Commercial Fishing 83 - Port of Everett

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Commercial Fishing

COMMERCIAL
FISHING INDUSTRY
A thriving Everett waterfront
commercial fishing industry
became a vital part of the community
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Commercial Fishing

A cooperative fish
processing plant
(Commercial Fishing
section cover) operated
in Everett to serve
the fishing industry
region wide.
Photo courtesy
Jack C. O’Donnell collection
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Commercial Fishing
Everett’s Fishing Heritage
The Everett commercial fishing industry has been a major occupant in the North
Waterfront since the 1940s. However, it is necessary to go back a half century
before that to understand its importance to the area — back to the fishing village
of Komiza on the island of Vis in present-day Croatia, then part of the Hapsburg Austro-
Hungarian Empire.
Vis is an island in the Adriatic Sea off the Dalmatian Coast, about a two-hour ferry ride
from the Croatian seaport of Split. Komiza, a small village located on the west side of the
island, was the birthplace of fishing on the east side of the Adriatic. The fishing industry
in Komiza goes back to the 15th century. When these fishermen, along with their
families, left their homeland for a better life in America, they brought with them not only
outstanding fishing skills acquired from centuries of fishing around the outlying islands of
the Vis archipelago, but also the perseverance, endurance, and courage needed in a time
when fishing boats were driven by wind and human muscles.
The first of these Slavs (simplified from Yugoslavia and often pronounced as rhyming
with halves), as the Komiza villagers called themselves, to come to Everett was Anton
“Old Tony” Mardesich in 1898. He arrived looking for fish at time when about 45 million
pounds of salmon were caught off the West Coast of the United States. He chose Everett,
but there were many cities up and down the coast that were also destined to become
commercial fishing centers. Paul Martinis came to the United States from Vis in 1913. A
hard worker, he was aided by Old Tony Mardesich and eventually saved enough to bring
over three brothers. Paul went on to become the patriarch of the Everett commercial
fishing industry and the brothers became very successful, each skippering his own purse
seiner in Alaskan waters.
Another Slavic family that moved to this country for a brighter future was Nicola “Nick”
and Mary (Felando) Mardesich. Nicola, a distant cousin of Old Tony, was also from Komiza
on the Isle of Vis, where he had tended a vineyard. Besides being the fishing masters of
the Adriatic, the people of Vis were also expert wine makers. In San Pedro, California,
Nick met the woman he would marry, who was from a Slavic fishing family. They moved
to Tacoma where Nick got into the fishing business and eventually they settled in Everett.
The Borovinas were still another family from Vis who came to Everett. Jay broke tradition
with his father and grandfather who fished off purse seiners. Cousins Jay Borovina, Mike

Borovina, and Vincent “Butch” Barcott (whose mother was a Borovina) followed in their
grandfather Borovina’s footsteps. Jay was a gillnetter who often fished in the False Pass
area of Alaska‘s Aleutian Islands. Jay’s son Joe also fished, making four generations
of Borovinas involved in Everett commercial fishing through the 20th and early
21st centuries.
Also tracing their roots back to Komiza were members of the
Zuanich family. Some of them came to Everett, but an even larger
number ended up in Bellingham. Like Everett, Bellingham had a
large population of Slav fishing families, as did Seattle, Tacoma,
Anacortes, Blaine, Gig Harbor, Astoria, Oregon, and San Pedro,
California. Local fishing families also came from other islands in
Croatia, including Brac and Vela Luca.
The Slav immigrants often sponsored relatives who also came here to fish, resulting
in the birth of an Everett commercial fishing fleet. The Slavs who moved here were a
tightly knit group of families, almost all of whom depended on commercial fishing for a
livelihood. Those in the fishing industries co-existed with the mills on the waterfront, but
had little connection with them.
Early on, the Slavs kept to themselves. The first generation to come to Washington
spoke native Slavic all their lives and went about their work living quiet and private lives.
The second generation learned English proficiently. In a 2008 interview, Wini (Joncich)
Mardesich, then in her 90s, remembered accompanying her Slavic father when he went
to the bank. She would do the talking because her English was better. However, it also
gave her shrewd father time to think about what the bankers were saying and make wise
financial decisions.
The children acclimated to American culture easily, but also had to know some of
the old language. All the Slavs were Catholic and, as one Slav quipped, the good ones
went to church. In a 2008 interview, Matt Zuanich, deacon at Immaculate Conception
Church, said the Slavs were devout Catholics and remembered in his fishing days that
the boats had a Crucifix and a picture of the Sacred Heart or the Last Supper. Most of
the Slavs attended the Bayside Catholic church, Immaculate Conception, because they
lived in that part of town. In a 2008 interview, Barbara (Martinis) Piercey remembered
her school days. “I have a childhood memory of when I was attending Immaculate
Conception School. St. Nicholas was the patron saint of Komiza. The village had a
Komiza on the
island of Vis
in present day
Croatia
Photo courtesy
Barbara and
Jim Piercey
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Commercial Fishing
celebration on St. Nicholas Day in December each year. Part of the celebration was a
huge bonfire. Typically an old fishing boat would be used for the fire. Anyway, in Everett
on St. Nicholas Day at the early weekday mass (which all pupils were encouraged to
attend) in the back of the church would be several pews of fishermen in their work
clothes attending the Mass on St. Nicholas Day.”
Perhaps the fishing families lived on the west side of town to be closer to their boats
and their source of survival. The 2700 block of Grand Avenue was once dubbed “Garlic
Alley” because of the concentration of Slavs living there and their preference for garlic in
their cooking. The Polk city directories show that between 1932 and 1967 no fewer than
five of the households on the block were occupied by Slavic fishing families, and in 1939
there were 10. Some surnames show up more than once on the block. Families who
resided there were Bacich, Barcott, Borovina, Cupic, Dragovich, Drazich, Marincovich,
Ruljanicich, Separovich, Vlastelica, and Zuanich.
Other Slavic fishing names in the community were Joncich, Barhanovich, Bogdanovich,
Plenkovich, Andrich, Milatich, Bakalich, Domondich, Vitalich, Matich, Burich, Makovich,
and Radovich. In a 2008 interview, Dr. Roland Hublou, a local dentist and a successful
commercial fisherman, joked that he would have had an easier time getting on a fishing
crew in his youth had his surname ended with “ich.” Many of the Slavs had the same
names, first and last. One member of the Borovina family said they wanted to keep a
good thing going. Slavs from Komiza had an unspoken protocol for naming their children.
They started with grandparents’ names, then parents’ names, and then the names of
aunts and uncles. It was a way to honor family members. What creativity they may have
lacked in giving birth names they made up for in assigning nicknames. For example, with
as many as seven individuals named Paul Martinis, nicknames were a way of identifying
each. There were Paul Sr., Paul Jr., Doro Paul (his wife’s name), Freeland Paul (his boat),
Seaside Paul (his home for a period of time), Tall Paul (his height), and so on. An outsider
might only know a nickname and never know a person’s real name.
Children palled around with those of other Slavic fishing families and often went to each
other’s homes. Barbara (Martinis) Piercey remembered that her Aunt Pearl Martinis,
wife of Paul Sr., would rent a summer cabin at Lake Stevens and the kids would go there
to swim, row boats, and sometimes spend the night. Wives and children would gather
there while the men were in Alaska fishing for the summer. Family was all-important
and the sons loved going out on the fishing boats. Many children went into the fishing
business. When they first went out on the fishing boats, it was a family affair and any

