Twenty years ago, there were a dozen fish houses in Key West. Today there are two. For the uninitiated, a fish house is a packing plant that unloads and purchases the seafood from the boats, and transports it to market. The fish house also provides dockage and land storage space, and generally supplies the fuel, ice, bait, gear, and repairs that a fisherman needs to operate efficiently. Additionally the fish house provides a common site where fishermen socialize, work together, and meet to discuss fishery issues.
In years past there were as many as 8 fish houses that handled a broad range of Keys marine products, including lobster, stone crab, snapper, grouper, mackerel, sponge, shark, and a multitude of lesser species. Several others specialized in net fish, and another 6 or 8, worked only with the huge shrimp fishery. Even with so much space dedicated to commercial fishing, there was a general shortage of dock space, and land storage for traps was at a premium.
So what happened? One day the entire Key West waterfront is taken up by commercial fishing, and the next day the remaining fleet is consolidated into two fish houses. One day fishing boats are tied up three abreast because there’s not enough room for the huge fleet, and the next day both remaining fish houses have empty docks. And just yesterday there were so many shrimp boats they had to anchor off the beach for lack of harbor space, and now only a handful cruise into Key West to unload.
Those of us who have lived our lives in Key West’s commercial fishing industry, remember the past with a great sense of loss. Thompson Fish Company, Turtle Kraals, Singleton Shrimp, A&B Fish Company, Freckles Fish Market, Sea Farms, and Thompson O’neil Shrimp Company, once completely dominated Key West Harbor. Today there is a solitary lobster boat to lend a speck of authenticity to the massive tourism complex.
Safe Harbor on Stock Island, was once home to an enormous shrimp fleet. In addition to a large year round fleet, boats came from all over the Gulf and Atlantic, to work the winter months in Key West. Thompson, Coral Shrimp, Bama, Wells, Fernandez, Toomer, Morgan, and Singleton; all had fleets, and all had shrimp houses. Safe Harbor also contained Sea Lobster, Two Friends, T&R Seafood, Carter Brothers, 3D Seafood, Rusty Anchor, and Sea Market, which produced millions of pounds of lobster, stone crab, snapper, grouper, and mackerel. Today, they are consolidated into a single fish house sequestered in one corner of the harbor, while the rest of the port is awaiting redevelopment.
The other side of Stock Island – at the end of Maloney Avenue (the original Overseas Highway) – was home to a fleet of about 200 lobster, crab, and fish boats. Stock Island Lobster Company, Gulf Seafood, and Philip Niles Fish Company (later Ming Seafood), provided a home town port after Key West Harbor was converted to recreational use. In addition to the huge production of seafood there were two bustling boat yards, which serviced most all of the resident commercial fleet. Today, only Stock Island Lobster remains.
How did it come to this? Why have all the fish houses closed? Where are the boats that once populated a dozen fish houses? The questions apparently haven’t mattered to anyone not directly involved in the fisheries. Commercial fishing had come to be viewed as a plague on the land, and there was little public concern as the fishing industry was systematically, and summarily reduced. Indeed, the citizens of Florida, voted overwhelmingly to ban gill net fishing, one of the cleanest, and most directed volume fisheries in the State.
As fisheries were restricted, and fishermen eliminated from their livelihood, fish houses were quietly forced out of business. But then suddenly, someone noticed, and the cry went up in the Florida Keys, and even across America. Save the Working Waterfront! Every community, every governmental body, and every environmental organization took up the torch. Someone had to help the fishermen! Someone had to save the fish houses! Meetings were scheduled, bills were rushed through legislatures, and public hearings were attended by crowds of people. At last, people finally realized we were losing our commercial fishing industry, and were coming to the rescue!
But not so fast! In the headlong rush to take action, something didn’t seem quite right. In the Keys, for example, no one appeared curious as to how it had reached that point. No one talked about addressing the issues that caused the loss of the fish houses. In fact, no one even asked about the hundreds of boats that had disappeared from the scene. It was simply assumed; we were losing our fisheries because the fish houses were closing.
Meanwhile the owners argued that people had the cause and effect relationship backwards, and we were actually losing our fish houses because we were losing our fishermen. Strangely enough, it really didn’t seem to matter to the ‘save the working waterfront’ crowd. For them, the solution was simple and indisputable; prohibit the conversion of fish houses to other uses, and commercial fishing will be preserved.
Public activists and politicians blindly contended that greedy fish house owners were selling out to even greedier developers, and our traditional fisheries were being destroyed. In response, fish house owners argued that you could not force an unprofitable business to remain in operation, and if someone didn’t stop the government from reducing the number of fishermen, there soon would be no fish houses, regardless of what laws were put in place. However, saving the fish houses by controlling oppressive fishery management, proved to be a complex solution, and no one was really interested in dedicating their time to the interminable regulatory process, or bucking the power of the federal government.
