Charles Frazee Murphy

[tkerr7735]

The topic on the Romlyn rods in the other forum took a turn toward Charles Murphy. There's nobody that I enjoy reading about more than Murphy. He was definitely larger than life. I thought it might be interesting to see how much historical information about him that we can consolidate. Charlie has been on a tear this week and has found 4-5 new items. I personally enjoy my antique rods a lot more after I get the "know" the guy that helped to invent them.

I'll start with a few old articles. There's a fair amount of repetition, but these are unedited. The first is the chapter that Fred Mather wrote about Murphy in his 1901 book My Angling Friends.

Charles F. Murphy
by Fred Mather

    Mr. Murphy was the maker of the first split-bamboo rod. Like the late William Mitchell he was one of the old-time rod makers who did all the work by hand. They sawed the ash, hickory or lancewood into strips, hung it by one end to prevent warping while seasoning, and then with plane, rasp and sandpaper would turn out the best rods that could be had in those years, which lie almost half a century behind us. These men had great reputations for excellent rods, and their customers extolled them as masters of cunning work. These were the days that a split-bamboo rod could not be bought for a dollar and then prove to be far inferior to an alder pole cut on the bank.
    I remember first meeting Murphy in 1865, in Conroy’s, on Fulton street, then a place where anglers most did congregate, and then for the first time hearing that there was a better material for rods than ash and lancewood. I listened with wonder as to the talk of angles, tapers, gluing and other details, until I thought that the building up of a split-bamboo rod required more careful attention than the grinding of a lens for a great telescope, and I looked with admiration on a man who could make one with a good, even action. A wooden rod is worked down from the outside, tested, sandpapered here and there to get the proper curve under a strain, and that ends it. But the split-bamboo, which our trans-Atlantic friends call a “built cane rod,” must be so worked from the inside of each of its strips that it will be perfect after they are joined, for there can be no taking down of the outside enamel, where the strength and resiliency lie. In factories the tips and second joints can be culled over until a perfect rod is found, but as to a single hand-made rod I can’t understand how one can be made perfect unless with elaborate tests of each strip in each joint, which seems nearly impossible.
    One September day, while I was snipe shooting on the Hackensack meadows with George Gelson, who was an old man then, we came across Murphy with a good bag - for birds were plenty in those days; but he was in distress, having stepped into a hole, and in falling he caught the spring of his shot pouch and lost all his shot. From my knowledge of him afterward he seemed to be unfortunate in usually meeting with an accident of some kind, but we helped him a little from our pouches and he turned toward home, getting an occasional shot as long as we could see him. Before he left us he asked me to fish for striped bass with him next day at Bergen Point, above Staten Island - a thing I had long wanted to do. “Never mind bringing bait or tackle; I’ll have plenty.”
    “You’ll have a good time with Murphy,” said Gelson. “He is one of the few men that I would divide shot with when out for a day; but Murphy would do the same for a friend. You’ll find him good company and well informed not only about field sports, but other sports. He knows all the prominent volunteer firemen in New York, and used to run with the machine himself until the new system came in. He’s a good fisherman and a fair shot, a little given to brag of his exploits and to think that no man can equal him. If this kind of talk does not weary you, a day with him will be well spent.”
    This was a fair sketch of Murphy, as I afterward learned, and one always likes to know something of the man who is going to be his companion for a day or more. This talk was held at our nooning, which was a long one, for our dogs were very tired from working in the long, coarse grass, and we were in the same condition; but shooting later in the day was not as good as in the morning, and we had a little shot left when we reached the ferry, so that our playing the Good Samaritan had not put us to any inconvenience.
    In the morning we met to fish the mouth of Newark Bay and the Kills, where they enter New York Bay. It was a new kind of fishing to me, and I looked over the baits and tackle with much interest. He had the saltwater sand worms and white worms, clams and shedder crabs, short rods, reels, and sinkers to suit the strength of the tide at different times. The tide was right-he had looked out for that-and was at half ebb. We anchored the boat at both ends across the channel, and fished. The tide was strong, and we used sinkers of 3 oz. at first, with about 2 ft. of line and a 2-0 sproat hook below it. We started in with white worms, and I took a sea bass of about a pound weight, but I was unaccustomed to reeling up a heavy sinker the fish seemed to be a monster until brought to boat. Murphy took several white perch, and some came to my hook, and so we fished for over an hour, when he said: “The striped bass don’t seem to be running on this tide; let’s try shedders and see if weakfish will take hold.” And we did, with great success.
    Within a month an angler living in Wisconsin wrote me, asking where he could get shedder crab, as he had heard they were a good bait, and I will leave Murphy in the boat for awhile to say: The crab of salt water is very unlike the crawfish of fresh water, although where Germans had settled the latter are called “crabs”-German, “krebs.” Both are edible, and, like crustaceans, must shed their shells in order to grow. Then they are soft, but harden in a few days, and in this state the salt-water crabs bring a high price as a table delicacy, being fried and eaten paper shells and all, except the “sand bag,” or stomach, and the gills. But a few days before the shell is cast the animal shrinks, and there is a space between it and the shell which can be detected by tapping it. This is a “shedder,” and the outer shell can be peeled off, leaving a very tempting bait for most fishes. No doubt the crawfish would be as tempting to fresh-water fishes if it could be found in that state. After this bit of crabology we will rejoin Murphy in the boat off Bergen Point.
    Said he: “We usually get striped bass here on the last of the ebb tide, but they don’t seem to come our way this morning. The weakfish are biting well, but I don’t care for them.
    “They’re gamy fighters,” I remarked as I boated a yellow fin of about 6 lbs. “I don’t know anything about big striped bass, although in boyhood fishing we used to get them about Albany up to 1 lb.; but this weakfish fights well and I’m enjoying taking them.”
