doulton and Lladro that are aesthetically arranged with the pride of grandma's curios cabinet. The Housewares section has tea, coffee, shortbread, hard candy, jams and jellies. Here you'll find one of the best selections of Texas cookbooks and Texas foodstuff in Houston. The Stationary Department has tasteful greeting cards, puzzles, photo albums and assorted Bridge paraphernalia-- essential tools of the grandma trade.

EPILOGUE

Kaplan's was sold and demolished in 2005

Formerly located at:

2125 Yale St

Houston, TX 77008

Texas City Skyline

Written for "The Unlikely Muse" Houston Sidewalk, 1997

Let's face it, there's something Orwellian about Texas City. Even with it's proximity to Houston, extremely affordable living, and the title of 1997 All-America City, most people would need more than a nudge to live there. All the perks in the world, and the cutest downtown can't conceal the foreboding skyline of the Texas City Industrial Complex — annual manufacturer of billions of pounds of petrochemical products. And 50 years ago this past April, Texas City earned a third name, The Texas City Disaster, when a chemical fire in the harbor led to a litany of explosions and a small tidal wave — an apocalyptic event of Biblical proportions that left 4 percent of the population dead.

But Texas City, like its sister cities of Gary, Indiana and Newark, New Jersey, has many lives and many secrets: This sacrificial lamb by day is transformed at sundown into an alluring futuristic landscape teaming with activity. Driving through the Industrial Complex at night, one might wonder if this is where the Nexus 6 replicants are assembled. This fantastic skyline of glimmering lights and fiery torches has a hypnotic quality that's strangely soothing, like the moment you decide to uncover your eyes and watch a televised surgery. In between the refineries and veiled by perpetual fog, an occasional patch of green grass is a reminder that nature once lived here. The towering smoke stacks and electric transformers all blend together in a endless network of metal and monkey bars. Some manmade canals and modest attempts at landscaping along Bay Street appear as alien as palm trees on the moon. Just follow the grid-like, numbered streets (we recommend 5th Avenue for its irony) until you find the best view of this awe-inspiring twilight zone. If you park your vehicle to gaze upon the complex's glory, don't be surprised when your visited by a Rutger Hauer-like security guard, just move on...slowly.

From Houston: Take 45 south 30 miles to exit 16, FM 1764. Follow this road east to 146 south, then take 1765 east to the Texas City Industrial Complex.

Image: © BP p.l.c.