The Philbrook and Payne Reel:

Edward Fletcher Payne (1850-1914) was born in South Orrington, Maine. He apprenticed in a local machine shop while still a teenager, working his way up as a skilled machinist to shop foreman in a railroad car manufacturing company. By the mid 1870s, Ed Payne was making metal reel seats and other hardware for the small fishing rod industry that was emerging in Bangor, in a downtown shop listed in the local directories under the name “Paine.” He worked for Hiram Lewis Leonard (1831-1907), acquainting himself with the innovative bamboo work of men like the Hawes brothers of the Leonard shop. Only twenty-six years old, Ed Payne caught the eye of Francis Jerome Philbrook (1840-1930. Philbrook had improved his machining skills with several firms, and by 1875 he listed himself under his name as a “Gunsmith Machinist & Model Maker,” on Exchange Street in Bangor. As with most in that specialized profession his business was seasonal, which led him to look for someone who knew the fishing tackle trade, and who was familiar with the tools needed to make rods, and possibly even reels. Philbrook had an idea for a new single action reel design.

Francis Philbrook took rooms upstairs at 18 Broad in downtown Bangor under the listing of “Philbrook and Payne – Fishing Rod Makers.” His raised pillar reel design incorporated two new features, both having to do with the placement and design of the click mechanism within the frame of the reel. He was granted a patent on June 12, 1877 (No. 191,813), which he immediately sold to Hiram Leonard.i Philbrook had also experimented with a “hot melt” of natural lacquer-like resins, known as “mud,” which was a common decorative marketing tool in that era used by manufacturers of anything from Civil War picture frames, doll heads, toys and games, to ornamental gun cases. ii Philbrook’s “marbled” side plates, a mixture of natural resins, along with orange and black pigments that were ground up, sprinkled into the hot mold, and then stirred slightly, was new to the fishing tackle industry which gave the assembled reels a very distinctive look. The first reels made, all with the orange and black marbling on the side plates as well as the handle knob, were usually stamped “Philbrook & Paine, Makers, Bangor, ME, Pat. Apld. For,” with Ed Payne’s name spelled “Paine.” Once the patent was granted in the summer of 1877, the firm began to make a smaller winch model and a counterbalanced handle version out of a combination of nickel silver and bronze, known to collectors as the “bi-metal” reel, along with the marbleized version, but with the name H. L. Leonard and the patent date stamped on the front plate. They went on to manufacture a small amount of large 4 1/2” diameter salmon reels in both variations. A unique planetary drive version of the bi-metal reel was later envisioned by William Mills & Sons, in only three sizes, two in trout and one salmon model, which was later made for the New York tackle concern in response to a patented design attributed to James D’A Boulton, July 11, 1882. It was a multiplying reel, made heavy by two gears that meshed with a larger circular gear (made by Brown and Sharp in Rhode Island) that was soldered to the inside of the front plate rim.iii The increased friction of the extra set of revolving gears made the spool a chore to turn, which further led the public to reject it as unnecessary, as both versions, especially the large salmon model, are very rare indeed.

The “P & P” partnership lasted until 1885. Payne decided to dedicate himself to rod making, moving to Central Valley, New York that year to work at the Leonard factory as a ferrule maker. The now legendary reels, in much the same configuration, were manufactured by Julius vom Hofe by 1886 in his Brooklyn New York shop until World War II. By 1887, Francis Philbrook had reinvented himself, taking a position with several Bangor firms, most notably Parker and Peakes who were boot and shoe manufacturers as an engineer. In 1901 Philbrook took a mechanical engineering job working for the South American Development Co. who had recently taken over control of the gold mines near Portovelo in southwestern Ecuador. He moved back to Bangor in 1908 where he continued his hobbies as a photographer and an amateur beekeeper. He designed and patented (No. 104,109) an “Improvement in Air Intake Valve for Internal Combustion Engines,” which was granted on April 17, 1917. Finally, he moved to Rockland, Massachusetts for six years where he died in 1930, having just passed his ninetieth birthday. Francis Philbrook and Ed Payne occupy a very special place in the history of reel making. Their innovations, the association with Leonard, and the excellent level of workmanship ordinarily would have been enough to secure their place in angling history.iv But, it is the unique beauty of the orange and black marbled introductory model, and the grace of the long-standing bi-metal version that sets these gentlemen from Bangor, Maine apart. Owning one of their reels is a singular thrill.

Ed Payne Becomes a Rod Maker:

Ed Payne’s real love was rods and rod making. He had made bamboo rods under his own name while working with Philbrook in Bangor, designing and fabricating the nickel silver hardware out of flat stock that was rolled on a mandrel and soldered. His move to Central Valley in 1895, fifty miles north of New York City, reunited him with many of his rod making friends who had seen honorable service with Hiram Leonard in the Bangor shop.v He worked making ferrules, tools, and other metal parts for Leonard, and may well have gotten a peek at the legendary Leonard beveler (a machine used to cut the triangular sections of bamboo), made by Hiram Leonard’s nephew, Loman Hawes.vi But he was making rods of Leonard’s design, not his own. It was not all work however, as Hiram Leonard loved music, and he was reportedly an accomplished flute and violin player. He encouraged members of his rod making team to play a musical instrument in a small band that he formed, which led Ed Payne to dust off his banjo, joining the other rod making musicians in the almost weekly concerts. He was famous for his rendition of “Old Black Joe,” and took the nickname “Joe,” used even by family members for the rest of his life. In 1890, Ed Payne met a local girl from Central Valley at a dance up on Pine Hill, Hannah Thorpe, and they were married (his first marriage was to Helen Norwood, of Brewer, Maine) shortly thereafter. He convinced her to follow him back to Bangor so he could set up his own rod making shop. Payne had also applied for a patent on a reel design in 1889, that had been smoldering in his head, known later as the “improved version” of the Philbrook & Payne–Leonard reel that he had been so instrumental in developing, which was granted (No. 432,764) in 1890. It too was a bi-metal reel, in a salmon size, with a sliding bar that moved within circular groove on the rear plate. When moved from one side of the groove to the other, pressure was put on the inside of the

spool flange, thus applying an early form of adjustable drag on a single action reel. Payne, much like his earlier partner, Francis Philbrook, immediately assigned (sold) the patent to the Thomas B. Mills tackle company in New York City.

Returning to Central Valley after only a year in Maine, Ed Payne found things had changed since his departure. Three of Leonard’s craftsmen, who had been with Leonard from the early days in Bangor, left his employ in 1889 to strike out on their own. The association with William Mills and Company of New York City (the principle reason Leonard left Bangor to begin making rods in the old T. H. Bate rod factory in 1881) may have been good for business, but the pressure to build an increased number of rods for Mills’ eager Chambers Street customers in the late stages of the prosperity of the late 80s was seen by several veteran craftsmen at Leonard as a compromise of the standards that the company had long stood for. Three men went north several miles to Woodbury Falls, starting their own business. The skilled hands of Eustis W. Edwards, Fred Thomas, and Loman Hawes, who for years ran Hiram Leonard’s unique beveling machine, made up the partnership.