money the kids made belonged to their fathers. This was true even after they were old
enough to earn a share, or percentage, of the money from the catch. August Mardesich,
son of Nick Mardesich, recalled that he was 16 before he got his own share.
Since the men were away fishing so much of the time, it was natural that the women
ran the households. Life was difficult and the work was too, but their mettle and work
ethic paid off. The Slavs were noted for being fiercely competitive at sea, but very close
at home. They had active social lives and often gathered at each other’s homes during
the holidays. They might sing along with Vera Mardesich on the piano or Johnny Joncich
on the accordion. A celebration of Saint Nicholas Day in the early part of January took
place at the impressive home of Nick Mardesich, 1821 Grand Avenue. Other celebrations
were held at other homes. Wini (Joncich) Mardesich recalled that a party would start
at one home and move on to several other homes before ending at the Paul Martinis
Sr. home. The same people would be at the open houses, and non-Slavic friends were
welcome too.
Not all of the major fishing families were Slavs. Ferdinand Leese, a man of German
extraction, was looking for a more moderate climate when he left Port Hope, Michigan,
where he fished Lake Huron. He went to Florida and California before arriving in Seattle
where he found too many hills. From there he came to Everett, which he liked. He stayed
and soon was joined in 1910 by his sons Bob and August. Soon more Leeses came.
August encountered a problem when he built his first boat here. He was used to fresh
water and the plentiful oak of the Midwest. Oak worked well for planking; it would swell
up and not leak. Here, where oak was not common, he used fir. Fir didn’t swell up, but
dried above the water line and subsequently leaked.
August had four sons who followed him in the fishing business. By the 1940s each of
them had his own purse seiner. Albert skippered the Sunset, Walter the Montague,
Wilhelm the Mermaid, and Emil the Solta. Several members of the next generation went
into fishing, too. William O. “Buddy” Leese knew he’d follow in his grandfather’s and
father’s footsteps. As a young child he’d set the net from his wagon in his back yard.
William’s son William skippered the Intrepid, and his daughters Karen’s and Susan’s
husbands, Lonnie Lindemuth and Jim Waltz, respectively, fished out of Everett. As of
2008, the next generation was fishing, making six generations in all. Jim and Dick, Emil’s
sons, fished out of Everett. Dick fished on the Solta. Jim bought the Polarland from the
Martinis family and fished with it for 40 years. As of 2008 it was owned by his son Jim.
His son Jared is another of the sixth generation Leeses in the fishing business.
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A good number of Everett fishermen came from Scandinavia, too, especially Norway. A
country with an extensive coast, Norway had many people who made their living from
the sea. When they came here they mainly fished with gillnetters. Herb Larsen was a
long-time purse seiner. Cliff Melling was a gillnetter who fished the False Pass area in the
Aleutian Island chain. Brothers Joe and Mark Ludwig were still gillnetting as of 2010 and
are among the Bristol Bay, Alaska, fishermen. Some of the other gillnetters were Bob
Lundberg, Ron Ericksen, Peter Arnestad, and Cliff Thompson, who were longshoremen as
well as fishermen. Oscar Jensen was a gillnetter who was known for his speed and skill in
making nets. Dick Almvig, also from an Everett fishing family, recalled in a 2008 interview
that in the days of cotton nets, nobody could piece them together faster than Jensen.
“He was a tough guy and so quick with his hands,” said Almvig. “It was unbelievable how
he produced nets. There was no one else like him.”
Some gillnetters shared the Scandinavian and Slavic heritage. Fishermen Guy and Paul
Piercey, sons of Jim and Barbara Piercey, have the blood of Aadnevig (Olsen) from
their father, and of the Croatians — Martinis, Mardesich and Marincovich — from
their mother.
Setting the Scene
And so a thriving Everett waterfront commercial fishing industry became a vital part
of the community. The fleet was moored at the piers and docks south of the North
Waterfront along Port Gardner Bay (currently the Port of Everett’s shipping terminals).
The fleet fished locally and in Alaska. Men at first worked for skippers on other boats and
if they were prudent they could make good money and eventually buy their own boats.
Plenty of boat builders in the Puget Sound area were eager to construct vessels for them.
Catching fish involved several methods. Trollers worked with hooks and poles hanging
from the back of the boat with plugs and spoon lures to catch salmon. Long-lining
employed a line with an anchor at one end and a buoy on the other. On the line were
baited hooks. When the line was dropped to the ocean bottom to soak for about a day,
halibut and cod would take the bait. Trawlers and draggers were also used for fishing;
however, most of the commercial fishing vessels moored on the Everett harbor used
nets. Purse seiners and gillnetters were used primarily for catching salmon.

Purse Seining
Purse seiners, said to
have originated on the
Dalmatian coast, were
larger than gillnetters. A
seine is a large fishing net
that hangs vertically in the
water by attaching weights
along the bottom edge and
floats, or corks, along the
top. The weights pull the
net down, while the corks
give control and buoyancy.
Boats about 50 feet long
and equipped for seine
fishing are called seiners.
Along the bottom of the
net, or seine, are bridles,
upon which rings hang. A hemp rope (made of nylon in later years) is passed through
the rings and drawn together similar to a purse with a drawstring, thus the name purse
seiner. When it purses, it prevents fish from escaping. Once fish are trapped, the net is
pulled toward the boat. The fish are either lifted out with a small net, taken out with a
larger dip net known as a brailer, or the whole net is brought in. In modern times the
catch might be pumped out.
Setting the net is a short process. It can be done in as little as five minutes or as many as
20. The early nets were about 250 to 300 fathoms (a fathom is six feet) long. Each purse
seiner carries a smaller flat-bottomed craft, 16 to 18 feet in length, called a skiff or dory
and until about 1930 it was rowed by hand. After deciding where the fish are likely to be,
two men in the skiff haul one end of the net out from the seiner. Then the seiner makes
a wide half-circle around the fish. When the two vessels meet, one man gets back into
the seiner with one end of the net. The skiff then pulls away from the seiner to keep the
net tight. Usually the fishermen can see the fish circling in the net. Understanding the
changing tides is an absolute necessity; altered currents confuse the fish and they move
into the net. If the fish appear to be reaching safety, they are scared into the net with
a plunger on the end of a long pole. The net is held in position against the current for
A purse seiner strings
a net, or seine, that,
when pulled toward
the boat, traps fish.
Photo courtesy
Susie and Jon Borovina
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Commercial Fishing

A skiff is launched
from every purse
seiner. The seine is
attached to the end
of this skiff, which is
then used to pull the
net out and, finally,
purse the net around
the catch.
Photo courtesy
Kathy Padovan Wilson and
Patricia Lee Padovan Myers
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Commercial Fishing
varying lengths of time until the purse is tightened.
As the purse line is drawn taut the fish are trapped in
the net. The rings are pulled out of the water first and
the rest of the net follows. A power block, or possibly
a drum, is used to bring in the net. In the meantime
the skiff pulls back away from the net.
In the early days, strips of each net were sewn
together by hand with heavy twine using handcarved
needles and were preserved with oil or tar
to protect them from the saltwater. The seiner had
a turntable on which the net was folded. As the
turntable rotated, it permitted the seine to play out from either side or stern ensuring
it didn’t tangle. During a set it was necessary to watch out for hazards on the ocean
floor. Anything in the set is part of the catch. Fishermen brought up almost everything
imaginable. In a 2008 interview, Frank Zuanich recalled such an experience in the late
1960s. He brought up part of a wing from a sunken P-38 aircraft while fishing off Port
Susan on the Camano Island side in about 52 fathoms of water. Full of sand and mud, it
was too heavy to be brought to the surface. The stern was going down, so he enlisted
the help of a couple other fishing boats. They pulled it to the west side of Hat Island,
cut the net, and unloaded it in three or four fathoms. The P-38 had presumably crashed
a quarter-century earlier during World War II while on maneuvers out of Paine Field in
south Everett.
The brailer brailed, or hauled, the fish from the seine into hull storage. The brailer, a
large dip net with an attached handle, scooped up the fish. Fishermen used a picaroon
(a type of gaff) to get the fish into the brailer. This was extremely hard work, as each
fish weighed about five pounds. The men brailed the load into a tender, a larger vessel
that carried it to a receiving scow or cannery, where prices were predetermined. If the
cannery was close enough, the seiner took the fish directly there. They took the fish to
a tender or cannery daily so they would not have to ice them. It wasn’t unusual for the
crew to rise at four o’clock in the morning and get in place to set the net by five o’clock.
They might fish until nine o’clock at night, having set the net 10 to 15 times during the
day. After delivering their fish, the fisherman might not bed down until 11 p.m. It was
indeed exhausting work.

