Antique Lures Catch Fish, But Can You Afford to Lose Them?

To a large degree, the vast majority of bass anglers today usually maintain a sharp lookout for the hottest new lure to hit the marketplace, so they can race out and scarf up their fair share ahead of everyone else. There are those, however, who would just as soon take their chances with vintage lures, which time and again have proven themselves to be equally valuable tools in the pursuit of bass.

I recently came across an article by the late outdoors writer Bob Hood, who noted that sometime around 1978, he had happened upon an old tackle-display case in the corner of a small building in his barnyard, located north of Granbury, TX. In that case was an antique Shakespeare lure that he decided to give one last chance to outwit a largemouth bass.

The Swimming Mouse (in the mouth of the fish at right), as this lure was named, was the smallest of a series of wooden mouse baits with glass eyes made by Shakespeare decades earlier. As a matter of fact, Shakespeare first introduced the Swimming Mouse to the fishing world in 1924, and the junior model (No. 6580), which Hood had, was made somewhere between 1929 (when the junior size was introduced) and 1932 (the last year the company used glass eyes on the lure). It measured just under three inches in length.

As Hood noted in his article, "These dates are essential to lure collectors but probably mean little to the casual angler, who isn't interested in nostalgia. Being both a lure collector and a fisherman, though, owning such a fine specimen of historical significance heavily influenced my mind that summer day, as I contemplated taking it down to my stock tank and giving it one last opportunity to show off its stuff."

Hood saw such an event as much of a chance to relive history as it would be a chance to fight and land one of the husky largemouth bass that lurked in the weedy waters of his stock tank.

"And, besides, if I tied a perfect knot, surely I wouldn't lose the thing to a fish," he thought.

To add a degree of authenticity to the occasion, Hood decided to use an antique rod, reel and braided line. After all, that's what the folks had to fish with back when the lure was new in its box.

"I chose a squared-steel True Temper rod with a buggy-whip-like action," he said. "It was the first fishing rod I ever owned, given to me by my father when I was eight years old. The reel was a Langley baitcaster, also my first. The line also was antique but on a spool that never had been used. I tested it as best I possibly could before spooling it onto the Langley and felt satisfied it still was strong enough to use on the bass in my pond."

To add to this reliving-of-history moment, he took along a couple of other oldies: a Creek Chub Wiggle Fish (top photo left), made between 1908 and 1917, and an Al Foss Pork Rind Minnow (bottom photo left), made in about 1920. It was the Swimming Mouse, however, that he wanted to catch a fish on.

"Maybe it was those pleading glass eyes that caught my attention," noted Hood, "or maybe that wagging whip-of-a-tail that seemed to give the little lure new life with every twitch of the True Temper rod's tip. Anyway, I decided to give the Mouse the first chance."

Because a weed patch in one corner of the stock tank always held a bass, that was the target of Hood's first cast. He gave the mouse a heave, and it luckily plunked down exactly where he wanted it, which surprised him a bit, since he had no idea how to cast the thing on such a whippy steel rod.

"The moment now was at hand," said Hood. "I reeled down to take up the slack and gave the little floating mouse a short twitch. At that moment, the water beneath the lure rolled up into one giant swell, then reversed in a volcanic-like vacuum, sucking my little mouse down with it. This, no doubt, was a big bass.

"I set the hook, felt the sudden heaviness of a big fish on the other end of the line, and then my heart sank in disbelief as the little Swimming Mouse came zipping back through the air at me. The bass was gone, but that wasn't the heart-stopper.

"Also gone was the little braided tail on the wooden bait, a seemingly insignificant two-inch piece of string to some folks but a part of the lure, which makes it a valuable keepsake for any lure collector. Owning a wooden, glass-eyed Shakespeare Swimming Mouse without its tail is like owning a rare bottle of wine without the wine," he explained.

Hood, however, didn't sit down and cry. Instead, as he described the situation, "I sat down and bawled," he admitted.

Later, when Hood put the Swimming Mouse back in the display case, he spied another oldie he long had forgotten about. It was a Weezel Sprarrow topwater lure (right), with real mallard-duck feathers that, like the mouse's tail, gave it the looks of the real thing.

"I knew that Weezel Sparrow still would catch bass, but the thought of a fish throwing it back at me without its feathers was just too much to contemplate," he said. "So, I put the lure back on the shelf and then sat down in a chair and faced the chilling thought that there really are some days when it's best not to go fishing," Hood concluded.