    “Yes,” said he; “that is their redeeming quality. They are a fair fish for the table when just out of the water, but after being caught six hours are only fit to feed to the hogs. Tons of them are sold in the markets to people who don’t know one fish from another, and they are good enough for them. The tide is slackening and we will change to lighter sinkers, sand worms and clams, and take what comes until after low-water slack and the tide sets up the Bay, when we may strike better luck.”
    As I was only a student, I accepted the suggestion of my teacher without question, and for an hour we took perch, porgies and flounders as fast as we could attend to their surgical needs in the way of extracting hooks from lips, cheeks, jawbones and stomachs. Then came the time when the fishermen felt the need of the bait that Murphy had in the basket, and it was both good and generous.
    “While we eat,” said my companion, “let’s take in our lines and not leave them out for any fool fish to hook himself while we’re not fishing.” That remark has been embalmed in my memory like a fly in amber. It comes up whenever I read of “fish hogs” and of those who would not like to be placed in that class, but who never cease killing as long as there is anything to kill. Please remember that this was thirty years ago, or more, and there was little or no sentiment toward the preservation of game or the restriction of the number of fish a man might kill, especially is salt water, where the supply was supposed to be inexhaustible. Yet, Charley Murphy was one of that class which composed the old Volunteer Fire Department that in those days “would rather fight than eat.” He was a small, wiry man, and I have already related his pugilistic exploit in “cleaning up” a fistic terror.
    As low-water slack passed and the faint flood appeared we changed our positions to the upper side, and before the half-flood had passed we had six striped bass which aggregated 35 lbs., the largest weighing 9 lbs., besides all the other fish which Murphy took along to give away, and I voted the striped bass to be the gamiest salt-water fish which had ever tackled my tackle. Murphy wanted to divide the fish, and I had hard work to make him understand that I could not use them in New York City.
    At this time I think Murphy must have been about forty-five years old, while I was about a dozen years younger. He was small and thin; one of those tough, wiry men who can often stand more physical strain than a muscular one; and that day as we sat in the boat he chatted in a reminiscent way about old times in New York and the old fire ladies.
    “Ever hear of Bill Poole?” he asked.
    “Yes; Lew Baker killed him ten years ago on Broadway, corner of Prince street. I was in the West then, but I read all about the affair and how George Law loaned his clipper Grapeshot and captured Baker off the coat of Africa.”
    “You’re right,” said he. “It was in 1855, and few things have ever stirred the city like that. It was in the good old ‘Native American’ days, and Poole was killed because he belonged to that party and John Morrisey couldn’t whip him. I was in the room when he was shot in the Stanwix Hall, opposite Niblo’s Garden, and when I saw Morrisey, Jim Turner, McLaughlin and Baker come in and find Poole alone I knew there would be trouble; but I didn’t get out quick enough. I escaped being called at the trial, but it made no difference, for Baker was acquitted and appointed to a good office in the Street Department, while Morrisey went to Congress. But it would have done any American good to see the funeral that Bill Poole had. The City Hall flag was half-masted, and 10,000 men marched to his funeral. That was the last of the Order of United Americans; the foreign element became too strong and has been so ever since. The new paid Fire Department may turn out all right, but they will never have the pride and spirit in their work as the volunteers did.”
There was much more of this, but the above will serve to show Murphy’s trend of thought and give a mental as well as a physical picture of the man. I met him in New York about as often as I visited the city, but fished no more with him until the day when Frank Sauerthwaite and I found him at Greenwood Lake, curled up in agony in the road from an overindulgence in buttermilk, as has been related. Notwithstanding all Frank’s attempts to switch off Murph, as he called him, I got the story of the building of the first complete split-bamboo rod, and took notes of it. The man who made the first one should be credited with it, especially as he did not patent this great improvement. Young anglers of to-day may never have thought how recent this invention is, nor what an improvement on rod making Dame Juliana Berners would have thought it. But let Murphy tell the story.
    “Ever since I can remember, the Southern cane poles have been shipped up here for fishing purposes, and they are light, cheap and far ahead of anything that can be cut in Northern woods when a man starts without a rod. They seldom exceed a foot between the leaf joints and are of no use to a rod maker, but often one can get quite a good one with an even curve and fair action, but unless kept in a cellar, or other damp place, it is no good the next season, becoming brittle and losing its elasticity.
“In 1848 Sam Phillippi, a gunsmith at Easton, Pa., got hold of some Calcutta bamboo, used and sold some for fishing rods in the natural state. This cane was long, slim and tapered, with greater distance between the leaf joints, which, you know, show elevated rings on the outside and have a diaphragm across the hollow. Haven’t you cut into them and seen this?”
“Yes; and made fifes from the joints in boyhood days leaving one end with its natural stop.”
“Well, Sam Phillippi wanted a joint rod, so he fitted ferrules and made his tip and second joint of the Calcutta bamboo and the butt of some other wood, but he never split the cane as we do now. I saw one of his rods, which had an ash butt, and I tested the spring of the rod and liked it. I showed the rod to Mr. E. A. Green, of Newark, and he got some Calcutta bamboo and made a rod of three pieces for his own use, of carefully selected material and it was an extra good rod for its day. Then wee talked the matter over. Says I, ‘These is a lot of waste material in that rod, and the joints in the cane are no good;’ and so it came about that I split the cane, only into four parts at first, shaved down the pulpy inside and glued the pieces together, and had a rod that was springy enough to cast a fly and had the backbone to fight a salmon.
    “When was this?”