The Kosmic Rod Years:

By the winter of 1890, Loman Hawes had designed and built an “improved” version of Leonard’s bamboo-tapering machine, and soon the men began tooling up with the intention of making high quality rods for the trade. Their work caught the eye of one Albert Goodwill Spalding, a fine baseball pitcher with the Chicago White Stockings, who in 1876 started his own sporting goods outlet in Chicago, A. G. Spalding & Bros. By 1889, Spalding’s business was a huge success, yet because he was still not competitive in the lucrative area of fishing tackle, the new startup rod making company, known collectively as Thomas, Edwards, and Hawes, was approached by the Chicago retailer (he had just opened a store in New York) within months of branching out on their own. Spalding agreed to bankroll a rod concept unlike anything seen to date; exotic in design, eye-catching in appearance, with tapers that, for the period, were cutting edge. He made an “exclusive” deal with the trio of makers, calling their output “The Kosmic Rod.” Spalding had the name trademarked by March 1890, and the boys were very much in business.

Their new line of Kosmic rods, well advertised by Spalding at a price of $25, were an immediate triumph. They carried a new, unmistakable, swaged ferrule design, with a waterproofing sleeve (Leonard still had the patent on his soldered water tight ferrule, patented October 26, 1875) made of a newly discovered product called celluloid, or “xylonite,” and a celluloid reel seat filler that had the appearance of ivory. Spalding wanted a complete line of rods, bait, salmon, trout and boat rods, and the boys produced numerous models, some with nickel silver reel seats, yet all at an extremely high level of excellence. For reasons that are still not clear, Loman Hawes decided to leave the company within a year. Some have suggested poor health, but his departure may have been part of the reason that Ed Payne scurried back to the Central Valley-Highland Mills (the homesick Hannah Payne did not like the harsh Down East winters) area from

Bangor. It is clear that Payne fortuitously had many of the machinist skills that also distinguished Loman Hawes, and when he was hired on, the name of the firm then changed to Thomas, Edwards and Payne. It may have been a case of good timing for Ed Payne, for when he moved back to New York State in late 1891, his employment now relatively secure, he built a house on Pine Hill in Highland Mills, in anticipation of a family

Business was booming. The men designed an eye-catching array of finely knurled, distinctive reel seat hardware, with the celluloid filler, and an art nouveau styled logo, all of which gave a fresh look to the Kosmic rod, born of a sense of style and genius. Albert Spalding proudly entered his Kosmic line of rods, some with highly ornate silver and gold fittings, in the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago (the buildings covered over 600 acres), winning the Award of Highest Merit, beating out an impressive line of Leonard rods that were also on exhibit. It is the high point for the Kosmic name, this just weeks after the first ominous signs of trouble in the banking industry in early 1893 due to rampant speculation and the over-building of railroads. It was the beginning of a crippling depression. Soon, few members of the angling public were in a mood to buy expensive fishing rods, and a year later Mr. Spalding, who had had his fun, sold the company to U. S. Net and Twine Co. (which was financed by oil magnate, Charles M. Pratt) that had recently opened a retail store on lower Broadway in New York City, also with a factory in Brooklyn. The new owners insisted that the Kosmic rod shop be relocated to their large Brooklyn facility at the Self-Winding Clock Co.vii Ed Payne’s house was less than 500 yards from the Highland Mills train station, but it remained an arduous trip to Brooklyn for the rod makers who traveled for over two hours each way before they could begin work.viii It would not be many months before the Kosmic Rod Co. would be felled by events.

By the summer of 1895, the peripatetic Eustis Edwards left the now struggling Brooklyn rod-making firm for points west. It was certainly not the time for Ed Payne to run away from responsibility. His first child, Tula Elsie Payne, was born in 1892, and his second, James Arthur Payne was due in February of 1894. Payne needed the work, so he continued to commute to Brooklyn almost every day on a spur of the Erie Railroad to make the Kosmic line, and the less expensive “Walton” models that had been produced almost from the beginning.ix To his credit, Payne rode the train to Brooklyn until well into 1897 when he lost his last original partner, Fred Thomas, who was thankful to be returning to Maine. It was over, and Ed Payne knew it. He too left the daily grind of the train ride to Brooklyn to others, but not before buying the Kosmic Rod Co., and the key piece of machinery, the beveler.x

Payne out on His Own:

The demise of the Kosmic Rod Co. signaled a new beginning for Edward Payne and his family. By this stage of his career, Payne had helped develop the original Leonard reel with Francis Philbrook, had worked at Hiram Leonard’s rod factory in Central Valley for at least four years, designed and gained a patent for a “new” Leonard raised pillar reel, as

well as establishing himself as one of the highly creative craftsmen at the legendary Kosmic Rod Co. during all but one of its years in the trade. Now with two children tugging at him, he wanted to be home with his family where he could build rods without commuting, and pursue his hobby of cooking. He was undoubtedly secure in the knowledge that he had earned a place in the rod making community, and could compete with any other rod company on the planet. Payne decided to build a modern rod shop of his own on land just across the street from his house, which he called the “Little Red Workshop a-Top the Hill.” He had design ideas of his own for rods, to be sold for the first time under his own name, the E. F. Payne Rod Co., as well as the Kosmic line under a “sole agents” agreement with H. A. Whittemore & Co. of Boston, although Abercrombie carried a complete line of Kosmic rods as late as 1904.xi He wasted no time getting the two-story structure up and painted barn-red, opening for business in 1898.

Each rod maker develops a design style, a look that distinguishes his product from others. When Ed Payne first came out with his line of hexagonal bamboo trout rods they often carried the all nickel silver tubular reel seat and knurled sliding band that he favored. He stamped the company name, “E. F. Payne, MAKER, Highland Mills, N.Y.” on the reel seat, although some of his earlier rods were simply engraved, “E. F. Payne.” He used green shaded jasper, often tipped with crimson, or the traditional Leonard-styled red silk windings to hold the flop ring guides, normally with as many as twenty, evenly spaced, closely wound groupings of silk wraps (often of no more than five turns of silk each) just ahead of the metal cork grip check, known as “signature wraps.” (The vertical rotating rod rack to the left of the entrance to the clubrooms has a fine example of Ed Payne’s early work.) He made rods of varying lengths; long double-handed salmon rods, trout rods (usually at least 8’6” long) built with tapers designed for silk lines that one might today consider rather soft in the hand. His ferrules had an unusual narrowing “truncated” feature, a “waist” on both the male and the female ferrule just short of the silk-covered serrations. Payne had essentially followed Leonard’s method of hard drawing nickel silver tubing to precise dimensions and hardness, each with a slight forward taper on the inside of the male and female ferrule. The fit of his ferrule on the rod section was so secure that he used nothing more than liquid lead as the adhering agent, and a pin. His rods were unquestionably distinctive, and business was good.