The seine was on the
stern deck, piled up on the
turntable of the boat. On
the rear of the turntable
was a power-driven roller
that assisted in pulling the
heavy net aboard. Beyond
the seine was the hatch
into which the catch was
dumped. Forward were
tow bitts, winch, mast and
a boom for handling the
brail (brailer), or dipper.
The deckhouse included
the wheelhouse, while
the crews’ quarters, galley, and engine room were below deck. Next to the boat, the
most important thing to the fisherman was his net. A full set of gear and many yards
of spare material from the previous years’ web were stowed prior to departure, so the
inevitable snag and handling tears could be repaired and fishing could go on with a
minimum of delay.
A purse seiner required about eight crewmen in the early days. If the vessel was
smaller, it might need only six. The shares were divided among the crewmen, usually
two shares for the boat and another two for the net. With advances in technology, the
number of hands on board necessary to man the boat decreased. The crew worked
for a share of the catch, and there were no hourly wages. The skipper was also the
banker — he kept records and knew how much each crewman had drawn against his
earnings right down to the nickel. He might have each man sign for his draws, and he
knew exactly how many pounds of fish had come in and how much they sold for. A man’s
word was as good as his handshake and that’s how business was handled. Later, as purse
seiner and gillnetter associations were formed, it was done by contract. At first many
members were relatives. The coveted jobs were filled by tough, strong men 23 to 38
years in age. Once aboard, the skipper was the boss — period.
A boom on the purse
seiner hauls (or brails)
the fish from the seine
into the hull storage.
Photo courtesy
Kathy Padovan Wilson and
Patricia Lee Padovan Myers
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Morris-built
gillnetters at
14th Street Dock
Photo courtesy
Morris family collections
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Commercial Fishing
Gillnetting
A gillnetter is a smaller vessel, usually operated by one man, also known as a gillnetter.
The opportunity for the huge catch doesn’t exist, but there are plenty of successful
gillnetters. Independent men choose this because it is less expensive and they can be
their own bosses. Unlike the group effort of purse seining, gillnetters could go out and
come back when they wanted, without worrying about a
crew. Some even had other jobs such as longshoring.
Gillnet is the name given to the net used to snare target
fish. The fish try to swim through the net and get stuck
in the mesh when their gills keep them from backing up.
Larger fish don’t get stuck and smaller fish swim right
through. Different sizes of mesh can be used for different
kinds of fish. Gillnets are typically 1,800 feet long for
local fishing, and 1,200 feet in Alaska. They are 60
meshes deep, with cork on the top, lead on the bottom,
and lanterns on the end. The net trails out behind the
boat and can be let out in 20 minutes. Then it’s a matter
of watching to see if the corks bob. The net can even be
detached and checked with spotlights to see how many
fish are snared. Finally, the net is pulled in, and the fish
are plucked from the net. In the early days it was pulled
in by hand. Later it was pulled in by a mechanized reel with a foot pedal. Reels were
illegal in Alaska so they used a power block. An advantage gillnetters have over purse
seiners is that once the fish are caught, they can’t get away. And while they are being
brought in, still more are being snared. A purse seiner runs the risk of the fish escaping
before the bottom string is pursed. Gillnets, even with cork and lead, were not as heavy.
While the purse seiners generally fished during the day, gillnetters fished at night. Joe
Barcott Jr., who later became an attorney, fished on his father’s gillnetter. He reflected in
a 2008 interview that nothing was as exciting as an orca whale surfacing nearby at night
in a silent drift and spouting through its blow hole.
Everett fishermen eventually fished for all kinds of fish from halibut to hake, but
initially it was salmon they were seeking in Puget Sound waters and in Alaska. The most
sought-after salmon were the Kings, or Chinooks, which included whites and tyees, and

Purse Seiners are typically about 50
feet long and drop a net that purses
to contain its catch.
Gillnetters are typically smaller
boats that use nets that snare
the fish by its gills in the net.
could reach 60 pounds in size. The smaller immature Chinooks were known locally as
blackmouths. Equally prized were the Sockeye, or red, salmon; the immature reds were
called bluebacks. Sockeye salmon were a prime commercial species. The Coho, or silver,
salmon were fast, acrobatic fighters reaching 14 to 16 pounds. The Pink salmon, a small
species, were sometimes called humpies because of their humped backs. Finally there
were the chum, or dog salmon, so-called because of their teeth. They were found near
fresh water and averaged 10 to 15 pounds. Pacific salmon are anatropous; that is, they
are hatched in fresh water, swim downstream to saltwater, attain more of their growth
there, and return to where they were hatched to spawn. Thus, they have very welldeveloped
homing instincts. This worked to the fishermen’s advantage because they had
some idea where they could expect to find the fish.
While there was much fishing in the Puget Sound area, the fishing that probably drew
the most attention and captured the imagination was in Alaska. Before the season
began, seine boats clustered in the Everett harbor, concentrating at Tract M near Piers
1 and 2 and the Everett Yacht Club. The crews were preparing them for the arduous
season’s work. In March, owners and crews began carefully checking over the boats
and powerful diesel motors. Some of the craft were practically rebuilt, planks and stays
replaced, and motors overhauled. Making the web of the seine ready for the season’s
work was one of the big pre-sailing jobs for the skipper and his crew. Repairs when the
boats were at sea were costly—materials were far away and time was lost from the
season’s fishing. On May 1, the crews were called together and the final work on the
boats completed. Nets were repaired and new seines assembled. It was hard and heavy
work, but it was neither as hard nor as heavy as that which would be undertaken when
the fishing season opened. But there was a romance the men liked, and the thrill of the
challenge of the sea.
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Commercial Fishing
“Getaway Day” in May or June was a major event, with flags flying from the mastheads
and air horns blasting as the seiners pulled away from their mooring places alongside
Fishermen’s Packing dock or Pier 1, near the south end of the Everett harbor. Families
crowded the docks to say goodbye and wish them a safe and successful trip. Some folks
from town accompanied the fleet four miles west to Gedney Island (commonly known
as Hat Island), dropped the anchor and had a big cookout with whole pigs or lambs. Off
Hat Island, boats might be lashed together for one big farewell party. At the day’s end
the boats pulled away for the northern waters. Often, Ed Taylor in his yacht Faun, Otto
Johnson in his yacht Hobby, and Joe Dragovich in his seiner Congress, accompanied the
northbound seiners to Hat Island to help bring back to the mainland those who weren’t
going on the trip. As the years passed, Getaway Day wasn’t as elaborate. Some, such as
the Leeses, liked to slip out quietly with a prayer that all would go well.
Seventy-two hours later the fishing boats were in Ketchikan. The inland route through
the rock-ribbed and sharp-reefed passage was frequently fog-bound. At Icy Straits they
turned west for the long sail across the open, storm-swept Gulf of Alaska to False Pass.
There they crossed between the mainland and the Aleutian chain into Bristol Bay and
the Bering Sea. In the 1920s it took a month to reach the area. Without any means of
communications or electronic gear, they were on their own, dependent on the stars, a
compass, crude charts, and a lead line for determining depth.
The fishermen had to figure out where the fish would be. They had to think like a fish, so
they watched the tide. If several fishing boats came into an area known to have a lot of
fish, the fishermen had a gentlemen’s agreement that they would take turns. Sometimes
fishermen would cut in line instead of waiting their turn. Then it was fair game to “cork”
them — that is, set your net in front of theirs and get the fish. The competition was real
and corking was part of that. It was often accompanied by nasty comments or a hurled
tomato. Sometimes they’d cork in fun if there weren’t any fish.
In the early years, from about 1910 to 1930, the men fished with no radar, no radio, and
no power rolls or power blocks on board. Until 1930, skiffs were rowed by hand.
Wood stoves were used for cooking. There was no refrigeration, so the boat’s stores
included a barrel of flour, canned food, sides of beef hanging from the rigging and live
chickens in the skiff. The beef was heavily wrapped in coarse cloth and then allowed
to age during the trip. The men carved a little off each day. When it was gone, they’d
move on to the smoked hams, smoked lambs etc. They ate fish four evenings a week,

