For Morris

A Preface: Morris “Jib” Snider was an old sailor/fisherman about town that most everyone knew. He was a drinker and was not, therefore, a person most local citizens looked up to. Some, in fact, viewed him with no small amount of disgust. However; among persons who had an interest in sailing and/or fishing on Lake Erie he was held in much esteem (for his knowledge of the lake). When he talked about such things - they listened.

The Story: As noted, Jib had become close friends with the grape. So it should come as no surprise that no small part of the funds he earned with his boat (the “Owl”) were usually applied toward promoting that cause - as opposed to those embraced by the local grocer and haberdasher. And thus, it should also be of no further surprise that one year when winter came, and the lake stretched like a vast frozen desert from Vermilion to Ontario that Jib found himself without proper attire.

At this juncture in time “ Doc” Dickason enters the scene. Perhaps the best way to describe the doctor is to say that he was everything that Mr. Snider was not. The doctor was a big man. Jib was small. The doctor was well-educated. Jib was not. The doctor was prosperous. Jib was not. But they did share at least two things. Both were good at what they did. And both had heart - they really cared about other people.

During his college years it seems that the Dr. having been a man of fashion, had acquired a racoon coat. As the years turned the coat eventually lost status in the good doctor's wardrobe, and had consequently been relegated to a place in the recesses of his closet where it sat until a need for it should arise.

And so it was that the time came when the need arose in the person of one Jib Snider. And so it also was that the doctor made Jib the proud new proprietor of the coat.

As previously mentioned the doctor was a "big man" and Jib "was not". So - this was that which folks (who happened to be near the the New York Central Railroad crossing on Decatur Street) saw the first day Jib wore the coat “Doc” Dickason had given him:

There was old Jib Snider swaggering across the crossing in this newly acquired racoon coat (the hem of which was dragging along the ground) as splendiferously as if he were the King of England. And every once in awhile one would see a foot come jutting out from under the coat.

One thing that apparently made this thought picture particularly humorous is the fact that the old sailor had gotten into the habit of shopping for his shoes in the trash behind the local undertaker’s, Andy Beeckel’s, place on Division/Main Street. And more often then not he was wearing shoes of different colors (i.e. one would be white while the other was brown, etc.).

Epilogue: Again, Mr. Snider was not what a majority of citizens (at that time) considered to be an upstanding member of the community. Yet it is obvious that late Dr. Dickason was inclined to look after him.

To be sure, Jib was a clown, a drunk, and a slob. But he was also an extremely adept fisherman and sailor. And Dr. Dickason had an ability to look past the appearance of a swarthy scoundrel to see and appreciate something that everyone else seemed to have missed; Jib had heart.

This, my friends, provides us with both a wonderful and rare glimpse into, not only the personality of an old Vermilion fisherman, but also that of "Doc" Dickason and the person who was good enough to lead me to this story.

_{Ref: Lake Erie Fishermen - Work, Tradition, and Identity; Lloyd and Mullen, University of Illinois Press, 1990; U.S. Census 1920, 1930; Story adapted from an oral history by Hank Fischer, 11-14-05; and the Vermilion Area Archival Society.
Original text appeared in the Vermilion (Ohio) Photojournal on 11-18-06.}

11/12/06
2:29 PM

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© 2006 Rich Tarrant