Payne continued to make a complete line of bamboo rods with the blond, un-flamed cane, adding detachable grip models (seen in the earlier Kosmic rods), boat rods, and even a few bait-casting rods. He changed to the upright left hand twist English wire snake guide by 1903, and began to use wood as the reel seat filler. As the trend eased to shorter trout rods, he began to move away from his traditional half-Wells grip, often styling the cork hand grasp in the shape of a cigar, slightly rounded, and somewhat blunt by today’s standards. He made a 9’6” trout rod for Theodore Gordon (1854-1915) around 1895 in exchange for 39 dozen flies (Payne’s rods sold for no more than $20 at that time) of Gordon’s tie. Nobody in the Payne family remembers whether the flies were delivered, but the rod stayed in Gordon’s hands until 1912, when he then gave it to his young friend, and fishing partner, Herman Christian (1880-1973), who lived in the neighboring Neversink Valley area. Christian later remembered, “About 1912, when he [Gordon] was staying at DeMund’s Hotel in Neversink, I took him down some feathers and he went in

and got this rod and said, ‘ I don’t know anybody who would appreciate it as much as you would,’ and gave it to me.”xii The wet fly action rod was well used by both, ending up in the Club’s collection, proudly displayed in the large glass case near the windows along with an original Samuel Phillippe rod. Both examples were unfortunately reduced to powder in the Anglers’ Club of New York terrorist bombing of January 24, 1975

By 1902, Ed Payne had a helper. His son, James, was only ten years old when he began apprenticing in the rod shop. His father grew up at the tail end of an era when sons of craftsmen were expected to apprentice at an early age. The stern Ed Payne greeted young Jim with the broadside of a piece of bamboo if other kids who wanted to play delayed him after school. “And believe me” Jim Paine said years later, ‘bamboo certainly does make you sit up and take notice.”xiii Ed raised raspberries in his well-kept front-of-the-house garden that his son dutifully weeded. In the summer he had to pick them and peddle the baskets around town while other kids were playing, a selling job that the shy youngster hated doing. Jim stayed away from raspberries for the rest of his life. He was doing well at the local Highland Mills Public School, but his father wanted him to help in the shop as much as possible. Several years later, Jim considered enrolling in a small school in nearby Newburgh, New York, The Spencer School, for boys interested in a possible career in business. Getting to and from school entailed a daily 20-mile round trip train ride. Ed Payne had heard that some of the schoolboys on the train were getting into trouble, so he forbade Jim from going, saying that he didn’t want his son mixed up with those ruffians. He also did not allow his son to play sports, save for ice skating, fearing that he would injure his hands and be unable to work after school. When Jim left the Highland Mills Public School after the eighth grade at the age of fourteen, he began working at his father’s shop full time, already a seasoned rod builder.

The two men worked side-by-side, turning out a quality line of bamboo rods that were, in the minds of some, on a par with anyone in the trade. Ed Payne’s growing trouble with arteriosclerosis began to limit his time in the shop by 1913, and when he died in September 1914 of heart failure, his son, only twenty one years old, was ready to assume the responsibility of taking over the duties left by one of the recognized giants of the trade. Ed Payne’s list of accomplishments, and innovations, in the Golden Years of the American fishing tackle business, are almost second to none. His rod making and reel design ideas, hatched over one hundred and twenty-five years ago, continue to influence many in the field today. He was an enigmatic, somewhat difficult man, who had the head and the hands to produce some of the world’s great pieces of fishing tackle. And, to his everlasting credit, he fathered and taught his skills to his only boy, the great Jim Payne.

Jim Payne Takes Over:

Ed Payne’s son, Jim, continued to make the blond cane rods in the red clapboard shop that his father built, finally coming out with a small catalogue in 1920, proudly displaying a picture of the rod shop with the uncharacteristically immodest words “Payne – The Perfect Rod” on the cover. It was the work of his main retail outlet, Abbey & Imbrie of New York, and while it made no mention of the rod models that were available, it did

boast that, “The price of Payne Rods will be maintained at $30.00 until further notice.”xiv Payne developed his “node-pressing” device during this period, a method by which he heated the protruding nodes (the spaced structural walls inside each bamboo culm), then quickly pressed it while hot between two slightly curved metal surfaces until it was almost flat with the inter-nodal bamboo. A very clever tool that was later used by many other makers.xv As far as this writer knows, Jim Payne worked in the shop by himself during those early years. But help was on the way in the form of a Leonard employee who had some new ideas of his own.

1925 marked rapid change for the E. F. Payne rod, and the beginning of a more modern approach to the craft, with many new models, a variety of new silk colors, changes in the reel seat design, its hardware, as well as the color of the bamboo itself. Frank G. Oram (1892-1931), a Leonard employee, was a man who knew the trade, coming to the table with a few dollars, and a host of ideas. He was a good friend of Jim Payne, and by the summer of 1925 he had purchased a fifty percent share in the Payne Rod. Co.xvi Within months the men decided to build a larger rod shop in Highland Mills, soon buying a double lot at the corner of Elm and Hollis streets not more than a long block from the main street of Highland Mills.xvii Although the long rectangular white clapboard shop was new, it was fitted with many of the old tools that had seen years of valiant service for him and his father.xviii The machines were driven by an overhead motor with line shafts that had pulleys with wide leather belts that powered all of the machines in the shop. It was an effective, dangerous, Dickensian set of loud whirling apparatus that harkened back to the mills of the Industrial Revolution. Jim Payne had a lot of respect and admiration for Frank Oram, and by the third year together business was such that the men could see that profit was on the horizon.

The H. L. Leonard Company was still the chief competition for anyone in the rod making game, although F. E. Thomas was making a complete line of fine rods in Bangor, Maine. The William Mills catalogue gave Leonard exposure on a national level, and the Mills retail store in New York’s financial area (where many of their well-heeled customers worked) was an enviable outlet for their line of bamboo rods and reels. Up until this time, Jim Payne had continued to employ most of the rod making doctrine that his father had instilled in him. His rods had much the same look as they did fifteen years earlier. In fact, Jim Payne never changed the “E. F” initials stamped on his rods during the over fifty years that he was in business after his father death.xix

Frank Oram convinced Jim Payne that in order to compete with Leonard they should continue with the blond cane rods, known as the “Highland,” with bright ferrules, wound in green silk with red tipping, and the traditional nickel silver reel seat originally conceived by Ed Payne, but also bring out a dark flame treated rod, one with blued ferrules, and blued reel seat hardware (a “skeleton” real seat was optional), much like the dark toned (they were actually stained brown) special order rods that Frank Oram had observed Richard Hunt order from the Leonard Co. as early as 1923.xx It was not a new idea, as Eustis Edwards had developed the process by 1914-15. It is also possible that Jim Payne may have seen Eustis Edward’s deep brown flame-treated rods in the early twenties while visiting him in Hamden, Connecticut. So, in addition to the normal heat

treating that most builders employed to drive off extra moisture in the cane which gives the glued bamboo strips a crisper action, but very little color, he too began to flame treat the culms with a torch before they were split, and readied for the beveler.xxi It unquestionably give Jim Payne’s bamboo rods a new, richer, look, which in time occasioned a meld of important cosmetic changes that were tantamount to rod jewelry.

Their first catalogue was a 3-fold, stiff paper affair, with little in the way of selling hyperbole. It listed both grades, with the “Light Finish” two-tip rod costing $42.00, eight dollars less that the “Dark Finish” model. Extra tips were less than $10.00. These flamed bamboo rods were the first sign of what was to become the Payne standard, which, with evolving, subtle changes, became what many considered to be the most beautiful bamboo rods ever built.