ut didn’t get tired of it since they prepared different dishes: stew, bouillabaisse, fried,
broiled and baked. This included salmon, flounder, sole, and cod. The cook was a crew
member who also helped on the nets. A good cook knew to use a lot of garlic.
In those days the fishing industry consisted of almost all Slavs, except
for a few Norwegians and a great camaraderie was held among the
fishermen. Original purse seiners were small, 45-foot-long wooden
vessels built all around Puget Sound. They had one little house on the
deck which was the steering house; some had a place where the captain
slept. The engine room, living quarters, and mess hall were down below
and open to each other. August Mardesich remembered that after a
day’s work his father would bring his boat into a cluster of Croatian
boats that were tied together. This provided a forum where men told
stories, debated, offered advice, and shared tales of their day’s activities.
They were fiercely independent, yet showed ethnic loyalty in this island
of vulnerable fishermen, where a man’s word was his soul and his
handshake a contract.
“When the wine
ran out, the crew
used the barrels
to make wine
with raisins and
water. The raisins
were later thrown
overboard. The
standing joke was
that the fish got
drunk and were
easier to catch.
”
Komiza on the island of Vis, besides being a fishing center, was famous
for its wine making. The fishermen had barrels of wine in the below-deck
storage area, known as the hatch, and they tied 50-gallon barrels on each
side of the bow. Wine was drunk with lunch and dinner, and they had
other liquors aboard, but heavy drinking was not common on the boat.
Also aboard were 60 boxes of raisins. When the wine ran out, the crew used the barrels
to make wine with raisins and water. The raisins were later thrown overboard. The
standing joke was that the fish got drunk and were easier to catch.
In August of each year, their work in the northern seas completed, the fleet returned
south for fall fishing with the hundreds of purse seine boats that operated each year in
Washington waters. Whistles sounded again when the boats returned, but without the
celebration of Getaway Day. Fishermen were glad to get off their boats and spend time
with their families; the parties would come later.
After a short rest from their Alaskan trip, the fishermen worked until November along
Cape Flattery, the fishing banks of Puget Sound, around the San Juan Islands, and even
in Everett’s Port Gardner Bay, to fill their nets with silvery salmon. While working on
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Commercial Fishing
the Sound they often stayed out about a week and sold their catches to the fresh fish
markets and the canneries of the Northwest. A few fished for sardines off the California
coast during the winter months.
The “five-month weekend” between the salmon seasons allowed the fishermen to
work on boats and net repairs. In the old days they used wooden needles to mend the
nets. Boats might have dry rot or other problems and go into dry dock for the repair.
Cotton nets were dipped in tar to preserve them during the season of saltwater fishing.
Fishermen will tell you that the smell of tarred nets, corks, and lines on a wooden boat
was unforgettable. Nylon nets, Styrofoam corks, and synthetic lines, used later, endured
better, but didn’t have the aroma. During the months at home men overhauled their
boats and gear. Almost every small boat mooring in Everett sheltered several of these
small crafts. About 100 were purse seiners, and six were tenders that carried the fish
from the receiving scows and boats to the cannery.
Closely related to the fishing industry was the local canning industry. In the 1920s,
Everett Packing Corporation and American Packing Company were located south of
the North Waterfront on the piers near the Tract M home of the fishing fleet. In 1928,
Fishermen’s Packing Corporation was organized by Puget Sound fishermen so they were
guaranteed a cannery would take their catch. They purchased Everett Packing Company
on Pier 1 near the fleet and operated from that location. Of the 76 purse seiner founders
of Fishermen’s Packing, 11 were from Everett. Tacoma, Bellingham, and Seattle all had
more members in Fisherman’s Packing. It was valuable to the city for the cannery to be
located in Everett and over time the co-op grew to 225 members.
Crabbing
Some individuals found a special niche in catching seafood. Jack Moskovita, also known
as “The Crab King,” was such an example. A familiar figure on the Everett waterfront,
Jack followed his father’s footsteps in the Puget Sound catching Dungeness, the sweetest
of all crabs. He used crab traps, or pots, baited with dogfish livers, herring, cod, and
pollock. The traps were lowered to the bottom, marked with buoys and checked daily.
It might take 40 or so mighty pulls with his arms to get them up. (In present-time, a
motorized line hauler is used to bring up crab pots.) He then culled the crabs, sorted

them by size and placed them
in containers. Moskovita sold
them at sea or out of his panel
truck with “The Crab King”
painted on the sides. This was a
small operation compared with
salmon fishing, but in October
1958 he came in with a big load
of crabs—35 dozen—the take of
the 100 pots he was operating
off Hat Island.
The Crab King’s boat was his
throne, but he also had a
shop he called “The Building”
where he sold engine parts,
propellers, and other tools of
the trade. At a time when it was
not common, his wife, Louise,
worked side by side with him
on their gillnetter, baiting and
checking traps. In November
1958, Moskovita towed the 45foot
Sheran, which belonged to
Ernie Nelson of Marysville, in
from a point near Jetty Island.
A deadhead had knocked a
hole in its bow. This was just
one of many examples of how
fishermen often answered the call of distress by others.
Fish Processing and the 1930s
By the 1930s the commercial fishing industry was well entrenched in Everett and
around Puget Sound. In the summer of 1930, more than 800 men who wrested
their living from the sea and more than 100 purse seiners, tenders, and scows operating
Jack Moskovita, The
Crab King
Photo courtesy
The Herald
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Commercial Fishing

Fish cannery
in Everett
Photo courtesy
Jack C. O’Donnell collection
99
Commercial Fishing
for Fishermen’s Packing Corporation, expanded their fishing range toward the ocean in
a search of even more fish. Times were getting tougher as the Great Depression took
hold. Nick Mardesich often left part of his catch on Pier 1 so the poor in town could eat.
He felt that it was necessary to give something back to the community, part of the ethic
woven into the fishing culture.
In 1936, those going to Alaska from Everett with their seiners were Tony Mardesich,
Silverland; Vince Martinis, Frostland; Paul Martinis, Iceland; Frank Barcott Jr., Lemes; and
John Mardesich, Tatoosh. Prominent at that time among Everett fishermen were Lee
Makovich, president of Fishermen’s Packing Corporation, and Tony Mardesich, the first
of the purse seine fishermen to settle in Everett. At that time there might only be a half
dozen boats in the whole of westward Alaska and they were from Everett or Tacoma.
The industry was then congregated west of the Great Northern Railway depot at Tract
M, between Piers 1 and 2 near the old Yacht Club. The Port’s storage facilities here

were used more frequently by the purse seine fleet for winter storage. Boats were
hauled up to dry and undergo repairs to prepare them for returning to saltwater. With
the success of the fishing industry here, the area was crowded. That led Paul Martinis,
Nick Mardesich, and others to appear in spring 1937 before the Port Commission with
a proposition for a net shed — storage for the seines and other fishing gear. The Port
agreed to move the fishing operation north to Tract O.
A major setback for the Everett fishing industry was Fishermen’s Packing Corporation’s
decision in December 1937 to relocate their operations to Anacortes, which had made
a favorable offer to the corporation. In addition, Anacortes was closer to the fishing
areas. This proximity could mean a savings of $5,000 in getting a tender to the cannery.
Many feared the exodus of the cannery might also mean the loss of the fleet. Others
said it wouldn’t adversely affect those involved in the fishing industry here. The women
— finest in the Northwest — that worked at the cannery could be housed in Anacortes
during the canning season. The Port of Everett was also making it attractive to moor here
with more space and a new net drying and storage shed at Tract O. The reception that
Everett had accorded the fishermen would justify staying here. Paul Martinis and Nick
Mardesich led a futile fight to keep the cannery in Everett; early in 1938 the move was
made. Fishermen’s Packing Corporation (previously Everett Packing Company in the old
nail works building) was no longer a presence in Everett. The old building was dismantled
in 1940.
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Commercial Fishing

101
Commercial Fishing
A CHANGING INDUSTRY
Waterfront Improvements for the Fishing Industry
Other action was taking place at the same time farther north on the Everett waterfront
that would positively affect the fishing industry. Congressional funding was used to
remove silt in the basin south of 14th Street Dock. The sediment was pumped over to
Jetty Island, thus creating a deep harbor. Also, the federal government issued a contract
for removal of shoaling in the upper harbor. The Port had used dredged material from
the harbor improvement to fill in the Norton Avenue trestle and expected to push
this work to ultimate completion, providing the community with a fine waterfront
thoroughfare serving existing businesses and attracting others. Dovetailing with the
above was the opening on February 1, 1938, of the new $60,000 Norton Avenue viaduct
over the Great Northern railroad tracks at 22nd Street. The substantial structure would
be a boon to waterfront traffic and fire protection. For several years vehicles, including
fire trucks, had been using a rough detour and a grade crossing, after condemnation and
destruction of the old timber span at the site. Now a new concrete, steel, and treated
timber bridge replaced the old. Later that year the Port secretary was instructed to call
on the District Engineer and ask the Public Works Administration to dredge the proposed
settling basin at 14th Street Dock.
World War II, the Port of Everett, and Commercial Fishing
The local commercial fishing industry changed during the 1940s. Salmon fishing
along the Aleutian Islands was curtailed during World War II because of the Japanese
presence; they were lobbing shells into Dutch Harbor and setting up bases elsewhere in
the Aleutian chain. The war did bring some technological improvements to the fishing
industry: navigation aids such as fathometers, sonar depth-sounders, and radar were
improved and compacted. However, the advancements forced fishermen to invest
more in their boats and equipment. Just as the boats, gear, and means of operation
had become more functional, the farewell parties changed as well. Now they were held
dockside rather than afloat.