    “It was in 1863. I soon found that four strips left too much pulp on the inside-for the strength is all in the enamel-and I made rods of six and eight strips. The latter are too small to work accurately, but the six-strip was received with favor by such anglers as Frank Endicott, Genio C. Scott, Robert B. Roosevelt, and others. Two years later I made a salmon rod and Mr. Andrew Clerk took it to Scotland, where it attracted much attention. Mr. Clerk gave this rod to Genio C. Scott, who took it up to the St. Lawrence River and killed some big pike and muscalonge with it, and wrote it up in the sportsmen’s papers of the day, which gave the new make of rod great popularity. Then, in 1866, I made a split-bamboo bait-rod for black bass, and arranged with the firm of Andrew Clerk & Co. to sell my rods, which they did for some years, and then they began to make them on a larger scale.”
    That is the history of this now famous rod as I heard it from the man who first devised it. I am not aware that it has ever been published before, although I have seen references to the work of Messrs. Green and Murphy. In the early days the rods were known as “rent and glued bamboo.”
    “Murphy,” said I, “what price did these rods bring in that early day?”
    “Well, the trout rods sold for $40, and for an 18 ft. salmon rod I got as high as $125; but it was all hand work, careful measurements and tests from start to finish, with much labor and material that was rejected. And please remember that every rod was made to order. There was no making up a lot, and fitting tips to second joints. If there was a fault in a joint a new one had to be made. Though prices were high, we earned every dollar we got; but there were a few men in those days who wanted the best that could be had, and would pay for it. If that had not been the case, the split-bamboo would never have been invented.”
Greenwood Lake contains both species of black bass, and at the time we were there, some sixteen or more years ago, and perhaps now, the big mouth was known by the absurd name of “Oswego” bass, and only the small mouth was called black bass; and it seems to me that the time has come to take the obnoxious name of Oswego bass from the statute books of the State of New York. If any other State uses this name in its laws, I am not aware of it. For years, I have contended against the fashion of deprecating the game qualities of the big mouth, and as Murphy and Sauerthwaite sat fishing with me the question came up concerning the respective fighting qualities of the two black basses.
     Sauerthwaite said, “Bill, our landlord, and the boatmen of this lake say that the small mouth is the gamiest of the two, and, by the way, you must have noticed how they have corrupted Oswego into ‘swago,’ and talk about ‘black bass and swagos,’ and they say the ‘swagos’ don’t fight like the black bass. I don’t fish a great deal, and have taken their words for it, and you are the first man that I have heard deny that the big mouth was an inferior fish.”
    “Frank,” said I, “years ago when American anglers began to think for themselves, and to study their own fishes and break away from British angling books, which treated only of English fishes, they found they had some fighting fish which were unknown across the water, but were plagued with a confusion of names. De Key, in 1842, made many species and several genera of the black basses, but later Gill reduced them all to two, and then came some anglers’ distinctions. Seth Green, then a newspaper authority on fishes, gave to our laws such names as Oswego bass, California trout, mountain trout, and German trout, according to the locality in which he caught the fish or from which it happened to come, and it has taken years to undo this work. My old friend, Alexander Mosely, editor of the Richmond Whig, gave to the big mouth the epithet of ‘vulgarian,’ and it was thought necessary to denounce other good game fish in order to boost another into place.”
    “Well, now,” said Murphy, “I never gave this matter much thought, but I’ve had good sport with the big mouth bass, and I’ll tell you one thing: if they are not quite as full of fight – mind me, I don’t say they ain’t – I’ve found them more reliable as risers to the fly. The big mouth will usually take a fly of some kind if presented properly, and if the wind, sun and water are not in conspiracy against the fisherman, but the small mouth will often refuse the fly when his brother will rise to it.”
    This talk was at 4 P. M., and we were casting with different flies in order to see what the bass might prefer in the way of tinsel, wool, fur, chenille and feather, when Murphy got a rise, and as he struck there was a lively fight on. Satterwaite got excited, and not being an expert angler gave Murphy a running lot of advice, to which, no attention was paid by the man who was fighting the fish. Murphy kept the bass out of the weeds, could not prevent its running under the boat. Fortunately, there was no anchor line to foul, and he shifted his rod to the other side, reeled in and gave line as he thought best, without regard to Frank’s suggestions, and finally reeled the fish up to the side of the boat, which was well down, because three men were on one side of the keelson; and just as I put the landing-net into the water to lift the game it gave a final leap and landed itself in the boat. It was a big mouth black bass of less than 3 lbs.
    “I thought it was a 10-pounder,” said Murphy. “I took a 7 lb bass in this lake once that did not put up half the fight this one did.”
    “That carries my theory,” said I, “that the fighting weight of a black bass, no matter what the size of its mouth may be, is about 2 lbs. Murphy, you know, as an all-round ‘sport,’ that no human pugilist would think of entering the ring if he weighed more than 190 lbs., and, therefore, dead weight is not an indication of staying power. It’s only an indication of good living and an accumulation of fat.”
    “There seems to be some sense in that, Frank,” said Murphy; “but I never thought of comparing the physical condition of men with that of fish, as Fred has done, but the point is a good one. Yankee Sullivan said thirty years ago that a man of 160 lbs. Was fit to fight anything on two legs, and perhaps a black bass of 2 lbs. Is in his best fighting condition. That’s a new proposition. What do you think, Frank”
    “I think that you have got it about right. Sometimes a small bass will make you think he’s a big one before he comes to the boat, and that 5-pounder of mine didn’t fight very hard; in fact, I didn’t think it was a big one until I saw it.”
    And so we passed the time in pleasant discourse on the merits of the basses until time to reel up and row to Bill’s hotel. When we parted with Bill we did not weep; but Murphy said on the train: “Every time I stop with Bill I declare that it will never occur again, but somehow I forget his meanness or I forgive it; I don’t know which.”
    Charles F. Murphy was one of a class of the old-time all-round sportsmen interested in almost everything that is included in that comprehensive and elastic term of sport. With no outward polish, brought up among the fire ladies, where the only qualities recognized in a man were honesty, pluck and muscle, he was an entertaining companion. He died at his home in Newark, N. J., in 1883 [tk: 1887 in truth], at the age of sixty-five.