The Payne Rod Gets a New Look:

Enter George H. Halstead (1900-1961), a marvelous machinist whose parents had coincidentally settled in Central Valley when he was a youngster. Before he was old enough to vote, he had secured a job at the Leonard factory where he dutifully made their traditional ferrules and reel seat hardware. Halstead had some fresh ideas, and a lot of talent, both of which were recognized by Frank Oram and Jim Payne, neither of whom had Halstead’s machining ability. During the Payne reorganization period of 1925, Halstead was hired on to help develop new hardware and a fresh ferrule design. Prior to this time, Payne didn’t have a reliable locking reel seat mechanism, (on some rods he did use a nickel silver “jam-fit” seat with a spiraled track on which the locking nut rode), relying mostly on his father’s simple nickel silver sliding band and soldered pocket butt cap seat. Halstead designed and built both of Payne’s locking reel seats, mostly out of new aircraft aluminum alloys, including the most often used “up-locker” (which Payne preferred) with the wide band of diamond knurls on the locking nut that allowed the reel tang (foot) to slide under the hand grasp cork. He also designed the down locking seat, somewhat more elegant, with a beautifully turned and knurled “acorn” button that held the butt cap on the bottom end.xxii Calling the fittings “hardware” does not do their beauty justice. They were an attractive combination of grace and functionality, both of which meshed neatly with the Payne standard for the next forty years.

The mild mannered, out-of-the limelight George Halstead understood the direction that Payne was heading: simple elegance, and a rich streamlined look that would mark Payne rods for decades. He designed a new ferrule for Oram and Payne, one that did away with the “pot-belly” ferrule that Ed Payne designed around 1890. Halstead’s idea was to show an almost unbroken line from the bamboo onto the ferrule serrations, then through the barrel of the male and female ferrule. It too was of the “step-down” design, reminiscent of the older Leonard ferrule, but spare, sleek, and yet functional. Halstead’s contribution to the understated beauty of the new Payne rod cannot be underestimated. Jim Payne unquestionably offered ideas, and gave his approval, but it was Halstead who brought the stylish elegance of the metalwork into the sunlight. He worked for the Payne company for twelve years, designing other hardware for salt water rods, spinning and bait casting

rods, as well as the heavy duty reel seats that one sees on the big double handed salmon rods that had become so popular. He went on to make ferrules for men like Pinky Gillum and Everett Garrison, and later built rods under his own name, all of which carried ferrules and hardware that were unmistakably Halstead.

The Partners on Elm Street:

Jim Payne settled easily in his new shop with partner Frank Oram, or “Ormy,” as he liked to call him, whose presence gave Jim the opportunity to take two weekends off a month. He loved to fish in the Catskills with men like Everett Garrison, Edward R. Hewitt, Roy Steenrod, and A. E. Hendrickson, pointing his “Special Six” Studebaker in that direction in the summer when he took the occasional break from the rod shop and his family. In those days it took him almost eight hours to get to Roscoe, New York, finally bunking over-night at local boarding houses, often fishing for trout on Mr. Hewitt’s private Neversink River preserve, later to be the Big Bend Club. Oram, who satisfied his love for golf and baseball when he got a day or two off, was in charge of the varnishing, some metal work, and tending the office, which was a job that Jim was happy to side step. He did find enough time to keep his hazel eyes on a cute girl who worked in the post office, Alice Barton. She was born in Brooklyn, but came to Highland Mills while still a baby, considered a “local” to most. It didn’t take Payne long to pop the question once he saw she was interested, which led to a ceremony at the local parsonage, and a trip to Washington D.C. for their honeymoon. They bought a house on Route 32, less than two blocks from the rod shop and two girls, Ruth (b.1930) and Janice (b. 1931), were soon born to the couple. Alice Payne was, as most women were in those days, well schooled with needle and thread. She took on the task of making the poplin rod bags, as well as the canvas sectional bags that later housed the extensive line of salmon rods, for every rod that came out of the shop until it closed in 1968. Frank Oram’s wife, Helen Leo Oram, wound the rods in the Payne’s brown silk, Belding Corticelli #5115, and the various tipping silks, often in the thinner 000 sizes, made by the Rice Co. and Belding Bros.

1928 was also the year that the E.F Payne Rod Co. Inc. issued its first real catalogue. It was a small, deckle edged, gray covered pamphlet of eight double-sided pages proclaiming J. A. Payne as President and Treasurer, and Frank Oram as Vice-President and Secretary. There was a photo of Payne’s good friend and customer, Albert E. Hendrickson (1865-1936), holding up a subdued salmon, along with a picture of the new, freshly painted, rod shop. It boasted a complete line of trout, salmon, and bait casting rods (three-piece trout rods had soared to $55), all bristling with George Halstead’s exquisite metal work. It is a sweet little angling collectable today, with a drawing of a young boy holding a cane pole in his hands, with the title “Fishing?” on the cover. Its elegance, and understated style, softly heralded the direction that the company was taking. In January 1929, Frank Oram officially registered the famous Payne trademark, and was instrumental in incorporating the company in 1930, at which time it became known as the E. F. Payne Rod Co. Incorporated.

The partners decided to hire one more set of hands, and once again Payne reached into the Leonard shop just down the road for help. It came in the form of Thomas Earl Bailey Jr., a member of one of the many families living in “Bailey Town” in Bear Mt. Park. He knew enough about mounting rods to be useful, but when he came to Payne in 1930 at the age of sixteen, he kept his eye on George Halstead’s skilled hands for the eight years they were in the shop together, in time becoming a very skilled machinist. When Halstead left to build his own rods, Tom Bailey became Payne’s ferrule maker. His work was impeccable, as was his work ethic. In time, he became one of Jim Payne’s most trusted employees, and Bailey returned the favor by staying on the job, save for the war years, until well after Jim Payne died. Other men like Jim Bailey (no relation), Henry Bieber who came to the shop after he finished his mail delivery route, often gluing the beveled rod sections, and Milton Pembleton of Central Valley, who worked in the cane preparation room, all lent their talents to the making of the Payne rod.xxiii Charles Speer too spent considerable time improving the shop machinery and designing new tools. His contribution was invaluable. Bailey’s sister, Bess Bailey, followed Tom into the shop after World War II, winding every Payne rod that came off the benches with an uncanny ability. She finally stopped working after the company was moved to New Hampshire in 1981.

Difficult Days:

The next fifteen years were marked by two world-altering events: The Great Depression, and World War II, neither of which were models for business growth. To complicate matters, Frank Oram died of kidney failure in 1931 (some say he was hit in the kidney in a baseball accident, from which he never recovered), just when everything at the Elm Street shop seemed poised for smooth sailing. He willed his 50% share of the company to his wife, Helen Oram, and she soon took over the varnishing, did some metal work, as well as tending the needs of the small office that was on the right as one entered the front door, as well as continuing her rod winding duties. Mrs. Oram was also responsible for reissuing the small “Fishing?” catalogue, this time in a green cover, with her name in place of her husband’s on the masthead.