The biggest effect the war had on the Everett
commercial fishing industry occurred in 1942
when the War Powers Act claimed Tract O
for a proposed U.S. Naval Shipyard. The Navy
controlled the land, which included the fishing
boat moorage and new net shed, until January
1959. The Port controlled the land until the
Naval Homeport was built in the early 1990s.
In July 1943, mitigation for the fishermen’s loss
was announced. Word was received from U.S.
Representative Henry Jackson and U.S. Senator
Mon Wallgren that the war production board
had approved priority application of the Everett
Port Commission to provide new moorage and
net sheds in the 14th Street area. Contractors
were notified at once, the contracts having
already been negotiated.
The Puget Sound Bridge and Dredge Company of Seattle held the contract for the
dredging and the bulkhead at the new site south of 14th Street and west of Norton
Avenue. This recently acquired Port of Everett property, which had been listed as tax
title lands by the city and county, would require the dredging of an estimated 146,000
cubic yards. The American Pile Driving Company of Everett would handle actual
construction of the bulkhead for the dredging company. Carl Tschudin and Associates
of Seattle would move the old Ferry Baker sawmill building from the old mill site to
the new port tract; it would be used as a net shed. Port Commission Secretary Weborg
estimated that the project would cost $90,000 without the mooring installations which
would be done from time to time.
The work promised relief to the Everett fishing fleet in early fall of 1943. The Port was
awarded $233,500 for facilities taken over by the U.S. Navy. Continuing its policy of
proceeding with a comprehensive program of port development as finances permitted,
the Port of Everett would expend $100,000 on its new facilities for the fishing industry
just south of the 14th Street dock. A net shed, dock, apron, and other appurtenances
would emerge for a modern moorage. The Port was also acquiring land known as the
Baxter property, lying immediately north of the 14th Street trestle and west of the lands
now owned by the Port at the intersection of Norton Avenue and the trestle. The Baxter
This photograph,
probably taken to
capture the image
of an extremely low
tide, also provides
a good view of the
fishing fleet and the
net sheds.
Photo courtesy
Port of Everett
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Commercial Fishing

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Commercial Fishing
land would be used for filling the Norton Avenue trestle. Timbers from the old trestle
would be used for construction of the Port’s fill north of the 14th Street fill. There was
also talk of putting blacktop on Norton Avenue.
After being shunted from pillar to post since the government took over the old net
shed site on Tract O, by the summer of 1944 the Everett fleet again had a home in
which to store its nets and other gear. It was the commodious new net shed structure
on the new fill at 14th Street. Adjoining it to the east was the new fish processing plant
of the Bozeman Canning Company, a two-story-high building with concrete floors and
a footprint of 58 by 115 feet. Both of the buildings were mill-type construction with
iron roofs and sidings covered with a combination of asphalt and asbestos coating.
Meanwhile, the Puget Sound Bridge and Dredge Company was completing the last of the
rock rip-rap and channel digging.
The net shed building, with a footprint of 90 by 320 feet, was called one of the best
and largest of its kind on the Sound, and it had every possible facility for easy and quick
storage for nets and fishing gear of purse seine boats. The shed held 20 stalls, each 16
by 90 feet and two stories tall, with provisions for hanging and storing nets — plenty big
enough to store a lot of equipment, hang long nets, and refurbish battered gear during
the off-season. The stalls were numbered west to east with no Number 13. Steel sheets
that were later painted by H.O. Seiffert, an Everett manufacturing supply company,
acted as walls. Large doors were located on the south side facing the dock and water
while windows provided light on the north side. The sheds were just a few feet from
the docks; it was easy to tie up a fishing boat almost right next door. The sheds were
equipped with an automatic sprinkler system, a modern lighting system, and eventually
a fire alarm system.
The purse seine stalls were first leased by John Borovina, Vince Bogdanovich, Frank
Barcott, John Bacoka, J. Christensen, Joe Dragovich, Nick Joncich, Nick Koster, Albert
Leese, Paul Martinis, Tony Martinis, Vince Martinis, John Mardesich, Nick Mardesich,
Tony Morosevich, Jo Mardesich, W.G. Stanfield, Roy White and A.A. Zuanich.
The Port and Fishermen’s Association agreed on a rental fee of $80 per year that
included moorage for the lessee’s boat. The Port also charged a dollar a month per
shed for electricity.
Eventually, the Port furnished a night watchman, day caretaker services, water, trash
removal, insurance, and repairs on the building, floats, and wharves. Although only a

young boy at the time, Paul V. Martinis (Freeland Paul) remembered the move from
Tract O to the net sheds. They simply put everything on his father’s seiner and took it
over to put in the net shed. He remembered the fascination he had growing up at the
net sheds: it was “a Tom Sawyer place to be.” For the two or three weeks leading up
to the summer salmon opening, it was like a carnival with all the sheds open, crews
working on nets and other gear, and painting the boats, getting groceries, and doing
everything necessary to prepare for the season.
The Port’s new dock adjacent to the sheds offered purse seiner moorage for the first
time. Previously, they would have to go into dry storage during the off-season. The first
use of the dock was made by Nick Mardesich’s Sunset on his return from an annual
fishing trip off False Pass. The dock had more than 500 feet of space and the water was
14 feet deep at low tide. The Port still needed to dredge the channel south of 14th Street
to provide deeper water for the fishing fleet now operating from the new facilities. In
January 1945, the Port agreed that all parts of the project south of 14th be held for a
fishermen’s and small boat storage and repair site, subject to lease.
By May of each year, the fishermen’s net shed area at 14th Street Dock was a busy place,
with the three Martinis brothers—Paul, Vince, and Tony—finishing work on their seiners
in preparation for trips to the Far North. Meanwhile, other fishermen kept their gear in
shape for the beam trolling operations in the local waters. Within a week, the Martinis
brothers would take their three seiners to Alaskan waters in search of salmon. They were
the only Everett fishermen who went to the Aleutians the summer of 1945. Most of the
fishermen were concentrating on local dogfish. The Sunlight, owned by Nick Joncich
and operated by his son John, specialized in bringing in bottom fish for the extraction
of livers, which were valuable for medicinal purposes. Joncich planned to continue
bottom fishing until August when he would leave for California and the sardine fishing
operations during the fall and winter months.
Port goals for 1948 included completing the 14th Street earthen fill, enlarging the
moorage facilities at 14th Street Terminal, installing public telephones at 14th Street,
and building a shower and locker room facility for all purse seiner crew members who
didn’t live in town. By 1949, because of the demand for more net sheds, it was decided
that preference be given to owners of boats who lived in the immediate vicinity and
moored their boats in Everett.
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105
Commercial Fishing
Tragedies at Sea
Fishing was always a dangerous occupation—the sea could suddenly turn on a fisherman
at any given time. Accidents and losses happened. In the 1940s, the Mardesich families
suffered losses. On September 13, 1945, the 60.5 by 15-foot Dorothy Joan went down
about 55 miles off the coast of Yaquina Bay, Oregon. Five of the six men aboard lost their
lives. They were Peter J. Mardesich and John Mardesich, brothers and co-owners of the
purse seiner; John Frank Bakalich, also of Everett; and two crewmen from Aberdeen.
The lone survivor was Henry (Hank) Weborg, whose wife, Barbara, was a sister of
the Mardesich brothers. Peter and John were the sons of pioneer Everett fisherman
Anton “Old Tony” Mardesich. Years later, Weborg, who rarely if ever talked about the
experience, consented to an oral interview by Tony and Winnie Martinis and Ellen
(Martinis) Stormo about the disaster. At one point in the interview he had to stop to
control his emotions. Weborg’s daughter Dorothy later transcribed the tapes.
Weborg always believed the boat sank due to its conversion to a tuna boat. A huge
bait tank on the deck made the lightly loaded boat top heavy. If the boat was caught
in a swell it might roll over. The boat tipped on its starboard side and he heard a big
kathump. His brothers-in-law Johnnie and Pete were sleeping in the pilothouse but
must have gotten out because the deck lights were on. The skiff they were holding onto
drifted away from the Dorothy Joan. Weborg was thrown from his bunk onto the engine
room floor. Disoriented, he somehow got up and got out. The boat floated for a while
but he never did see Johnnie or Pete. Weborg and the other three crewmen hung onto
the top of the little boat. Weborg was the engineer of the pilothouse that had broken
loose. Big swells capsized the purse seiner. By this time it was nearly midnight and the
first rescue boat didn’t see the men hanging onto the small boat. One of the men from
Aberdeen tried to swim for help. The other drifted off the skiff and also disappeared.
Frankie Bakalich slipped away and Weborg saved him, but finally he went under and
was gone. By daylight Weborg was spotted and rescued. When they reached safety at
Newport, Oregon, the underwear that had been given to him by his rescuers was soaked
with blood. Weborg, who was sick for a year afterward and had nightmares the rest of
his life, died in 2002 at age 91.
On June 10, 1949, less than four years after the Dorothy Joan tragedy, the Sunset,
sister ship of the Dorothy Joan and owned by Nick Mardesich and his sons, went down
in Alaska. Lost in the accident were pioneer skipper Nick Mardesich, his oldest son

