Vintage magazines enjoyable diversion

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As the light of a single bulb cast dim light on the task at hand, I made myself comfortable, folded back a brittle page, and took a step back in time.

Back to an era when man was still a decade away from walking on the moon, JFK had yet to be elected president, and “Vietnam” was a largely unknown word in the American vernacular.

Back when things were much, much different … or so we’ve been led to believe.

A friend had stumbled onto a pile of old Field & Stream magazines while disposing of some of her father’s belongings and told me she thought I’d appreciate them.

She was right … but neither of us realized how deep that enjoyment would be.

The treasures she delivered weren’t collectibles. Their pages were yellowed and stained, and some covers were hanging by a thread.

It only seemed right that I explore those pages under the dim light of our family camp, which was built during the same era.

So late one night, I settled in, took the top magazine off the stack, and escaped to 1959 … and a time when everything was different … or so I’d been led to believe.

It didn’t take long to disabuse me of that notion.

“There has got to be some courtesy and cooperation; otherwise, there will be no place left for hunters,” one letter concluded, echoing the sentiment of today and immediately snapping me back to the present.

Many things were different. But others, it seemed, weren’t. Not by a long shot.

Landowner relations, it turned out, was one such case. In February of 1959, Field & Stream readers had plenty to say about the issue, all in response to a story that had run in a previous edition.

A few pages later, as the Sportsman’s Shopper ads began, I began to chuckle. I could, had I the need (and a workable time machine) buy myself a half-dozen fishing lures for 99 cents. Or a two-man fishing raft for $44.95. Or an “Exact Replica Army Grenade (as used in hand combat)” for the princely sum of $1.98 (plus 25 cents for shipping and handling).

I could have bought myself a Colt Cobra .38 handgun for $3.95, postage paid (or so the ad told me) … or a “Genuine! Original! Potato Sack Dress” for a buck.

Different. Much different.

But a few pages later, this headline: “Wildlife Budget Shrinking.” Or not so different after all.

In February of 1959, the folks at Field & Stream told us all about the best new outboard boats on the market. For a couple thousand bucks, you could get your pick of the bunch.

In June’s edition, they talked about the best fishing in America, and legendary fishing writer A.J. McClane told readers how to maximize their enjoyment by using the right type of boat.

In March, Clare Conley explained how dams were becoming a scourge in the western U.S., choking off more and more rivers.

I read and read, exploring new places through the prism of 1959 Americana. Many features were amusing. Others informative.

And in April’s edition, I got to come home.

One of the cover stories that month referred simply to “Maine Brook Trout,” but the simple headline did nothing to prepare me for the treat that waited inside.

The author of the piece was none other than Edmund Ware Smith, who gained some level of fame with his “One-Eyed Poacher” stories.

His tale was one I could relate to: an epic fishing trip (this one to Baxter State Park) nearly derailed by uncooperative weather, raging water, and deep snow.

His fishing buddies from Damariscotta – they called themselves “Jake’s Rangers” – ended up having quite a time. And Edmund Ware Smith ended up spinning quite a tale after he returned.

I turned page after brittle page that night, but eventually it was time to turn in.

The magic of the written word, however, is that any time I choose, I can pick up those well-worn copies, open them, and step back in time once again.

Back to an era when everything was different … or so we’ve been led to believe.

‘Junkapork’ memories abound

On Tuesday I told you about a favorite summer-time haunt of campers and visitors to Beech Hill Pond in Otis.

That spot – Chunk of Pork Rock, or simply “Junkapork” to many – has served as a figurative and literal jumping off point for kids for years.

Leaping from Junkapork, I maintained, was a rite of passage for generations of children looking to emulate their older siblings.

As it turned out, many of you agreed. But some pointed out that I didn’t go nearly far enough.

Reader Mary Ellen Darling, who has a summer place on Beech Hill with husband Ed, called to say that the leap wasn’t merely a rite of passage for youngsters.

Darling said that when her youngest grandchild finally got old enough to leap off Junkapork for the first time, she joined in … also for the first time.

And since I’ve taken plenty of good-natured potshots at my cousin Vaughn Knowles over the years, I thought it only be fair to include a few of his e-mailed comments here.

Vaughn, you may recall, is the inventor of a nearly rule-free brand of volleyball practiced by visitors to his Beech Hill Pond camp on most summer Sundays and is one of the four competitors in the family’s biennial Calvinball championship.

“I read your article yesterday with heightened interest for obvious reasons but it was particularly timely,” he wrote. “My Uncle Don French, his daughter Ellen (my other cousin) and her two teenage daughters spent the previous three days staying in [my brother’s] camp.

“On Sunday we all climbed into my boat to go for a lake tour on a gorgeous day. After a few minutes of the low speed cruise, the two young girls in the bow appeared to be losing interest quickly. That all changed when ‘the rock’ came into view. They became quite animated as they related the details of their last visit to Beech Hill and subsequent leap off ‘the rock,’ all the while begging to jump again.

“Their mom and granddad were less enthusiastic but we overwhelmed them. Even Uncle Don, 74 years young, climbed the rickety ladder to the top with the excuse of getting a bird’s eye view of the jumps. Convinced that jumping was the easiest method of descending, all five of us made the plunge, some more willing than others but all glad for having done it.

“Yesterday they headed home to South Carolina and New Hampshire but before they left I queried them as to their favorite activity,” he wrote.

” You guessed it. Uncle Don and cousin Ellen loved it all but the teens were unanimous in their wish to return next year to jump again off ‘the rock.’ Many people reading the article must have had similar reactions.”

From what I’ve heard, they did. And as I suspected, even those who spend their summers on other area lakes said the column could just as well have been written about their own special rock.

Coming up on ‘Going Outdoors’

As if you haven’t heard enough about that small rock with the odd name, camera guru Dave Simpson and I will be heading to Junakpork on Sunday afternoon to film a piece for our weekly “Going Outdoors” segment, which runs weekly on ABC-7 and FOX 22.

With temperatures expected to be in the mid-90s, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of company on the rock, and we’ll hopefully be able to show you how popular the jump has become for young and old alike.

That “Going Outdoors” piece will run on Monday during ABC-7’s 6 p.m. and 11 p.m. newscasts, and on FOX 22’s 10 p.m. news.

John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.