The Depression made the going at the new Payne shop difficult. Orders were down, and cash was short. Luck does often play a part in the eventual success of a small enterprise, and Anglers’ Club member Albert Everett Hendrickson (“A. E.” to most) was a wonderful friend to Jim Payne as well as a design advisor, and a timely benefactor. Hendrickson’s name was given to the feathered imitation of a popular spring hatching fly (Ephemerella subvaria), as well as an oft fished roadside pool on the Beaverkill River by Theodore Gordon’s friend, long-time New York warden, Roy Steenrod. Albert Hendrickson lived in Brooklyn, at the St. Margaret Hotel, and among other businesses he managed a company that delivered baggage for disembarking passengers from any one of the Cunard Lines transatlantic ships that often docked in the slips of New York’s harbor.xxiv He had a salmon camp on the Codroy River in Newfoundland (he is recognized as the first man on American shores to design and use a single handed bamboo rod for salmon fishing), and fished for tarpon with flies in the Panama Canal. Alfred W. Miller

“Sparse Grey Hackle” correctly chronicled Hendrickson’s importance to the firm during the depression. “A. E” was the rod company’s best friend, best customer, longtime benefactor, and occasional financial savior. Jim once told me he made 48 ten-footers before he suited “A. E.’s” tastes, but I think many of these and many other Payne rods as well were bought to give the company a little needed revenue from time to time. “A. E.” was famous for giving away Payne rods. At one particularly low period when the company was hard up, he bought 4 percent of its capital stock made up evenly from Jim Payne and Helen Oram’s shares.xxv

One of Jim Payne’s good friends, casting guru to some, writer, and author of the bizarre Solunar Theory, John Alden Knight, worked with Everett Garrison on a new tapering concept that he called “parabolic action.”xxvi Garrison made eight of these rods for Knight, finally by 1934 crafting something in 8’0,” in a “semi-parabolic” taper that both felt was acceptable. Charles Ritz came into Garrison’s life two years later with his “new” idea for a parabolic rod, born from the probably apocryphal bicycle messenger story known to many, visiting Jim Payne as well on his rounds. Payne and Knight came up with a parabolic rod in three lengths, 7’1”, 7’6”, and the 7’9” model. They normally had an all-cork hand grasp and reel seat, with the blued sliding band and butt cap. Payne made them, but didn’t feel that they were a good design for most peoples’ casting styles because, as John Alden Knight later said, “It [a parabolic rod] demands too much in the way of timing and is not a pleasant rod to use.”xxvii The three rod models were featured in the small green covered “Fishing?” catalogue that was issued by 1940.

America’s decision to join in the war against Germany and its allies in 1941 changed the landscape for most companies engaged in manufacturing large or small. The long arm of the United States Government soon reached onto the shelves of the small shop on Elm Street, forcing Jim Payne to sell all of the metal parts he had on hand to help the War effort. Anything made of brass (nickel silver is a brass alloy) was picked up by Government trucks within weeks. The shop was closed down. Jim Payne willingly went to work for Wright Aeronautical in Woodridge, New Jersey, making propeller shafts on big machines that were not always friendly to the fingers. He got a transfer to a machine shop in Newburgh, New York, where he stayed until the war was over. Alice Payne went to work part time at the Hall Line Co. in Highland Mills making parachute chords. The normal supplies that one would need to run the Payne shop, even hard coal for the shop furnace, was rationed or could not be purchased.

When the Second World War ended, Mrs. Oram decided to sell her 48% interest in the E. F. Payne Rod Company. She had a suitor in the name of Henry McVickar (1886-1960), a Wall Street broker from Tuxedo Park, New York, who could write a check with some zeros on it. He had already purchased the late A. E. Hendrickson’s four percent share from Abercrombie and Fitch, who, although they were one of his retail outlets, thought they might get an exclusive sales agreement for his rods from Jim Payne.xxviii But he enjoyed the visits from old friends and customers who came to the shop to order rods, so he once again refused their offer. McVickar (he too was a member of the Anglers’ Club), with 52% of the stock, then unsuccessfully tried to convince Jim Payne to sell his shares to him. McVickar had developed a trout reel just after the War in two sizes called the

“Bushkill.” Inside this aluminum contraption (the Club has an example of this reel in the new reel cabinet) was a ball bearing that skidded along a circular segmented slotted path that gave off more of a shudder than a click when the handle was turned. The more drag one put on the spring loaded ball bearing, the more reluctant it was to stutter-step into the next slot. But McVickar wanted to be in the rod making business, which is all Helen Oram needed to hear, so she sold her interest to the man from Tuxedo.

It was at this time that Jim Payne took over the delicate job of varnishing the rods. I doubt that anyone will ever know quite how Jim Payne achieved the level of proficiency that he did with a one inch, badger bristled sash brush, a can of varnish, and a long bamboo stick with bumps on it. The airtight varnishing room door warned “No Admittance.” It is from this unadorned white-walled room, with only a set of windows for light, that Jim Payne hand brushed the Super Val Spar “coach” varnish onto his silk wound rod blanks.xxix Many have tried, unsuccessfully, to emulate his technique, yet it is the immaculate varnish coating that undeniably sets Payne rods apart from all others. Many collectors of such things will not buy a Payne rod that does not have Payne’s original varnish. It is like owning a photo of Jane Russell in a raincoat, or visiting the Louvre Museum when the Mona Lisa is on loan. His work was simply better than anyone has ever been able to attain, and discerning anglers want to have an example of that mirror-like mastery in their hands.

McVickar, and the even-going Jim Payne, did not get along. The man from Wall Street, who had secured his bankroll in the aggressive halls of finance, seemed determined to bring Jim Payne’s rods, a line of shotguns, and his poorly conceived Bushkill reel into every sporting home in America. The fact that McVickar thought that he could translate the level of quality that Jim Payne turned out on a daily basis into some form of big business, all on the coattails of mass marketing, was anathema to Payne. It plainly showed that McVickar did not understand why Payne rods, created carefully step-by-step, had become the standard of quality. For all the right reasons, the idea did not appeal to Jim Payne. McVickar tried his best to acquire Payne’s remaining 48% of the company, but the artisan from the small town of Highland Mills would not budge. Lore has it that Payne intentionally slowed down his output of rods, waiting for McVickar to throw his hands in the air in desperation. He did, finally, which led to another Anglers” Club member, “Tom” Collins, a man who understood the essence of the work that was Jim Payne. When he heard that McVickar’s shares in the rod company could be bought, it was an easy decision for Collins. By 1948, he had purchased McVickar’s 52%, as well as most of Jim Payne’s remaining share in the company. The greatest era of the Payne rod was about to begin.

Tom Collins produces the ’51 Catalogue:

Wendell Everett “Tom” Collins (1902-1963) was first and foremost a fisherman. The decidedly portly Collins lived in Woodmere New York, but spent much of his time fishing in the Catskill Mountains, seen usually with his favorite Payne rod, expertly delivering a fly to his next victim. Collins was a member of the Royal Flying Corps of

Canada, later doing a tour as a stunt pilot after the Second World War. He was an accomplished fly tier, developing a number of patterns, including weighted nymphs that were known to be very effective. He was a book collector who read, and a great fly caster who could fish. Edward R. Hewitt, still considered one of the most knowledgeable anglers to have graced the sport, was quoted as having said that Collins was the best angler he had ever seen. The Collins buyout was a relief for the craftsman who, for the first time, had a steady salary, some benefits, and a partner who wanted “Gentleman Jim” to concentrate on building the best rods his head and hands would allow.

Within months of his involvement, Collins instituted the use of the sculptured, bullet-like aluminum ferrule plug that one sees on post-1948 Payne rods. It was a nice, functional touch that kept the important inside surface of the female ferrule dirt and sand free. They did tend to wear holes in the bottom end of the poplin bag, and one had to remember to keep track of the plugs when fishing the rod, but their streamlined look added to the beauty of the package. One can easily tell if the Payne they own was made before 1948, because if the rod sections come up to the top of the tube before the brass top cap is screwed one, leaving no room for the exposed ½” of the ferrule plug, then the rod is pre-1948.