Tony Mardesich, Vincent Vlastelica of Everett, and two other crewmen. Surviving the
disaster were Nick’s three younger sons August, Nick Jr., and Joseph, and nephew Anton
Mardesich. In an interview in 2000 with Sharon Boswell of the Washington State Oral
History Program, August Mardesich recounted his memory of the incident.
They were going into the cannery by the Aleutians — it was stormy with wind blowing
and getting worse. They were anchored in a small cove with little protection so they
pulled out, bound for a better place, and the boat rolled over. Down below, the
water was pouring in. The men wore life preservers, but not survival suits. Everything
happened so fast there was no time to prepare. There were no life boats and the skiff
was on the other side of the net. August’s father was hit, but they were able to drag him
from the pilothouse. They also dragged out his brother. The men grabbed onto things
like hatch covers that would float. Just as boats were coming to rescue them, August’s
brother went down and drowned. August found a timber off the boat and hung onto
it. The water was so cold that when he was pulled out of the sea his rescuers had to
beat him to revive him. First on the scene was the Johnny B, captained by John Bacoka,
formerly of Everett. The mishap was near False Pass; William Leese remembered seeing
crosses marking the site on this first trip to Alaska aboard John Lucin’s Johnny L in 1951.
New Technology Improves Fishing Safety
The 1950s saw more innovations that made a fisherman’s job a little easier. One such
invention was the power block. Envisioned in the 1930s, it didn’t come into being until
the 1950s. Mounted on the stern, it was like a large pulley with an aluminum shell and
hard rubber sheave. The central rotating part hauled in the heavy purse seines with their
catch. The advent of the power block revolutionized fishing. Prior to this it was necessary
to pull in the nets by hand. Thus, some fishermen were known for their “Popeye”
forearms. Some old timers shunned the power block because having the net overhead
often dropped water on them, but most boats had one by 1960.
Another such invention was the drum, a large cylinder on the boat. The net was wrapped
around the drum and could be rolled much faster than before. A set took only two-thirds
the time of a manual set. In Alaska, a block had to be used on boats 58 feet long or less.
It was a way to slow down technology and keep from over-fishing the waters. A drum
can be used in Puget Sound waters, making even fewer hands necessary.
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Commercial Fishing

107
Commercial Fishing
Another advancement was the use of synthetic materials. Nylon or rayon, which came
dyed, made much stronger nets that needed far less repairs. This eliminated dipping
them in hot tar and hanging them from the ceiling to dry. The boiler at the wharf was
no longer needed. Styrofoam and plastic replaced cork for the floats. All in all, the
improvements saved time and work. A purse seiner crew could be decreased from nine
men to five or six.
The Port of Everett and the 1950s Fishing Community
Fishing continued to be good. In 1950, the Martinis’ Dreamland and Freeland vessels
caught 100,000 sockeye in four days. The water and wind blowing in sent all the
Bristol Bay, Alaska, fish along the beach. In May 1955, men and ships that departed
from Fishermen’s Dock at 14th Street were Paul Martinis, Dreamland; Tony Martinis,
Freeland; Matt Martinis, Iceland; Andy Marincovich, St. Christopher; Matt Marincovich,
Wonderland; John Borovina, Emblem; and Tony Mirosevich, Western Maid. George
Gregory’s 38-foot purse seiner named Bunny G. was repowered with a General Motors
diesel engine. It had all the seining equipment usually carried by 55-foot “Alaska
limit” seiners. The craft could go 8.5 knots and carry up to 2,500 average-size fish. An
Everett Herald article in the fall of 1956 noted that seven purse seiners which spent the
summer fishing for salmon at False Pass were back at their 14th Street Dock berths. Paul
Martinis Sr. had gone every year except one during World War II. The others were Tony
Martinis, Matt Martinis, Andy Marincovich, Matt Marincovich, Tony Mirosevich, and
Mike Borovina.
There were constant maintenance issues at the 14th Street Dock basin. Andy
Marincovich and Nick Barhanovich attended a Port meeting in 1953, concerned about
the shifting of the floor in their net sheds. In 1954, a rig collapsed under the weight
of a purse seine boat, the Johnny L, owned by John Lucin, raising more consternation.
Inspection indicated that the stringers were completely eaten by boring shipworms
known as teredos. Later that year, two untreated pilings snapped off in a storm. Once
again, the damage was caused by teredos. Teredo worms, often called the termites of
the sea, are marine bivalve mollusks. They were a recurring problem on the Everett
waterfront until pilings were treated and more boats were made of steel.
The Port was quick to respond to problems and to provide service at the net shed area.
Net shed rental fees were increased over the years. In 1951, net shed rentals were raised
from $185 to $250 a year. The Port furnished free moorage for one boat, free water,

and one light globe. If an occupant wanted more light or power, the Port would install a
meter and the lessee could pay directly to the Snohomish County Public Utility District
No. 1 (PUD). They also resurfaced the 13th Street extension. Port offices were moved
to the area in 1952. In December 1953, Joe Burrows appeared on behalf of the Everett
members of the Puget Sound Gillnetters Association to express thanks to the Port for
two blue stone tanks which had been turned over to the fishermen, and for the flood
lights erected in the parking lot. In 1954, the Port authorized blacktop on Fishermen’s
Dock. The same year major repairs were done to stop the slipping of the bulkhead
under the west end of the net shed building. The net shed insurable value in 1954
was $105,549.69.
In 1955, improvements were made to the watchman’s shack, toilet, tool warehouse,
Fishermen’s Wharf, Morris Wharf (which was immediately adjacent on 14th Street
Dock), the floats, and mooring piles. The Port also planned to redesign and expand the
moorage area, and find a place for a boat house. By 1956, the Port had replaced all of
the gillnet moorage facility and had a dock, called a line, extending 700 feet with 21
finger docks. It was booked to its full capacity of 44 gillnetters. The Port also expanded
the small boat moorage area and added a new float. There was also a proposal to
accommodate the trollers. More renovation of 14th Street was accomplished in 1957.
The following year Shaffer Construction built new restrooms and completed a repair job
on the step bulkhead holding the fill beneath the net sheds. Port workers placed decking
over the reconstructed bulkhead. Additional moorage slips were installed.
Improvements continued in the prosperous 1960s. In 1960, a waterline for washing out
boats and two drinking fountains were installed at Fishermen’s Dock, which was just
west of the net sheds. The pavement improvements on 13th Street had one unexpected
outcome. In October 1961, Everett Chief of Police G.H. Nelson read a letter informing
the Port Commission that the city was making an ordinance prohibiting speed racing
on public or private property. The city asked the Commissioners to post the stretch of
13th Street from Norton Avenue to the H.O. Seiffert property to the west as a no racing
zone, in order to stop the drag races being held there. Young men had found the twolane,
quarter-mile stretch perfect for testing their powerful bored-out V-8 engines with
four-barrel carburetors. The manager informed the Commissioners that a sign was being
placed in the area stating that the road was closed at 6 p.m. The Commission directed
the manager to put 20-mile-per-hour speed limit signs on 13th Street and to have
watchmen police the area.
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Commercial Fishing