[tkerr7735]

FISH-POLES AND FISHING

THE FIRST PERFECT SPLIT BAMBOO ROD.

STORIES TOLD BY AN OLD ANGLER AND NIMROD –
SPORT THAT ONCE WAS TO BE FOUND WHERE THE
CITY OF NEWARK NOW STANDS.

    Charles F. Murphy, a veteran angler and hunter in Newark, N. J., made the first perfect split bamboo fishing-rod for the trade, but to Sam Phillippi, of Easton, Penn., belongs the honor of discovering the utility of the Calcutta bamboo cane for fishing rods. Phillippi began using the material in 1848, and subsequently he made the first and second joints of his rods of bamboo and the butt of ash, hickory, or lance-wood, but he never perfected a split bamboo rod, such as is now the pride of anglers.
    In 1860, E. A. Green, of Newark, made a fine bamboo rod for his own use, and in 1863 Mr. Murphy turned out the first split bamboo rod for trout-fishing. It possessed the requisite toughness, lightness, and elasticity for casting an anchorless fly-line a distance of from 60 to 90 feet – a feat that could not be performed with rods made of ash, hickory, or lance-wood – and therefore it soon became popular. In 1865 Mr. Murphy made the first split bamboo salmon rod, and Dr. Andrew Clerk, of New-York, took it to Scotland, where it was highly prized by lovers of piscatorial sport. It was afterward used on the St. Lawrence River by Lewis C. Scott, and his account of its adaptability gave it a widespread popularity. In 1866 Mr. Murphy gave to the trade the first split bamboo rod for black bass fishing, and for a number of years Andrew Clerk and Co., of Maiden-lane, New-York, sold all the different varieties of rods he manufactured.
    The regulation length of the trout rods ranges, Mr. Murphy says, from 10 ½ to 12 feet, black bass rods from 8 ½ to 10 ½ feet, and salmon rods from 15 to 20 feet. This first trout rods he made sold for $40, black bass rods for $50, and salmon rods for as high as $125. Now the trout rods sell for $25, the black bass rods for $35, and the salmon rods for $50. Mahogany or rosewood cases, double rods, extra reels, &c., increase the cost of an outfit to double these figures.
    Mr. Murphy makes rods for private customers in Chicago, San Francisco, New-York, Salt Lake City, and the principal cities of the South. The rods have from three to four joints or sections, and are made of six narrow strips of the bamboo cane glued together and bound at intervals of one inch with the finest and strongest silk thread. Mr. Murphy’s workshop is a small room in his residence. He says that persons who know the least about fishing order the most expensive rods and cases, and some wealthy young men buy rods merely because it is fashionable in their set, for very few of the modern youth have nerve enough to whip a stream for several hours in the sun and the company of millions of mosquitoes.
    “Fishing ain’t what it used to be when I was a youngster,” said Mr. Murphy, who has a penchant for relating his fishing and hunting experiences, “for the fish are scarce nowadays, and men are too lazy to tramp a dozen miles or more whipping streams. A 10 or 15 mile tramp after brook trout on a Sunday morning was an appetizer for me before breakfast, and I always brought home a basket heaped up with fine trout. I used to take a gun along and shoot enough game for dinner. Snipe, woodcock, and rabbit were as thick as hops right here in Newark, and I’ve seen flocks of wild ducks and geese cover the ground back of the City Hall. I’ve caught trout and perch and shot game where St. Patrick’s Cathedral and the finest brown-stone residences now stand. School-boys used to scoop up hatfuls of fish during dinner hour, and the sky was darkened every day by the flocks of wild pigeons that flew to the trees on the Commons, now Military Park.
    “Forty years ago I shot snipe and squirrels a hundred yards below City Hall, and wild pigeons were as thick as mosquitoes. I’ve caught eels and bullheads in a pond opposite St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and when the pond was afterward pumped dry the fish was carted away by the wagon-load. After the Morris Canal was cut through I caught streaked bass, sunfish, catfish, and suckers at the foot of the inclined plane, and it was there I caught alive the first brook trout I ever saw. In the “deep lock” at River Street I’ve seen suckers and perch and pickerel so thick that the boats would crush them like jelly, and the boatmen scooped them up by the bushel. On their great clumsy push poles the boatmen would tie a loop, rig an old bag on the hoop, and then scoop up the fish. Why in those days nobody ever thought of buying fish or game. Little boys carried home baskets of the best fish, and men would go out with a shot-gun and return in an hour with a score of partridges, quail, or rabbits. We will never see those good old days again, and I’m sorry for it, for men were happier and more truthful then than they are now.
    “I’ve whipped the brooks up at Great Notch and along the west side of the Orange Mountains for trout, and have caught many a hundred beauties there and up in Morris, Bergen, and Passaic Counties. Bass and perch were plentiful in Branch Brook, Mill Brook, Saw Mill Creek, which runs into the Hackensack River near Snake Hill, in Hudson County, and Billy Kingsland’s Creek, which empties into the Passaic River at the New-York and Lake Erie bridge. Some of these creeks are good fishing streams yet. Berry’s Creek, near Carlstadt, is a good spot for perch. One morning I started for Penhorn Creek for a mess of fish for breakfast. Near the Bergen Hills I met my cousin and his friend, and then we tramped to Carlstadt, whipping all the streams on our way. We caught with hook and line that Sunday 564 perch in Berry’s Creek, besides a couple hundred bass. Jeroleman’s Brook, opposite Rutherford Park, is good for whipping yet, but fish are scarce in the other streams. One day last week I caught only 17 perch after tramping 20 miles. Twenty years ago I crossed the Orange Mountains and hooked 60 trout from five to ten inches length in a couple of hours. There is good fishing up there and at Little Falls now, and, in fact, scores of fishermen are successful all along the Passaic River above Paterson every Sunday, and they will haunt the place for six weeks yet. Bill Darrah, old man Finck, Jake Vanderbilt, and Henry William Herbert, who wrote about American sport over the name of ‘Frank Forester,’ often went with me to hunt and fish, and we’ve many a time caught 100 trout apiece in a day.