Collins and Payne then began to design several new rod models, including a bone fishing fly rod, a bait casting rod, and a seven-foot spinning rod to meet the demand of the new fixed spool reels coming in from France. Neither Tom Collins nor Payne had the engineering skills of Everett Garrison. New rod models were arrived at empirically. Both men knew actions of rods that appealed to them, and the were comfortable with the limitations of the material, so many rods were developed by gluing up sections, taping guides to the bamboo, and casting them for hours on the lawn along side the shop. Neighbors saw it and shook their heads. To Payne and Collins it was the laboratory the two accomplished fly casters needed.

Before World War II anglers used braided silk lines for their fly rods, coated with boiled linseed oil, which offered limited buoyancy built into the product. Even if greased and polished correctly with any of the line dressings available, silk lines did not float well after a short time on the water. One of the technological advances that sprang from the wartime laboratories was nylon, and the new hollow-core fly lines that the Cortland, and the Ashaway Company of Rhode Island, developed felt lighter going through the rod guides, and seemed to float endlessly. It changed everything. People gave the new lines as Christmas presents if they could get them. Men like Marvin Hedge had also developed a weight forward silk line even before the War, and with the rapid advent of nylon extruding machines line companies could package floating, as well as sinking nylon lines, that met almost any need. Anglers had more choices, and Tom Collins was prepared to meet the sophisticated demands of his customers.xxx

By 1951, the men had assembled a list of sixty-five rod models that they wanted to present to customers in catalogue form. It was the careful work of Tom Collins that produced one of the most interesting rod catalogues that has ever been published. He included short written pieces on rods by none other than Edward Hewitt, George M. L.

La Branche, John Alden Knight, Julia Fairchild (a founding member of the Woman Fly Fishers Club), C. Otto von Kienbusch, Ted Trueblood, artist and dry-fly salmon angler Mead Schaeffer, Grand Cascapedia angler Frederick K. Barbour, and lastly Charles Phair, angling luminaries all, those articles even today make for wonderful reading. The forty eight-page offering had an engraved 19th century angler on the front cover (it is a almost a direct copy of an earlier Adirondack painting by F.A Tait) surrounded by ornate filigree and, along with the name of the company and the address; it boasted that Payne had “Agents in Principle Cities throughout the World.”xxxi The claim may have been a bit speculative, and the cover art grander than expected, but the unique catalogue unquestionably put the Payne rod in full view of a growing post-War cadre of anglers whose growing wealth (prices of the rods were not given in the catalogue), and the opening of better roads into scenic areas of the country, soon translated into brisk sales for the partners. Abercrombie & Fitch Co. was also selling the rods in their Madison Ave. store (one could buy a one-tip rod at the store, and get a replacement tip later if needed) that gave the Payne line an added cachet, one that advertising could not buy. In the teeth of the Korean War, Tom Collins’ business acumen put Payne rods in the hands of thousands of anglers. Six people worked in the Elm Street shop, at a time when they were producing as many as 300 rods a year.

The 1951 catalogue offered rods (69 in all) with many actions; “slow,” “light dry fly,” “fast dry fly,” even “medium” as if there wasn’t enough to pick from. They also made a dizzying array of rods that were specially ordered by their customers, none of which were officially catalogued. Harry Darbee once owned a three-piece 13’0” double handed salmon rod that had an added detachable handle (with a removable fighting butt) that fit onto the mid-section of the salmon rod to make a single-handed 9’6” for dry fly salmon fishing. It was a marvelous piece of engineering, using the same tip sections for both length rods, and yet when I last saw it I doubt it had ever been used. Many consider this period (1950-1965) to mark the highpoint of Jim Payne’s rod making career.xxxii He had a partner in Collins who he admired and trusted. To the eye his rods had all the simplicity money could buy, each with the warm earth tones of richly toned cane, stylish silk colors that were pleasing, yet understated, and reel seat hardware that was unmatched in the business.xxxiii The sight of the Payne brass capped tube, with the distinctive silver and blue warning label (keep the rod dry!) glued to the aluminum, was enough to raise the heart rate of any discerning angler.

“Gentleman Jim” was now secure. He had a fine and faithful group of men and women in the shop, and enough customers through the retail outlets to keep everyone there busy. He began to observe Sunday as a day of rest, often meeting Everett Garrison or “Sparse” in the Catskills, or with his friend, Dr. Fisk on a private lake within the Harriman State Park. He had few hobbies, other than work, although when the family bought a television in the mid-fifties Jim Payne became an unlikely fan of professional wrestling. He played pinochle and cribbage infrequently with friends, mowed the grass like everyone else, and painted his two-story house every five years. The occasional trip to New York was not an occasion to see a Broadway musical, or a lecture on the new social programs of Franklin Roosevelt (he was decidedly conservative in his politics), but rather a chance to visit his number one retailer, Abercrombie & Fitch.

Abercrombie & Fitch Gets its Way:

After a long illness, Tom Collins died in January 1963. Within weeks it was clear to Jim Payne that he needed someone to handle the business side of things if he and his co-workers were to continue making the Payne rod at a yearly rate that he knew was profitable. A suitor quickly filled the gap in the form of Gerald Mayer of the Gladding Corp., long makers of quality fly lines. Meetings were held in March, and by April Mayer purchased Tom Collin’s controlling stock in the company, keeping Jim Payne as the president. One of the important changes that Mayer had negotiated on behalf of Abercrombie & Fitch was that they be the sole agents for the Payne rod, something that A&F had wanted for years.xxxiv An old friend of Jim Payne’s, sportswriter Ed Zern, came to the cocktail party billed to announce the take over. Reportedly, Payne’s lack of interest in the affair was evident on his face as Gerald Mayer droned on about the significance of the well-timed acquisition by Gladding, and how the two companies were a natural fit. Zern sat next to Payne, both keeping a close watch on the door. After the meeting, Leo Martin, acting on behalf of A&F, asked his friend Jim for one more change. A new butt cap stamp was made changing the words “Sold By” to “Made by Abercrombie and Fitch.”

If one was lucky enough to go to the eighth floor of Abercrombie and Fitch at 45 th street and Madison Ave., one could see Payne rods lined up on the mahogany rod-rack like corn stalks in Iowa. Many of the new models were very short; rods like the 5’4” “Banty”, and his shortest, the 4’4” rod designed for small stream fishing. Payne also made delicate 6’0” and the 6’6” in models 95 and 96, several of which were advertised as “dry fly” actions for #3 DTF and #4 DTF lines. The line of short rods may have seemed to some as a gimmick, but the public bought them almost as fast as they could put examples in the rack. Gladding made lines to match that came in an ornate box with the Payne named emblazoned on the front. It was a window of opportunity for discerning anglers. One could go to A&F during a lunch break and paw through the lineup of Payne rods on the eighth floor, then take the elevator to the roof-top casting platform at one end of the pool for twenty minutes of casting, being careful not to tear the protective paper that traditionally covered the cork handle of all Payne rods. Depending on the model, most customers left with a rod, a Hardy reel, and a Gladding line to match, together costing less than $400. It was a time at A&F that some still remember, but fewer took full advantage of.