Women in Fishing
By the 1970s women were playing a
larger role in the fishing industry. In
the early days fishing was entirely
a man’s domain. Eventually,
there were exceptions, like Louise
Moskovita who shared crab fishing
responsibilities on the boat with
her husband Jack. Occasionally, a
wife might accompany her husband
to Alaska on his gillnetter and then
fly home. Ruth Larsen often went
fishing with her husband Harold.
Chris Oldfield fished alongside her
husband Brad on their fishing boat
for all of the time they had it. Paul
V. Martinis had three daughters
who fished with him. August
Mardesich’s daughters often fished
with him. For a few seasons Mary
(Barhanovich) Sievers, daughter
of Nick Barhanovich, was a crew
member on his purse seiner.
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Commercial Fishing
Early in the 1960s the Port was looking at additional moorage for
purse seiners. Thirty boats could be accommodated in 16 stalls, but
it was desirable to have one stall for each boat. Work continued on
the bulkheads at 14th Street Dock. By the end of 1963 the Port was
ready to undertake its biggest project in history at the 14th Street
Moorage Basin. It would increase capacity from 550 to 1,040 boats.
Also in the works was transferring all remaining Pier 1 moorage to
14th Street. In 1965, the Port decided to phase out the old Everett
Yacht Club basin with all of the boats going to 14th Street. The Port
also considered building a new Everett Yacht Club building at 14th
Street. The new moorage in the early part of 1965 was generating
more than $91,000 a year at the 14th Street Basin, now called
Everett Yacht Basin, and was nearly 100 percent occupied.
Commercial Fishing in the 1960s and 1970s
The commercial fishing industry was healthy. In June 1967, it was
noted that the forest of masts that marked the favorite docking
place for Everett’s fishing fleet was gone. The purse seiners tied up
on both sides of Fishermen’s Dock were now spread from Puget
Sound to Alaska, the tall-masted trollers were out on the Pacific,
and the gillnetters moved in and out with the hours of darkness.
The dock was a constantly changing scene. Paul Martinis Sr. hadn’t
gone to Alaska since 1960, but most of the other regulars did.
By 1969, only Paul Martinis Jr. in the Dreamland was headed to
Alaska’s Aleutian chain. It was the first year Andy Marincovich
didn’t go to Alaska. Fishing was slowing down with fewer bound
for Alaska.
The 1970s saw more improvements in the Fishermen’s Dock area.
A new hoist was constructed in the gillnet area and American Pile
Driving Company built a new gillnet dock. It accommodated 26
new berths for the 85 boats homeported there. The Port installed a
new waterline and electrical system that included metered power
for each berth. The gillnet sheds were set up in the Morris boat

uilding, which later became known as the Mall Building. They were located about
halfway down the building in the raised portion. Each storage area was two feet by four
feet, surrounded with chicken wire, and had a lock. Gillnetters didn’t need the space the
purse seiners did. Later, the gillnetters’ storage area was moved into the purse seiners’
net shed building. By this time there were about 40 slots and 15 purse seiners.
The Port spelled out the uses of the net sheds. The purpose of net shed was to store and
maintain fishing gear, webbing, netting, and other equipment used by the commercial
fishermen. Rules called for no smoking, no gasoline, no cars, no testing of motors, no
solvents, no paint thinners, no glass jugs, no blow torch use, no fuses over 20 amperes,
no junk like paint cans or rags, no storage of anything flammable, and no parking or
storing of equipment in front of the net shed doors. Lessees were to keep the area clean,
and clean up shavings daily. Drums of oil for soaking wire must be covered. Spilled oil
and paint must be cleaned up promptly. The Port could go into the sheds for regular fire
department checks. A stall occupant had to have a commercial fishing boat moored at
the Port.
The Boldt Decision
Everything in the local commercial fishing industry changed in February 1974 with
United States vs. Washington, better known as the Boldt Decision for United States
District Court Judge George Boldt, who heard the case. The decision, often called “a bolt
from the blue,” was the final chapter in the definition of tribal and other citizens’ fishing
rights. The federal government sued the state of Washington to honor the treaties.
Judge Boldt ruled that the tribes of the country and the state, under treaty rights
that dated to the 1850s, had the right to harvest 50 percent of the fish, and that nontreaty
fishermen could take the same amount. While members of the tribes felt what
rightfully was theirs was finally returned to them, non-native fishermen saw it as unfair
and a giveaway to the Native Americans. It caused a rather small local Native American
commercial fishing industry to grow, and threatened the existing industry to its very
foundations. Fishing was never the same after the Boldt Decision. The Native Americans
here and in Alaska didn’t create much competition before the decision. After this the
tribal fishermen played a significant role in the commercial fishing industry.
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Commercial Fishing
The Beginning of the End
By the mid 1980s the fishing industry was in decline. Matt Marincovich once commented
that every year, the boats got more complicated and every year the fish got scarcer. The
downward spiral continued through the 1990s and into the turn of the century. Everett
residents owned 32 fishing vessels in 2000. Once a beehive of activity, the Fishermen’s
Dock had little going on as of 2010. Some purse seiners and gillnetters remained at the
dock. However, the fleet was but a shadow of its glory days. There were only a few boats
compared to the large fleet from decades gone by. At the time of the Boldt decision, the
tribes didn’t have enough commercial boats to catch all they were allowed. Today, they
have a sophisticated fleet and support staff.
While the Boldt decision had a major impact, many other factors contributed to the
demise of the local commercial fishing industry. First, of course, were the dwindling
fish runs. Everything was scarcer, especially the premium salmon species. One reason
was overfishing. The Department of Fisheries was not a resource manager; its charter
was to only manage the fishing industries. In 2008, the salmon declines necessitated
reducing the number of fishing days each season and the number of fish that could be
kept. Another reason for lower runs was the deterioration of the traditional spawning
grounds. Urban sprawl, clearcut logging and the use of fertilizer were among the factors
that have compromised the streams and rivers to which the salmon return.
Another problem for the industry came from the advent of farmed salmon. Salmon
raised in net pens in British Columbia, Norway, and Chile sent prices in a downhill spiral.
In the 1970s and 1980s, troll-caught Chinook were selling for $4 to $5 a pound. By the
mid-1990s the same fish sold for only $1.60 a pound, because of the competition from
the farm fish.
The advance in fishing industry technology was a double-edged sword; the job was
less taxing, but it made it easier to overfish. Too many commercial fishing licenses
spurred a governmental program of buying back licenses. Before buybacks, 1,200 purse
seiners and 400 gillnetters were registered in the state. In 2006, there were 202 and 75,
respectively. Another problem was the expense of the industry. Costs continued to rise
for food, fuel, and insurance.
Everett lacked local processors in later years. The last of these was gone by the 1990s.
Other support businesses for the fleet had moved as well. Treaties with Canada also

