On any given day in the Village, you might catch sight of two kids pedaling down Glass or Main Street — eyes set, legs churning, fishing pole jutting from a backpack — headed for the Suncook Bridge to drop a line, as us anglers say.
I don’t know why that sight hits me the way it does, but it does every time. There’s real joy in watching a passion — a real sport — go uncoached, unsupervised, self‑equipped and mostly self‑taught. The simple act of tossing a line in the water after school — waiting, teasing, waiting again — needs no coaching, no marching band, no concussions. All that noise would ruin the whole deal.
Big Jim is down there lurking under the bridge, like a midfielder shielding the ball, but
he’s no fool. One hint of nonsense and he’s gone. But when Jim hits, the fight is on, and
that kid on the other end of the pole feels like he’s driving through a 200‑pound
offensive lineman under the lights at Pembroke Academy with the crowd humming.
Maybe that’s why my business partner, The Stash, and I are always looking for the next
thing in the Village. To say we believe in businesses like Shirley’s, Scoops, Vintage and
every shop that followed the pioneers of this new era — Oddball Brewery, gone too
soon — would be an understatement. I don’t know what my life would be like without
these Villagers, this place, the newbies and the old cranks.
So, when we saw Fiddlehead Crafts across from Pembroke City Limits sporting a FOR RENT sign, we kicked ideas around for maybe five minutes. The Stash said, “Let’s go with a bait and tackle shop. We love these kids and their fish poles down here. Let’s do it.” It was either that or a vintage clothing store, but my old boots aren’t selling in our record store.
So, we ditched that idea.
And just like that, we decided to open a new business — our third in the Village — while I was still 76 days out of work. Why not? I got 660 on my SATs. Let that sink in.
“Village Bait and Tackle.” Simple enough. Live bait, minnows and shiners, lures and reels — all the basics. God, I hope basic. I haven’t fished since I caught a pickerel on the Cape in the mid ’80s. The Stash says he was a serious fisherman in his earlier life. I don’t know what he was fishing for — Zima’s or wine coolers — but thankfully we’ve got our regular patron‑anglers at PCL: Jason, Jason, and probably another Jason somewhere who knows these waters cold. I cornered them all in the bar soon after signing the lease.
“We need you,” I told them. “The children need you. The Icemen need you.”
With that, we plan on opening Vintage Bait and Tackle in the late fall, after we set up the shiner tubs and get our merchandise wall lined with wigglers, leads, hooks, and spinners. The fridge will be packed with butter tubs of worms. Ice fishing season will be here in a blink, but that should give us plenty of time to study up on the Art of Fishing — and what it takes to make it in the tackle business.
Clueless again, but here we are, forging ahead with our rods blazing, our pockets emptying and one message for Big Jim: We’re coming for you.
Rob Azevedo can be reached at onemanmanch@gmail.com.