Now well into his sixth decade as one of the premier builders of bamboo rods, Jim Payne showed no signs of slowing down. Demand for his product seemed insatiable. The small trout rods, especially the 7’0” model 98 – made in four actions – sold almost as fast as they were made. Gone was the need to make the long double-handed salmon rods, many of which were “double built,” as well as the demand for longer trout and salmon rods in bamboo.” They were replaced by far cheaper, light fiberglass rods from Japan that were flooding the stores. They rapidly took over the bait and spinning rod market, as well any demand for single-handed salmon rods and the longer, big river, trout rods.xxxv The pride

of ownership of a finely crafted bamboo rod, save for those in the short trout lengths, was bowing to the forces of technology. Fortunately, Jim Payne, the master of bamboo rod making, may have lived in exactly the right era when his skills with bamboo could be fully appreciated.

Payne continued to work as if age was no longer a consequence of long life. He walked the two blocks to his home every day for lunch, as he had always done, and went to the services at the Methodist Church regularly. He had passed seventy with ease, his large, highly talented hands, still demanding more of the now ancient bamboo beveler than it could deliver without his coaxing. One day in late May of 1968 the colon cancer that had caused him some discomfort in past months, and had recently spread to the liver, finally made working at the bench too painful. He closed the door one afternoon, unsure if he would return. He died on June 12th, 1968, and was buried in the local Highland Cemetery with an alarmingly simple, flush to the ground stone marker, hardly larger than a brick, with only the initials “J. A. P.”

***

One would have to search long and hard to find two men who have contributed more to the development of fishing tackle than Ed and Jim Payne. Both had an innate ability to translate their ideas - vision, if you will - into quality pieces of fishing tackle that have stood up against decades of scrutiny. Ed Payne was the metal machinist in the family, and his historic work with Francis Philbrook, the Kosmic Rod Co., as well as his own venture as a rod maker are enough to raise his name above most. His son’s ability to turn a piece of bamboo into a highly functional fishing rod – that most agree has no equal in terms of beauty – is unmatched to this day. Jim Payne may have made as many as 12,000 bamboo rods, and they all share the same attention to detail, uncommon beauty, and a level of craftsmanship that is unsurpassed. I have said it before, and I don’t mind repeating it here. “Jim Payne was the greatest rod maker that ever lived.” There, I have said it in print. Now, it is the reader’s job to find one that suits you, take it to the stream with your favorite matching reel, and be thankful that these talented men took the time to make such things. It is part of the unique enjoyment of fishing.

Epilogue:

Gerald Mayer had precious little time to see fruit fall from his investment in the Payne Rod Co. He had given the company to his son Tim, a brilliant young Harvard graduate who had a unique talent for cutting edge theatre, but didn’t know a bamboo tip from a butt section.xxxvi Dave Decker was brought in by Mayer, followed by Walt Carpenter, Lawson Upchurch, and Jay Browand in 1975 (Leo Martin, long of Abercrombie & Fitch, was chosen by Gladding to reorganize the company), all of whom worked with the ever-present Tom Bailey and his sister Bessie.xxxvii Harold Bacon bought the contents in 1981 after the company was sold to him by a group of Texans, Brooks Bouldin and John Hannah, who could not meld the romance of owning the Payne Rod. Co., with complications that were underlying in the small business,. Harold sold everything to Bill

Alley of the Diamondback Rod Co. of Stowe Vermont in 1986, and the historic cargo sat in several large trailers bracing the New England winters like a stray dog. Payne parts, papers, and machines bounced around like pin balls, with some pieces “sticking” as each owner tried to figure out what to do with tools that were like pawns in the hands of Jim Payne. What is left is in the hands of a very capable rod maker, David Holloman, in the McKenzie Hills of Oregon. The company carries the Payne name, and is intent on making Payne rods.

There are names in all forms of artistry and craftsmanship that rise above the rest. Payne, both Jim and Ed Payne, are certainly among the elite in the field of fishing tackle. Making rods, or painting a picture, are not endeavors that everyone has the aptitude for, certainly not at the level of Payne, father and son. These names should be shelved, removed from the temptation of using them as trademarks for goods that cannot possibly have the same stamp of perfection. Rod making at its highest level is very hard to do, and few, if any, have Jim Payne’s ability. My hope is that the great Payne name will someday be laid aside by owners that know enough to pay their respects to these men whose many achievements are in a class by themselves.

My thanks to:

Steve Blake, Jim Brown, Mark Canfield, Bill Cook, Cathie Cooper, Dwight Demeritt, Paul Fischer, Charles W. Fleischmann, Austin Francis, Patrick Garner, Sante L. Giuliani, Dane Gray, James Hardman, Jeffrey L. Hatton, Dave Howell, Amy Johansson, Patrick Lane, Priscilla Couch Mayer, Patrick Oram, Nancy Roberts, Leslie Rose, Walter and Janice Stanfield, Elizabeth Stevens, Lon Teter, Ruth Thompson, Col. Edward Trudo M.D., Lawson Upchurch, and Paul White.

i Brown, Jim, A Treasury of Reels, The Museum of American Fly Fishing, 1990, pages 60-61. Brown details the patent claims, as well as he lists two other important studies of the Philbrook and Payne reel, those of Martin Keane, and Mary Kefover Kelly. ii See an article by James Hardman in The American Society of Arms Collectors, Bulletin #96, pages 15-38. It is an interesting study of gutta-percha, “mud,” hard rubber, celluloid, and Bakelite and phenolics. Hardman shows a number of photos of mottled pistol grips and other products, including a beautiful Philbrook & Payne fly reel, many of which are a combination of orange and black or red and black colorations. Hardman describes the process as, “ There is no set formula for Mud, but in general it is a mix of various natural resins akin to shellac or resin with some fillers and coloring agents added. By filler, I mean ground-up mined calcium carbonate, sawdust, or even kitchen flour that was added to the molten base resin. After cooling, the solidified “Mud” was ground up into little chips and was ready for molding.” iii As of this writing, it is unclear as to the actual maker of these reels. Mills may have jobbed them to someone, or had parts made by several reel making houses, and assembled somewhere in New York. In fact, although the patent was issued in 1882, the few reels that were made were not issued until some years later. iv Both versions of the “Leonard” reel had a slightly raised rim, which allowed very little room between the winding arm and the reel frame itself, thus almost eliminating the problem of getting the line or leader wound around the handle as it was turned. The Philbrook and Payne reel popularized that design notion. v Alfred Miller, in his partially unpublished paper The Father of the Rod, says, “Leonard asked them [William Mills] to suggest a location and Thomas Mills replied that he had a sister living in Central Valley, New York, and it was a likely community for his purpose.” It was also relatively close to their showrooms in downtown New York City. vi All reports to date, if not conjecture, indicate that the Leonard beveler was off-limits to everyone save for Loman Hawes and Mr. Leonard. This writer, who has been around his share of rod shops, believes that Ed Payne, who was one of their qualified machinists, must have spent some time in the presence of that beveler. vii The factory was located at 163 Grand Ave. in Brooklyn, N.Y. The retail store was located at 316 Broadway, several blocks north of City Hall.viii There is considerable conflict in the angling historical community over whether Kosmic rods were made in the U. S. Net and Twine factory, and therefore whether Ed Payne made the arduous trips daily to New York City. Members of the Payne family remember hearing of the almost daily trips to Brooklyn.ix When U.S. Net & Twine acquired the Kosmic Company in 1894, they quite naturally added the “Isaac” to the “Walton,” thus calling that line of rods the “Isaac Walton.” x Fred Thomas did buy the Kosmic beveler from U. S. Net and Twine by 1899. xi Abercrombie & Fitch offered fly rods from 7’6” to 14’ 6”, and bait casting rods, both fresh and salt water, from 5’6” to 15” 0”.xii Miller, Alfred W., Fishless Days, Angling Nights, 1971, Crown Publishers, New York, page 134. Told in the context of a broad conversation between Alfred W. Miller and Herman Christian about the life of Theodore Gordon.xiii This taken from page 5 of the 1920 Payne catalogue produced by Abbey & Imbrie.xiv Ibid.xv Hiram Hawes used a very similar lever driven device that may have been the inspiration for the one used by Payne. The tool that Hawes used is now owned by the Catskill Center in Livingston Manor, New York.xvi Former Leonard employees who knew Frank Oram, had reason to believe that Oram left H. L. Leonard because the Mills family would not sell him a share of the rod making concern.