    “Thirty years ago the Passaic River and the Newark Bay were famous fishing-grounds. Old Bill Darrah caught as many as 600 sturgeon in the river in one day, and I’ve seen a sturgeon four feet long spring out of the water and fall back again with a splash like that made by a man in diving. Smelts were so thick in the river that folks wouldn’t take them home, and shad could be got for a song. Fishermen who used nets gave the smelts and suckers away, or threw them back in the river. The water was so clear that you could see thousands of bass, perch, pickerel, sunfish, catfish, suckers, salmon, and smelts on the bottom of the river. Why, I’ve seen enough fish swimming on the bottom of the river to feed all New-York for a month. Now there ain’t enough fish of any kind in the river to supply a camp-meeting crowd. The water has been poisoned by acids from factories along the banks.
    “I was about 8 years old when I first saw shad caught in the river. One day some men took me out in the General Jackson, a green-painted skiff owned by Dickey Johnson, an old fisherman who caught shad and bass for the rich New-York folks. The men took a wagon-load of shad in an hour, and they dumped the smelts, pickerel, and suckers back into the river. In after years we used clams for bait in catching streaked bass, which gathered in droves at the old clam dock, where Charlie Baldwin and Sam Sipp made big hauls. Now the bass won’t bite a clam bait. I can’t tell why they don’t, but it’s a fact that they do not. At Joe Budd’s fish haul, near where the Centre Street bridge now is, 600 shad were caught by the fishermen in one haul many a time. The owner of the boat got two-fifths, the boat one-fifth, and the helpers the remainder. Twenty years ago Bill Douglass and Bill Finck gave me 10 quarts of selected smelts for a quarter and the largest shad for 8 cents apiece. At that time, me and Jack Coles, Jack Squire, and Rube Edwards hooked 284 weak-fish, 40 herring, 72 perch, and 127 bass in four hours – two at ebb and two at flood tide. That was fair work with hook and line. A week ago I spent an entire day at Snake Hill and caught only 26 perch and bass. In old times Bill Anderson, Steve Cisco, Chandler Dodd, Jack Coles, Bill Darrah, Rube Edwards, Jack Squires, Sam Willis, Joe Budd, the Richards, and the Fincks were the best-known fishermen around Newark and New-York. They all had rich customers in New-York who took their finest fish at high prices. Sam Willis, who is over 70 years old, lives in his skiff all the year round. One of the most famous anglers on the river was old man Finck, who lived on the river side, near Belleville. He always fished in one place after he was 80 years old, and that spot was called Finck’s hole. One morning the old man’s boat was found anchored over the hole, and when the anchor was pulled in his dead body came up. He had drowned himself by tying the anchor to his feet to keep him under water. Ever since that time no fish have ever been caught in that place.
    “Henry William Herbert was a splendid fisherman and a crack shot, and when he was sober, which was seldom, he was a gentleman. He was a powerful, fearless, and reckless man, overbearing and insulting, and I never liked the man. And yet he always came after me when he wanted to go fishing or hunting. We tramped all over New-Jersey together after fish and game. He was half drunk all the time he was out on the river or in the woods, but he knew what sport was. On the river or bay, or up beyond the Orange Mountains, he was friendly with fishermen and hunters; but at the Park House in this city, or the Astor House, in New-York, he would not recognize them. He used to say that he would write a novel about Seal Harris, the old hunter, who was lost in Burt’s Pond, which was where the Market Street depot of the Pennsylvania Railroad now is. Although great factories and the railroad track are there now, the place was once a treacherous swamp, where game gathered in large numbers. Seal would not keep away from the swamp, and one day he pushed his way among the alder and swamp grass after snipe. Several days afterward he was found buried standing 10 feet deep in the quagmire. He held his gun as if he had been in the act of firing at a bird when he sank in the treacherous swamp. Some years afterward the swamp was filled in with dirt and logs, but the filling all sank out of sight one rainy evening. There are no traces of the swamp now, and over 100 railroad trains run over it every day. Henry William Herbert never wrote the novel, for he committed suicide in New-York. He was a queer man, but he was very fond of fishing and hunting. If he was alive now he would not stay in these parts because the fish and game are gone. Along our streams the fisherman has to ‘wait for a bite from day to day,’ and he needs great patience, for he may whip a stream all day and not catch a fish. It is the same about New-York. I’ve whipped every stream within a circuit of 100 miles of New-York, and I know that the better quality of fish are scarce, even in the mountain lakes.”

