Fishing off Pier A in Hoboken, NJ

On the north side of Hoboken's Pier A, a few miles south of the traffic-soaked George Washington Bridge, stands Herbie. He's facing toward midtown Manhattan, with the Empire State Building still reflecting summer sun even though it's near 7 p.m. Orientation is important to Herbie while he's fishing. "This spot's good," Herbie says, glancing side to side to ensure no other angler is within hearing range. "Got a 33 inch blue fish last week," Herbie adds with a conspiratorial whisper. "Right here."

Fishing life Just yards away, a disheveled man curses at a semi-submerged baseball cap floating along the Hudson's incoming western tide. He utters his last lurid oath at the drowning hat and trudges off. Herbie chuckles and shakes his head. He has coal black eyes, a wispy tuft of a black mustache, and a soft, inviting, well-tanned face. He's 64, lives in Patterson, New Jersey, and travels to Pier A to fish whenever he can get the free time. He comes in the evening, around dusk, when the fishing is best.

Herbie jams the butt of his thick, fiberglass fishing pole under his right underarm and deftly ties a red and white colored plastic bobber, a triangular metal sinker, and a gruesomely curved hook at the end of the almost transparent line. Herbie pulls a curled slab of bloody fish out of a shallow white bucket near his feet. He jabs it on the hook, wheels back the rod, and lets loose with a cast that propels the bait far enough into the water that one can barely make out the splash.

"You got to get it out there where they're swimming," Herbie says. According to Herbie, he hasn't caught many blues off the pier, but he caught a 35-inch striped bass a few weeks ago that was delicious. "The big ones come in from the ocean," says Herbie. "They're just passing through, so they're clean. I made steaks out of it and put it on the barbeque."

Bait Herbie and most of the other fishermen use bunker for bait. According to Ronald and Robert Loehwing, Hoboken residents, Moe's Bait & Tackle in Jersey City is the best place for bait. Ronald, a lifetime resident of Hoboken, has been fishing for 25 years. He fishes for recreation several nights a week after work and on the weekend. According to Ronald, the summer months are slow for fishing, with an average of a fish a day. However, in September and October, the number jumps to four or five fish a day. Ronald said most nights, there at least six or seven fishermen, but on weekends there can be as many as 150 rods in the water. He has caught striped bass, blue fish, fluke, and flounder. Recently Ronald caught a 3-foot striped bass; yet, that isn't the biggest he's caught off the pier.

Robert, Ronald's brother, has caught several bass that were tagged from the Hudson River Foundation. The tags are worth $5 to $1,000, with one for $100,000. Robert's tags were worth $10. According to him, some guys fish just to try to find $100,000 bass.

According to the brothers, they eat most of what they catch, but they wouldn't eat the crabs because they feed from the bottom. There are clear lines between the fishermen and the guys who crab. "I would never eat crabs from here," said Herbie. "They eat everything that's on the bottom. No way would I eat those. But people do. They eat them right up."

Crabbing Further down on the pier, away from the fishermen there was a man crabbing with three traps in the water, each affixed to a white piece of rope knotted to the pier's railing. He stands next to two companions. One has slits for eyes and a careless swath of thick silver hair, and looks quite inebriated. They're each wearing worn football jerseys and soiled jeans shorts. The taller one is missing a row of front teeth. The short one is barefoot. The men are crabbing for blue claw crabs. The barefoot man says he doesn't eat the crabs they catch, but his buddy does.

"They're good," says the toothless man. He smiles wide, his gums shining in the still strong light. "Nothing wrong with them crabs." Apparently, crabs aren't as particular as fish; they will eat an assortment of items. "Anything that's gone rotten - bunker, chicken necks, calamari," says the toothless man. The drunk nudges his head back in and says, "You a game warden? We ain't taking no short crabs."

At the end of the pier, there's a man lounging in a folding chair, his sandaled feet up on the rail, and a fishing rod to his immediate right. When asked if he had any luck, the man tilted his head, smiled and said "yup." "What did you catch?" I ask. "Blues, stripers, crabs maybe." "Not a thing," he answers. "Oh, I thought you said you had some luck." He smiles wider and says, "I did. My wife let me go fishing tonight."