xvii The old Ed Payne built shop was converted to a house, and remained there until it was condemned, and torn down in 1953 to make way for the New York State Thruway.xviii The Payne shop was heated by a coal furnace. On cold nights, Jim Payne walked the two blocks to the shop to stoke the fire before going to bed, to keep the pipes from freezing. xix Jim Payne was a very modest man, certainly not one to trumpet his achievements, or insert his initials in place of his father’s, the man who originally built the rods, and taught young Jim the trade.xx Bluing nickel silver, also known as “oxidizing,” required the use of a very toxic mixture of chemicals. The ingredients Jim Payne used are: 2 oz. of ferric chloride, 1 1/2oz. of arsenic trichloride, I tablespoon of sulfuric acid, and 4 oz. of water. A sip could kill a human.xxi That heat-treating oven also served as the stove for his famous baked beans recipe that many of his friends happily tasted more than once.xxii John A. Feldenzer wrote a very interesting, well researched, article about the life and work of George Halstead in the Volume 34, Number 1, Winter, 2008 issue of the American Museum of Fly Fishing’s, The American Fly Fisher. xxiii Payne got his glue from Milligan & Higgins, NYC, known as “calf gelatin” glue. It was made from calfskin, and was often called “hide glue.” He mixed it one part powdered gelatin, with four parts of water.xxiv For years Hendrickson had a large stable of horses in Brooklyn that pulled the baggage carts through the streets of New York, later employing gas driven wagons. xxv Miller, Alfred W., Great Fishing Tackle Catalogs of the Golden Age, Crown Publishers Inc, New York, 1972, page 341.xxvi Knight’s “ Solunar Tables,” as they were called, claimed to be able to tell when the fish were biting based on a calculation of the moons rotation in relation to the earth. He sold a lot of them, and they were published in books, magazines, and catalogues, all of which put money in Knight’s pocket. Many scoffed, Edward R. Hewitt for one, calling it sorcery, and Knight spent considerable time defending his fish-catching tables. xxvii This quote from Knight taken from page 10 of the 1951 Payne catalogue.xxviii Jim Payne made rods a number of retailers other than Abercrombie & Fitch. He also made them for H. & D. Folsom Arms, New York, Clapp & Treat Co. Inc, Hartford, CT, Von Lengerke & Antoine (an Abercrombie & Fitch owned store), Chicago, IL, Art Neu, Newark, New Jersey, Charles Phair, and Mainwaring & Co., Paris, France.xxix Jim Payne started varnishing rods at about the same time Everett Garrison began making them. Payne talked Garrison into using the Val Spar product, which had a slightly orange coloration to it, and an unmistakable strong, sweet, smell. Over decades the varnish on many of the rods made by these two great makers has softened, dripping like sap on a warm day in March. Some of the rods have stuck to the poplin bags, and have usually needed refinishing. xxx When fiberglass was developed in the late 1950s, Tom Collins feared that the new rod blanks coming onto the market, considerably lighter and much cheaper, might overtake bamboo as the material of choice. He convinced Jim Payne to make a series of models using Browning Silaflex glass blanks (they too were a pleasing brown color), all fitted with authentic Payne hardware and redesigned Swiss-type blued ferrules. Jim Payne did the work reluctantly. The project did not last long, and it is quite possible that not more than several hundred ever reached the market. It is interesting to note that fiberglass blanks did not have the “hoop strength” that their carbon fiber cousins had by 1975. The butt sections of most fiberglass rods tended to become somewhat ovoid in shape under the stress of a long line cast, and as any physics student knows, there is little strength left in a cylinder that has become oval in shape. xxxi This writer bought the original engraved plate from Leo Martin, a good friend of Jim Payne’s, who was in charge of the fishing tackle division for Abercrombie & Fitch. It was ingeniously engraved on a silver-like rectangular metal plate, in reverse (a negative image), with the name of the engraver, Sidney

Alabaster, in the right hand lower corner. A Payne family member later told me that Mr. Alabaster was believed to be a well-known forger of such things, hired, in this case, by Tom Collins. In fact, it was undoubtedly “inspired” by the advertising plate of 18 th century London maker of books, Mary Knight & Son, who were in Crooked Lane. The plate was given, along with a number of other Payne memorabilia, to the American Museum of Fly Fishing in 1994.xxxii The story goes that Jim Payne earned $125 per week in the mid-fifties.xxxiii The standard brown silk was Belding Corticelli #5115 size A. The yellow tipping on rods 8’0” and under was Belding Bros. #999 size OOO. The earth-red tipping used on rods of 9’0” and 9’6” was Belding Bros. #998 (or 326) size OOO. A green tipping silk, Belding 000 #997 was used on all rods 10’0” and longer. The purple silk was made by Holland #448 (or 468) size OOO, and was used as decorative wraps between the standard brown and the tipping color of choice. Payne use clear shellac, cut 1/3rd with denatured alcohol. xxxiv Rods made by Payne without the Abercrombie and Fitch indicia remained on the rack for sale in the Elm Street shop until Payne’s death. He may have fudged a bit on this one specific of the deal, but he loved the interchange with his old time customers, and was not going to deny them their choice of Payne rod should they come to his shop. xxxv The practice of “double building” entailed gluing the powerful outer “primary fibers” of a bamboo culm onto another carefully prepared flat piece of bamboo, then cutting the strip for the larger butt or midsections on the beveler from this double layer of bamboo. Although it was time consuming, the result was a rod with greater power, but also a noticeable increase in weight. Payne catalogued them in lengths from 10’6” to 14’0”. xxxvi I coincidently met Tim Mayer in the summer of 1968 when I went to WGBH-TV in Boston to work. At age twenty-eight, Tim’s unconventional approach to television drama was palpable among the Public Television community. He had never been to the Payne shop, and asked me to go to Highland Mills in the summer of 1969 where Dave Decker was doing his best to put together some of the last of Jim Payne’s work. I knew almost nothing about bamboo rods then, I did get to see the place within months of Jim Payne’s death. Tim Mayer died five or six years later of cancer.xxxvii Before Harold Bacon bought the Payne tools, I made an attempt to get the American Museum of Fly Fishing to spend the $50,000 to buy the shop, and move the contents so that people could see, maybe even use for instructional purposes, the Payne shop. I had very little traction in those days, and the Museum had even less interest.