Why Collect Old Fishing Lures?
I'm sure that everyone into this hobby has their own list of reasons for owning these facinating chunks of wood, metal or plastic-- So I can only try to relate what I feel is the driving force behind my searching out these bits of angling history.
It started early with me; I can remember my father taking me, his oldest son, into the neighborhood hardware store in search of some unrelated item, and giving me run of the store. This gave me the opportunity to study the carved fish-shaped wooden sticks with beautiful paint, shiny hardware and those illustrious glass eyes. They were lying just inches away, but alas, behind glass in the oak case-- only to be opened for the serious customer. There were so many different sizes, colors and shapes, that even if I had been given the opportunity to actually buy one, would have never been able to decide which one to take home.
I had no idea how these objects were actually used. I had been told that they were for fishing, but dad and I went fishing all the time, and had never used anything like them. It was right after WWII and times weren't that great for most people I knew, let alone for us. Those fishing baits were over a dollar apiece-- for that amount of money you could by 8 loaves of bread, 10 pounds of potatoes or several pounds of hamburger. Ordinary people just didn't have the money to buy very many of these. Can you imagine having a tackle box full of baits that today would cost 15 to 25 dollars apiece, and actually taking the chance of a fish chewing them up, or God forbid, losing one in a snag? It would be enough to take the fun out of fishing for many people. All my family used were worms, minnows, crawfish, or Velveeta (farm-raised trout love Velveeta!)
During those times, artificial baits were generally purchased by those lucky enough to have "Disposable Income" or by those less fortunate, only as special gifts. In my mind, I can picture a pregnant wife doing the washing or ironing for the neighbors to earn a little extra money in order to buy her husband a special gift-- that beautiful fishing lure that he so intently stared at every time he passed the store window. And he, after being lovingly presented with it, never using it, for fear of loss. It would lie in his tackle box for him to see and be reminded of her love for him every time he opened it for a hook or sinker. Over the years, it's box would get bleached from the sun, or stained by water from a storm that caught him unprepared. Once in a while, he would take it from it's cardboard bed, and holding it carefully to his eyes, relish the shine of it's paint, the irridescence of it's glass eyes and the sharpness of the well-honed hooks. 'This bait could surely catch the grandest fish' he'd think, only to place it back into it's home, not noticing the hook jab into it's belly.
That couple is gone now, but anytime I look at his bait hanging in my case, I feel part of the same pleasure and enjoyment that it had given it's previous owners all those years ago.