Today we find that the working waterfront issue has cooled off along with the economy, and everyone has moved on to the next crisis. Meanwhile, nothing has changed in commercial fishing. Both state and federal fishery managers continue plowing ahead with further restrictions, and the same forces that closed all the fish houses, continue to threaten the few that remain. Indeed, with the specter of the re-authorized Magnuson-Stevens Act giving the fishing bureaucracies more power than ever, the remaining fish houses are in even greater danger of closing.
So, if the threat has not lessened for fish houses, what’s happened to our ‘working waterfront’ friends? I mean, I thought everyone was interested in saving our traditional fishing industry. Wasn’t the whole crowd worried there would be no seafood to eat? Didn’t everyone cry for the plight of the poor fishermen who were being forced out of their livelihood? Weren’t they repulsed at the thought of fishermen not having a place to dock their boat, and store their traps?
Well, as most fishermen sensed all along, there was something a little strange about suddenly becoming the good guy. We instinctively knew the ‘save the working waterfront’ movement was not driven by a fresh infatuation with commercial fishing. No, it just didn’t seem possible that the same folks who long contended we were raping the oceans, and destroying the ecological balance, could have some transcendental conversion, and fall madly in love with our industry.
As with many things in life, the truth was right in front of our faces, but obscured by the rhetoric. In reality, the ‘save the working waterfront’ movement, had little to do with preserving commercial fishing. Yes! Some people were sincerely concerned with saving the fishing industry, but the movement itself was driven by the anti-development crowd. Compared to condos, tourist sites, traffic congestion, and hordes of people impacting our services and environment, commercial fishing represents a low intensity use of the property. Better to keep the scrufty fishermen, than allow the rapacious developers to do their dirty work with the sacred working waterfront.
Not surprisingly, as the economy cooled, the working waterfront movement cooled along with it. No longer faced with the imminent redevelopment of the waterfront, proponents predictably lost interest in preserving the commercial fishing industry, and moved on to the next crisis. The lesson for our industry is fairly simple. Whether they are arguing for preserving the working waterfront, or supporting Catch Share programs, fishermen must be wary of the motives of those who have traditionally opposed us, and become more aware of the real agendas that are in play.
In truth, we are on our own in commercial fishing. Everyone has their own special interest to concern them, and no white knight will be riding to our rescue. If the fishermen are to be saved, then we must do it ourselves, and it will not be through the regulatory system. Change can only come with a fundamental shift in the agenda, and that can only be accomplished with supportive, elected representatives.
From the Fish House Window – Working Waterfront
Monday, May 3rd, 2010 Posted in Commentary, History, Industry, Key West
Twenty years ago, there were a dozen fish houses in Key West. Today there are two. For the uninitiated, a fish house is a packing plant that unloads and purchases the seafood from the boats, and transports it to market. The fish house also provides dockage and land storage space, and generally supplies the fuel, ice, bait, gear, and repairs that a fisherman needs to operate efficiently. Additionally the fish house provides a common site where fishermen socialize, work together, and meet to discuss fishery issues.
In years past there were as many as 8 fish houses that handled a broad range of Keys marine products, including lobster, stone crab, snapper, grouper, mackerel, sponge, shark, and a multitude of lesser species. Several others specialized in net fish, and another 6 or 8, worked only with the huge shrimp fishery. Even with so much space dedicated to commercial fishing, there was a general shortage of dock space, and land storage for traps was at a premium.
So what happened? One day the entire Key West waterfront is taken up by commercial fishing, and the next day the remaining fleet is consolidated into two fish houses. One day fishing boats are tied up three abreast because there’s not enough room for the huge fleet, and the next day both remaining fish houses have empty docks. And just yesterday there were so many shrimp boats they had to anchor off the beach for lack of harbor space, and now only a handful cruise into Key West to unload.
Those of us who have lived our lives in Key West’s commercial fishing industry, remember the past with a great sense of loss. Thompson Fish Company, Turtle Kraals, Singleton Shrimp, A&B Fish Company, Freckles Fish Market, Sea Farms, and Thompson O’neil Shrimp Company, once completely dominated Key West Harbor. Today there is a solitary lobster boat to lend a speck of authenticity to the massive tourism complex.
Safe Harbor on Stock Island, was once home to an enormous shrimp fleet. In addition to a large year round fleet, boats came from all over the Gulf and Atlantic, to work the winter months in Key West. Thompson, Coral Shrimp, Bama, Wells, Fernandez, Toomer, Morgan, and Singleton; all had fleets, and all had shrimp houses. Safe Harbor also contained Sea Lobster, Two Friends, T&R Seafood, Carter Brothers, 3D Seafood, Rusty Anchor, and Sea Market, which produced millions of pounds of lobster, stone crab, snapper, grouper, and mackerel. Today, they are consolidated into a single fish house sequestered in one corner of the harbor, while the rest of the port is awaiting redevelopment.