[tkerr7735]

One of Murphy favorite fishing places was the Passaic River near his home in Newark, NJ. Ironically,

[cwfly]

Charles Murphy’s father was John D. Murphy, a gentleman born in New York in 1791. By trade father Murphy was a shoemaker and “corn doctor,” presumably fixing corns caused by competitors’ shoes.
Charles Murphy’s mother was Mary Frazee, a New Jersey native, born in 1804. John D. Murphy and Mary Frazee were married in Essex County (Newark is in Essex County) on 6 Dec. 1824.
The 1850 census has the family firmly in Newark. Older brother John (28) was a seaman. The others, all of whom had no occupation listed were Charles (24), Sarah (22) and little Anna (4).
By 1860, Charles Murphy was married to Angeline (sometimes spelled Angelina) and the couple had a four year old son named for his father. The census lists no occupation.
But the next interesting detail appears when Charles F. Murphy registered for the Civil War draft in 1863. His occupation is listed as “armorer,” a person who works with firearms at an armory – and Newark had one. This would make Murphy another one of those fellows who started with gunsmithing skills and moved into rod making. As we will later see, one of his sons moved in the opposite direction.


And I think the son who drowned was Frederick.

[cwfly]

Charles Murphy was well known, as an angler, shot and rod maker.
The New York Times[/i] article that Tom posted above appeared on 11 Dec. 1881. Earlier in June of the same year The multi-day New York Sportsmen’s Convention was in held at Brighton Beach. The New York Herald[/i] of 24 June 1881 duly reported the competition (shooting and casting) in detail.
The article, quoted here in part, read:
THE SALMON FLY CASTING
“The casting in the salmon fly contest commenced
at eleven o'clock, in the presence of a large attendance,
many of the most noted fishermen of the
country being present, While the final preparations
were being made the party was treated accidentally
to two doses of shot from the gun of an outside
shooter, and, after the marksman was handed over to
the tender mercies of a policeman and the blood wiped
off the programme proceeded without further interruptions.
Mr. Mather was promptly on hand
and directed the sport with great satisfaction to all,
and his appointment of referees and judges was considered
most excellent. The following named gentlemen
served:—Referee, Mr. James Geddes,
of Syracuse; and for judges, Mr. Lucius
Meade, of Marsalla, N. Y.; Mr. Eugene
G. Blackford, of New York city, and Mr. Charles F.
Murphy, of Newark. N. J.”
Rueben Wood was the winner using a 17’ 1” Leonard rod that he had won in Buffalo in 1878. Ira Wood was second, using the same rod.

