The Hat
By Eugene Lee

The summer of 1926, when I was thirteen years old, always seemed the greatest summer of my life. My name is Eugene Lee, but everybody calls by Beany. I live, each summer, with my parents in a cottage on the shore of Lake Ripley, which is close to the small town of Cambridge, Wisconsin. My father, Edward Edson Lee, writes books and short stories, under the pen name of Leo Edwards. Everybody calls him Leo.

I started out the summer by receiving a gift of a wonderful fishing boat. Then I had my exciting adventure with the large black bass, as told in a former story, Captain Nemo.

I had so much publicity from the catching of the bass, I called Captain Nemo, that I came to consider myself as the best fisherman on the Lake. There was one fishing mystery that bothered me. While I caught hundreds of crappies, very few were over half a pound in weight. At times I would see my friend, Mr. Hibbard, who had taught me much about fishing on Ripley, with strings of fifty crappies. Usually about ten of the crappies in his string would be the largest crappies I had every seen. I estimated their weight close to tow pounds each. They were veritable giants. The largest crappies I had ever seen. I knew he had a special fish hold he had never told me about. I knew better than to ask him, figuring that he would tell me when the time was right.

It was the middle of June. My father and I were down to the lake shore building a new minnow box for me. We saw Emily Higgins, Mr. Higgins sister, rowing across the bay toward our pier. She had a very worried look as she rowed up to our pier and spoke to me.

"Beany, my brother and I need your help badly." Then she turned and spoke to my father.

"My brother took very sick this morning. I was able to partially to do the chores. I would like your permission for Beany to come over to the Island for a few days and do the chores and other jobs. They are just too much for me. Beany has helped my brother so many times that he know everything that has to be done." She then turned to me and continued.

"If your father permits you, can you come over to the Island now and finish up the morning work, and stay until my brother is feeling better?" Then she tuned back to my father.

"I think by brother needs a doctor. So if you will permit Beany to stay with us for a few days and help out, I'll wait here until you get Dr. Amundson from Cambridge."

Naturally, Leo and I both said yes. I got together a few personal things I would need, and immediately rowed over to the Island and went to work. I stayed at the Island for four days, until Mr. Hibbard was feeling better, and then went home. I checked at the Island daily to see if things were going good.

Shortly after Mr. Hibbard was feeling better we went bass fishing together. Mr. Hibbard laid his bass pole on the pole rack in the boat, and turned to me.

"Beany, a thank you is not enough for what you have done for Emily and me. I know, by the looks I've seen on your face, that you wondered where I caught the very large crappies you have seen in my live box. I'm going to show you how and where these fish were caught. I'll show you where now and tomorrow morning at dawn I'll show you how." He then opened his tackle box and took out a small rope that looked about fifty feel long. It had a lead weight on one end. It was a depth finding rope, with marks on it every three feet. He then continued: "Row the boat out into the bay, Beany, as I direct you and stop when I say so. It is dead calm and it will be easy to find the place."

After about fifteen minutes he said stop rowing and then spoke to me.

"How deep do you think it is here?" I looked over the side of the boat and replied.

"It must be over sixty feet deep. I never fish in this area because it is so deep that nothing bites."

"Would you believe," said Mr. Hibbard with a smile, "that it is nine feet deep under our boat?"

Mr. Hibbard then lowered the depth finding rope over the side of the bat and handed it to me. I looked at the markings on the rope and it said nine feet. He then told me to row in any direction about two lengths of the boat and sound with the weight again. I did this, and with the full length of the fifty-foot rope out, the weight did not touch bottom. I looked puzzled and Mr. Hibbard spoke up.

"Beany, you are now over what I call -- The Hat. This is where I catch the very large crappies. Tomorrow morning, at dawn, I will meet you out here and I will tell you more about The Hat. Bring a heavy pole, Beany, and rig it just like I told you when you caught Captain Nemo, your champion bass. Be sure and put at least a ten-pound test line on your reel. Also bring a bucket of the smallest shiner minnows you have."

The next morning at four o'clock I met Mr. Hibbard out in the bay. He smiled and spoke to me.

"Tie your boat up along side of mine, Beany. The fewer anchors we have let down the better we are. These large crappies, that live on The Hat got big because they are smart." Mr. Hibbard reached over and took a few minnows out of my bucket and put them in his minnow bucket and continued: "Don't put any weight or bobber on your line, Beany. Naturally you are using a gold plated, number four, short shanked offset hook, like I told you yesterday. Put on the smallest minnow you can find in your bucket. Put the minnow on the hook by inserting the hook at the back of the dorsal fin and bringing the hook thru the minnow and out the top of its head. This will kill the minnow but will fool the big, smart crappies that are a few feet below our boats. They will think it is a dead minnow sinking down from the surface. They will not see the hook, because you have covered it." Mr. Hibbard took a short rest from his lengthy instructions and went on: "Cast out about fifteen feet. Then set your reel so the line will not play out when the strike comes. It wall be a big one, and you will have only seconds to reel the crappie in to your net. Do not attempt to play them, as you do with bass. When crappies reach this size their mouths are so tender that fifty percent of the time the hook will rip out if you attempt to play with them."