The other side of Stock Island – at the end of Maloney Avenue (the original Overseas Highway) – was home to a fleet of about 200 lobster, crab, and fish boats. Stock Island Lobster Company, Gulf Seafood, and Philip Niles Fish Company (later Ming Seafood), provided a home town port after Key West Harbor was converted to recreational use. In addition to the huge production of seafood there were two bustling boat yards, which serviced most all of the resident commercial fleet. Today, only Stock Island Lobster remains.
How did it come to this? Why have all the fish houses closed? Where are the boats that once populated a dozen fish houses? The questions apparently haven’t mattered to anyone not directly involved in the fisheries. Commercial fishing had come to be viewed as a plague on the land, and there was little public concern as the fishing industry was systematically, and summarily reduced. Indeed, the citizens of Florida, voted overwhelmingly to ban gill net fishing, one of the cleanest, and most directed volume fisheries in the State.
As fisheries were restricted, and fishermen eliminated from their livelihood, fish houses were quietly forced out of business. But then suddenly, someone noticed, and the cry went up in the Florida Keys, and even across America. Save the Working Waterfront! Every community, every governmental body, and every environmental organization took up the torch. Someone had to help the fishermen! Someone had to save the fish houses! Meetings were scheduled, bills were rushed through legislatures, and public hearings were attended by crowds of people. At last, people finally realized we were losing our commercial fishing industry, and were coming to the rescue!
But not so fast! In the headlong rush to take action, something didn’t seem quite right. In the Keys, for example, no one appeared curious as to how it had reached that point. No one talked about addressing the issues that caused the loss of the fish houses. In fact, no one even asked about the hundreds of boats that had disappeared from the scene. It was simply assumed; we were losing our fisheries because the fish houses were closing.
Meanwhile the owners argued that people had the cause and effect relationship backwards, and we were actually losing our fish houses because we were losing our fishermen. Strangely enough, it really didn’t seem to matter to the ‘save the working waterfront’ crowd. For them, the solution was simple and indisputable; prohibit the conversion of fish houses to other uses, and commercial fishing will be preserved.
Public activists and politicians blindly contended that greedy fish house owners were selling out to even greedier developers, and our traditional fisheries were being destroyed. In response, fish house owners argued that you could not force an unprofitable business to remain in operation, and if someone didn’t stop the government from reducing the number of fishermen, there soon would be no fish houses, regardless of what laws were put in place. However, saving the fish houses by controlling oppressive fishery management, proved to be a complex solution, and no one was really interested in dedicating their time to the interminable regulatory process, or bucking the power of the federal government.
Today we find that the working waterfront issue has cooled off along with the economy, and everyone has moved on to the next crisis. Meanwhile, nothing has changed in commercial fishing. Both state and federal fishery managers continue plowing ahead with further restrictions, and the same forces that closed all the fish houses, continue to threaten the few that remain. Indeed, with the specter of the re-authorized Magnuson-Stevens Act giving the fishing bureaucracies more power than ever, the remaining fish houses are in even greater danger of closing.
So, if the threat has not lessened for fish houses, what’s happened to our ‘working waterfront’ friends? I mean, I thought everyone was interested in saving our traditional fishing industry. Wasn’t the whole crowd worried there would be no seafood to eat? Didn’t everyone cry for the plight of the poor fishermen who were being forced out of their livelihood? Weren’t they repulsed at the thought of fishermen not having a place to dock their boat, and store their traps?
Well, as most fishermen sensed all along, there was something a little strange about suddenly becoming the good guy. We instinctively knew the ‘save the working waterfront’ movement was not driven by a fresh infatuation with commercial fishing. No, it just didn’t seem possible that the same folks who long contended we were raping the oceans, and destroying the ecological balance, could have some transcendental conversion, and fall madly in love with our industry.
As with many things in life, the truth was right in front of our faces, but obscured by the rhetoric. In reality, the ‘save the working waterfront’ movement, had little to do with preserving commercial fishing. Yes! Some people were sincerely concerned with saving the fishing industry, but the movement itself was driven by the anti-development crowd. Compared to condos, tourist sites, traffic congestion, and hordes of people impacting our services and environment, commercial fishing represents a low intensity use of the property. Better to keep the scrufty fishermen, than allow the rapacious developers to do their dirty work with the sacred working waterfront.
Not surprisingly, as the economy cooled, the working waterfront movement cooled along with it. No longer faced with the imminent redevelopment of the waterfront, proponents predictably lost interest in preserving the commercial fishing industry, and moved on to the next crisis. The lesson for our industry is fairly simple. Whether they are arguing for preserving the working waterfront, or supporting Catch Share programs, fishermen must be wary of the motives of those who have traditionally opposed us, and become more aware of the real agendas that are in play.
In truth, we are on our own in commercial fishing. Everyone has their own special interest to concern them, and no white knight will be riding to our rescue. If the fishermen are to be saved, then we must do it ourselves, and it will not be through the regulatory system. Change can only come with a fundamental shift in the agenda, and that can only be accomplished with supportive, elected representatives.