[cwfly]

Charles F. Murphy did indeed have a widespread reputation. In addition to the Mather Forest[/i] and Stream[/i] obituary that Tom has posted, his death on 15 Dec. 1887 was reported in The Sun[/i] (New York) on 17 Dec. 1887.  That obituary read:
“NOTED ANGLER MURPHY DEAD
____________
 
A Noted Maker of Split Bamboo Rods -
Some of His feats of Strength
Charles F. Murphy, a noted maker of split bamboo fishing
rods, and said to be the originator of the plan, died
in Newark on Thursday night, age 62 years. Mr. Murphy
was well known in this city as well as throughout New Jersey.
He was a great sportsman and an expert angler. His rods are
famous in England and Canada as well as in this country.
He died of gastritis, after an illness of a month. Two years
ago Fish Commissioner William Wright procured for Mr. Murphy
the office of Fish Warden for Essex County. In his youth he was
known as the strongest man for his size in New Jersey. . . .
He will be buried with Masonic Honors on Tuesday afternoon.”
One thing to be gleaned from this obituary is that there be examples of Murphy rods to be found outside the United States.
And many, if not all of the articles about Murphy noted that he never worked with assistants. I’ll take a look at that assumption next. In fact I’ll challenge it.

[cwfly]

The question I address in the following is not whether Charles Murphy was the first to make a hex split bamboo rod but rather whether the Murphy rod disappeared with his death in December 1887 and whether he had some help in his shop before he died. The information I have about this question is gleaned from Newark City directories.
The 1887 city directory (said to accurate as of 1 May) lists Murphy – as we know – as a fishing rod maker at 76 Burnet Street. No other Murphy is listed for that address which is not unusual for a family. His son Joseph at this time was either 19 or 20 years of age, coincidentally about the same age as Jim Payne when his father died.



So next we look at the directory for 1888-89 to see what happened to Murphy’s widow Angeline. Here we find she is duly recorded as the widow and[/b] we now find a new business, “Charles Murphy’s Sons” at 76 Burnet where the widow lives.




Who works there, you ask? Flip the page and we find son, Joseph.




So far we don’t know what the business is. However, subsequent directories may, if we keep looking, tell us.  The 1890 directory has Mrs. Murphy and Joseph in the “fishing tackle” business.




What kind of tackle, you ask? I’ll get to that shortly.

[cwfly]

By 1893 the family business has become more specific as the directory listing discloses. Mrs. Murphy and son Joseph F. Murphy are living at 204 3rd Street. But now the business and son Joseph are working at 740 Broad Street and the business is, like that of the late Charles Frazee Murphy,  the manufacture of fishing rods under the name C. F. Murphy’s Son.





In 1894 Joseph now has his own subscriber listing under “Fishing Tackle” as a maker of fishing rods.






So, did Joseph work with his father, at least in the later years, and continue the craft after his death? It seems likely to me. Finally, I lost sight of Joseph for a few years but I can say that by the census of 1920 he had returned to what I believe to have been his father’s roots. His occupation was as a gunsmith.

[cwfly]

I could never begin to figure out how to edit any of the above so indulge me while I add this.
The business after C.F.Murphy's death seems to have always been making rods. A further examination of the
directory for the year immediately following his December 1887 death shows the following.

[cwfly]

Perhaps there is not a great deal of interest in Mr. Charles F. Murphy, the man who may have made the first hexagonal split bamboo rod but I’ll  add some early Murphy.
In Tom’s first post on this thread, the Mather chapter about Murphy, a man he had first met at Clerk’s in 1865, Murphy is quoted as saying:
“Then, in 1866, I made a split-bamboo bait-rod for black bass, and arranged with the firm of Andrew Clerk & Co. to sell my rods, which they did for some years, and then they began to make them on a larger scale.”
Here is an 1866 Andrew Clerk & Co. advertisement.
 

 


The text, in part, notes, “We invite especial attention to our EXCELSIOR FLY ROD, made from the outside shell of the Calcutta Bamboo….”
Dear readers, do you believe the Excelsior is the rod made by C. F. Murphy?

[wrong66]

Charlie,
      I don't know about anyone else, but I find the man fascinating. It's hard to believe a rodmaker of such historical importance could almost pass into history, his name virtually lost in obscurity for over 100 years. Incredible. I'd love to hear more.   Mark

[ewp313]

Charlie, A nice gleaning of available historic documents and  facts, makes it look like the possibility that his son might have carried on the rod making business. Do you know what may have happened to that business, was it sold, absorbed, lost, abandoned, or what?'As through historic examination of other rod makers timelines have shown many factors associated with our dynamic economy, partnerships or corporate issues have effected both the quality and quantity of the rod, making or breaking the names and fortunes of all involved.  Do you think the son continued to make rods and the business survived under a different name? Great information.  Ed

[tkerr7735]

This particular rod is marked as "C.F. Murphy | Newark, NJ" in two lines on the reel seat band. It has 6-strip butt and mid with two 4-strip tips. This is estimated as 1863-1865. It has the cup marks mentioned by A.J. Campbell in his book, which I believe it to be possibly a clamping impression from planing. The sections are all 49", but one tip is down 4".

The greenheart tube case is unique. It is a single piece of wood that has been bored almost full length to accommodate the four sections.As a woodworker, I was very impressed by anyone who could bore 49". I was reminded that gunsmiths had been boring barrels for a great many years. The inside of each 49" tube is also lined with red felt cloth. (Anyone care to suggest how you would done that? None of my barrels are lined.)

I bought the rod at a Sotheby's London auction. It was sold as a one tip rod. I accidentally shook the empty case while running up the stairs one day. Heard something rattling. A few minutes later I retrieved the 2nd (short) tip. The cane was not visible; it was buried under red felt fibers embedded in the tip's shellac finish. I was able to remove the felt with denatured alcohol while saving 100% of the original wraps.