I cast out my line as directed and before it reached the bottom I had a giant strike. In seconds I had a huge crappie in my landing net. I estimated its weight at close to two pounds. Mr. Hibbard was very busy landing crappies but he spoke to me.

"When you get ten crappies, Beany, stop fishing. Loosen your boat from mine and row off about three hundred feet and anchor. I'll join you when I get ten fish." When we were both together Mr. Hibbard continued: "Beany, I know I am the only person on the lake that knows about The Hat. The location of The Hat was shown to my by a Mr. Evinrude, who is now dead, that lived on the lake all his life. He told me to use great caution in passing the information on The Hat and its location to other people. I have followed certain rules to avoid questions of people. I always fish The Hat at dawn, when few boats are on the lake. I try to limit my catch to ten large crappies. If I want more crappies I go down along the ledges on the West shore, where you fish, and catch the rest of my limit of fifty in small crappies. When I take my string of fish to a farmer friend, he just might comment on how I was lucky to get a few real big crappies. He would never suspect I had a place where I caught only the large size. I suggest you follow the same practice, Beany. Never take another person with you to fish on The Hat unless you talk to me first. Never tell another person about The Hat. Not even your parents.

About two weeks later Leo came to me and said, "Beany, this Saturday a man named Paul Holt plans to visit us here a the Lake for a week. He is a publisher, from Chicago, that is interested in my works and wants to talk about contracts. He first wanted me to come to Chicago, but when I told him about how many fish you caught, he suddenly said he would drive here to Hi-Lee and talk contracts. I had been told he is an avid fisherman. Would you take him fishing and see that he gets some nice fish?" Leo smiled and continued: "Don't treat Mr. Hold like some of the big city fisherman that you take out on the lake. I know, that some of them you do not like, and you call them sports. Treat Mr. Hold like a family friend." Leo then poked me in the side and continued: "It is very important to me. Beany, that Mr. Hold has a good time, and I know that you will do your best."

Mr. Holt arrived at the Lake on Saturday evening. We soon got a big fishing thing going, but before I could take him on The Hat I had to take him over to the Island to meet Mr. Hibbard. Mr. Hibbard explained the importance of keeping the secret of The Hat to Mr. Holt. He also told Mr. Holt that The Hat was a high point of stone left by the Wisconsin glacier that came thru many centuries in the past. He said The Hat is what is called a plateau, and is only twenty feel across at the top. On all sides of The Hat the water is seventy feet deep."

Early next morning, Mr. Holt and I went on The Hat to fish the large crappies. Then we would finish our crappie catch along the ledges of the West shore. In the evening we would cast for bass at a special place on the East side of the island. Mr. Hibbard would often join us. We all became the best of friends.

Pool Leo had company but he never saw much of him, as he spent every morning and evening fishing with me. Mr. Holt even went out to the creek with me and helped seine the minnows we used for out crappie fishing. Leo and Mr. Hold did find the time to get together and arrive at a good contract, that pleased Leo and his publisher in New York.

The following Saturday, when Mr. Holt was about to leave to go back to Chicago, he came to me.

"Beany, you have shown me one of the best times I have every had in my life. I've traveled all around the world and never have had a more pleasant time." He then smiled and put his arm around my waist and continued: "Mrs. Holt and myself have never had a son. If we ever do, I hope he will be like you." Then he shook my hand and continued: "Would it be too much to ask if I could come back next summer for a week to fish with you and Mr. Hibbard?" He smiled and turned to my father.

"This is only if your father and mother invite me."

After Mr. Holt left my father took me by the arm.

"Come down to the house, Beany, and see the contract I signed with Mr. Holt. I explained it, by phone, to my publishers in New York. They think it is great. As you will se, when you read the contract, it is to produce plays for a radio station in Chicago. Their own writers will do the plays using my books and characters. I will not only receive a few thousand dollars extra each year on the contract, but more important it may double or triple the yearly book sales. This is what makes my publishers in New York very happy." He then put his arms around my shoulder and continued: "I own it all to you, Beany. You and Mr. Hibbard showed Mr. Holt such a fine time. Next summer, if you wish, we will invite Mr. Holt back to the lake when the fishing is the best.