Murphy trout rods are usually 11'6" in either 3/2 or 1/2/3 format. The ferrules are 19s and 12s and the tips and mids are interchangeable between the three such rods that I've examined. Not many rod-makers even today could make that statement? The other unique Murphy feature with respect to wraps for the tips - he halved the wrap spacing halfway between the last guide and the tiptops or male ferrules. The mid is wrapped the same way at the female ferrule end. Note also that the reel seat is mortised into the swelled cane (hollow-built) grip. All Murphy rods that I've examined are finished with shellac over red wraps. The wraps are essentially welded to the cane and almost impossible to remove without prying. The same is true of the two Krider rods that I've examined.

[wrong66]

Beautiful rod and holder. Interesting that the intermediate wraps would be doubled by the ferrules, something that Landman would do years later.

[tkerr7735]

Not a coincidence I'm sure. Murphy made the early rods for Clerk & Co, who begat Abbey & Imbrie, who later hired John Landman to make their finest rods. Imitation is the finest form of flattery?

[ewp313]

Tom,
Thanks for sharing your rod and the associated facts. I will probably never see another except in a museum. I hope to own a Landman at some point, looking at the evolution of rod making in this country it is interesting how good ideas and components are shared by all as in other industry's. As a lifetime student of history protecting and preserving these rods and their history is what we are all about. As I looked at this Murphy rod of yours it comes to mind, have you yard tested it? How's the action of rod that old and historic compared to more modern bamboo? No matter how historic if it were mine I would be compelled to test it out. Ed

[cwfly]

Thank you, Tom, for sharing the photographs of that rare
Murphy rod. It made two transatlantic journeys.
As A.J. noted, there is a coincidence in the dates when Murphy
is reported to have retailed rods with Clerk and the appearance
of the advertisements for the Excelsior Split Bamboo. I would not
find it surprising that there do not seem to be rods marked
”Excelsior” since most early rods – Leonard just for example -
did not have a model name stamped on them. This seems to change
with the “Kosmic.” Perhaps there is an earlier example but that one comes
to mind.
Clerk continued to retail the “Excelsior” as the following 1869 ad shows.






Thereafter it becomes somewhat confused since while in 1871 and 1873
Clerk continued to advertise the “Excelsior Rod of Split Bamboo” a competitor
at 50 Fulton Street advertised the “Excelsior Spliced Bamboo Fly Rods” in exactly the same publications and issues.










In thinking of Romeyn’s rod I wonder if Murphy’s son, Joseph had the
father’s complete set of skills or whether he might have taken to using
some Chubb fittings.

[jeffkn1]

Charlie


Excelsior seems not to have been trademarked, given that they showed up in Clerk print as early as January '65, and you could still buy a rod cataloged as the Excelsior from William Mills in the 1920's. Doubtless they were different makers, the earliest ones being pricey and the later ones touted as a good, economically priced model. At $1.00 a pop in the Mills catalog, they certainly were entry level. It may be that once the Murphy/Clerk relationship was severed that Excelsior and it's maker moved down the street, so to speak.

I don't know how else Clerk could have sourced split bamboo fly rods as early as '65 if it wasn't from Murphy, unless it was from Phillippe. But that's a whole 'nother story and that way lies madness.

[tkerr7735]

ewp313,
If this was a rod that I had refinished and rewrapped, I'd be willing to even fish it benign condition - maybe my pool. But, this one is all original in terms of glue, finish and wraps. Except for the de-felted short tip, I haven't yet needed to overcoat it with thinned shellac. Even one cast sounds like a bad idea.

[Gnome]

Tom,
Thanks for sharing your rod and the associated facts. I will probably never see another except in a museum. I hope to own a Landman at some point, looking at the evolution of rod making in this country it is interesting how good ideas and components are shared by all as in other industry's. As a lifetime student of history protecting and preserving these rods and their history is what we are all about. As I looked at this Murphy rod of yours it comes to mind, have you yard tested it? How's the action of rod that old and historic compared to more modern bamboo? No matter how historic if it were mine I would be compelled to test it out. Ed

Ed,

I highlighted a sentence in your post and would like to offer the following to you.

Come to SRG this October and you can see 2 of Murphy's rods (one with the cup marks and the other with the black pinpricks). A pre Newark model and a Newark marked rod. At least one will be taken out of the "GTRS" and wiggled and cast. If you come to the gathering you will also be able to see Landmanns (one of which was featured in A.J.'s book, Classic and Antique Fly Fishing Tackle along with a couple of other rods from A.J.'s collection)  and Kriders and a pair of rods by Hiram L Leonard and they are contained in a one of a kind travelling museum and it covers the evolution of the history of the rod like no other. Come to the gathering and I will give you a personal tour. To me the truly fascinating stuff is the rods that lead to the 6 strip construction. The early wood and bamboo and Baleen composite rods are amazing.

And the Latest addition will be installed in the display and it is a very rare rod. Being only the 5th one ever unearthed. a circa 1850-60 rod by a very early American Maker.

Sorry about the side track here. Awesome stuff from Tom and Charlie!!! Thanks!!!!!!!!!!!!!