educed the size of the commercial catch. Still another problem was the difficulty
securing reliable crews. Once, crewmen eagerly lined up for a chance to go fishing, and
stood to make a lot money in a good season. In recent years, there was little guarantee
they would make enough. What used to be a coveted job for college students was no
longer the case. Crews were paid less as catches were uncertain. Finally, the increasing
emphasis on pleasure boating was reducing the space for the fishing fleet. The Everett
Yacht Basin, the traditional home of the fishing fleet, was transitioning to a pleasure
boat marina.
A comeback for the Everett commercial fishing industry is clearly a long shot. However,
while fishing is not as economically significant to the economy as it was in the past,
fishermen here continued to participate in crabbing, and fishing for bottom fish, salmon
and other species. Some, like Everett fisherman Greg Elwood, were seeing a resurgence
as of 2008. Local gillnetters were making a modest comeback. There’s still the sheer
thrill of pulling in a full net on beautiful Puget Sound or in Alaska, and the good feeling
of knowing you’re feeding people. In 2010, commercial fishermen no longer have to
row the skiff to set nets or haul them in by hand. They have boat computers, global
positioning systems, and other electronic devices to make things easier. They have their
cell phones to keep in touch.
The net sheds were a physical sign of a strong fishing industry that had dwindled to
almost nothing in 2010. It wasn’t always that way. In the heyday of fishing, before the
1974 Boldt decision, the shed doors were wide open and the place was buzzing with
activity. Five or six men were inside working, even in the winter. The skipper was nearby
at the dock working on the boat. Some used the shipyard next door, taking the boats up
the marine railway, also called “the ways.” There was much work and upkeep; something
always required work, be it a pump, motor, or net problem. The nets were hung and the
entire crew worked on them, patching holes. It was expensive keeping a purse seiner in
good working order and any work you could do yourself helped. Some of the men could
do almost anything. Jim Leese was one of them, with his welding and woodworking
skills. George Schindler could build almost anything.
By the turn of the century the net sheds weren’t the busy places they had been, but they
still had the unique and colorful culture that had developed during their 50-plus years
of history. Clearly the sheds were a social center — a men’s club where those who loved
the sea could gather. It was where fishermen went on their days off. They would meet
after the season to discuss who caught what and where. If a shed door was open they
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Commercial Fishing

Co-author Lawrence
O’Donnell is shown in
front of the net sheds
at the time of their
demolition in April
2008.
Photo courtesy
Douglas C. O’Donnell
113
Commercial Fishing
would go in and perhaps help
a fellow fisherman with a job.
The men reworked their net
sheds to suit their purposes.
Some built lofts in them.
Tony Martinis Sr. devised a
screen door on his that hung
from the rafters; it covered
the entire doorway and
promoted air circulation. Paul
V. Martinis had a back door on
his. That made two openings
if there was a jam in the net.
In the summer it provided
welcome ventilation.
A great deal of camaraderie was developed at the net sheds. If newcomers learned how
to joke with the old-timers, they earned their respect. Nick Barhanovich was among
the many colorful personalities. He could be found sitting in his easy chair in front of his
shed Number 5 if no one else was around. As others showed up they’d sit around and
visit about the life and times on the fishing grounds. On a daily basis you might find Nick
playing pinochle with George Schindler, Babe Joncich, Dick Leese, and other fishing oldtimers.
The sheds were a man’s home away from home. Perhaps Nick might reminisce
about coming here from the town of Bol on the island of Brac in Croatia, or maybe the
time in 1957 when he caught 15,000 sockeye in one set. He used the money from that
tremendous catch toward building his family home on Rucker Avenue. Nick was an
expert at mending nets and often other fishermen came to him for repair work. When
he was done with the nets, they looked brand new.
The Demise of the Net Sheds
When it was announced in 2007 that the net sheds were to be demolished, it was a
sad time for the fishermen. Jim Leese was sorry to hear that the net sheds would be
removed; he and his brother had leased net sheds. Ross Utley had to get a trailer to
move everything out of his. Before the sheds were torn down, they were full of artifacts.
Some had makeshift “net shed sales.” There was a lot of nostalgia during the sales of
artifacts such as corks made of cedar. Jim Leese said that of his three generations worth

of treasures, some went to his garage, some went on a free pile and
some went to his sale. The items that sold the fastest were three sets
of skiff oars he had used as a kid.
Before the net sheds were razed, fisherman Jerry Solie noted the irony
of the sign posted “no fishing.” Demolition on the net sheds began the
week of March 31, 2008. The sheds are gone and Nick Barhanovich has
passed away, but his son Jerry still has the “5” that once hung on the
Barhanovich net shed door. It is a prized possession.
Fisherman’s Tribute Statue Born
The imminent razing of the net sheds was the impetus for a group to
form with the goal of erecting a memorial to the fishermen who had
been part of the cultural and economic development of Everett. The
effort was spearheaded by Kay Zuanich and Barbara (Martinis) Piercey.
They worried that in a few short years there would be nothing left of
the once-great fleet, and people would forget its impact on Everett.
They also felt that the history should be recorded while people who
could remember it in its early days were still around. They traveled 60
miles north to visit the fishing memorial in Bellingham, Washington,
and enlisted the help of Everett Port Commissioners Jim Shaffer, Don Hopkins and Phil
Bannan, and Port Director John Mohr. Jerry Barhanovich agreed to join the committee
as a spokesman for the group, creating a presentation to drum up interest. Margaret
(Separovich) Barhanovich, Jerry’s mother, made a sizeable financial contribution to the
project and they were off and running.
Others who threw their support to the project were Mary (Barhanovich) Sievers, John
Martinis Sr., Dr. Roland Hublou, Jim Leese Sr., Augie Mardesich, Paul Martinis, Butch
Barcott, Ken Olsen, Ron Rochon, Mike Benbow, and Marci Dehm. Erv and Frauna
(Barcott) Hoglund offered to host a fundraiser by providing a spaghetti feed at Our Lady
of Perpetual Help Parish’s Hensen Hall. The Hoglunds generously donated the meal and
their labor to help the cause. In the meantime, local artist Bernie Webber donated a
watercolor of the net sheds. Titled The Last Set, it depicted a purse seiner setting its net
in front of the net sheds. The symbolism was obvious; with no fish for a set, soon the
sheds would also be gone. Two hundred prints were made and sold at the fundraiser.
Fisherman’s Tribute
Photo courtesy
Port of Everett
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Commercial Fishing

Everett Fish Company
owner Steve Chase is
shown with some of
his employees in this
1951 photograph.
Photo courtesy
Otto Chase
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Commercial Fishing
Jerry Barhanovich designed and donated a
Fisherman’s Tribute Hat. They too were sold
at the spaghetti dinner. The co-chairs thought
that a book on fishing would be appropriate
and another good source of funds. RaeJean
Hasenoehrl donated her time and talent to author
the book, which was published by Arcadia Press.
Lloyd Weller, Cheryl Ann Healey, Katy Brekke, Julie
Albright, Melissa Holzinger, and Margaret Riddle
helped with the book. It was released in time for
Christmas 2007, and proceeds were designated
to the memorial project. The Fisherman’s Tribute,
a memorial to all who fished out of Everett, was
expected to be completed in 2011 and be located in the plaza outside the new Port
administration building in the North Waterfront.
North Waterfront Fish Processing
The fishermen and their boats were the major part of the fishing industry in the North
Waterfront but they weren’t the only ones. Several ancillary businesses also existed
there. Among these were fish processing plants.
Everett Fish Company
Though seafood processing had an Everett history that could be traced to the early years
of the 20th century, no plant operated in the North Waterfront until 1944. An August
26, 1944 Everett Herald article noted that a 58- by 115-foot two-story building was being
constructed at a bayfront site that eventually would have the address 1520 Norton
Avenue and would house the Bozeman Canning Company. In fewer than two years,
the company was known as the Pictsweet Canning Company. On May 5, 1947, Steve
Chase announced that he had purchased Pictsweet’s fish canning plant. It was a family
line of work — his grandfather of the same name had earlier operated fish processing
companies in Maine, Seattle, and Everett. Young Steve began the operation as the Chase
Seafood Company. At some point, Nick J. Radovich and Claude Meehan joined Chase
as partners. By 1957, the firm was known as the Everett Fish Company, which had been
the name of Chase’s grandfather’s company. Chase was president, Radovich was vice

president, and Meehan was secretary-treasurer. Sometime in the 1960s, Chase and
Radovich bought out Meehan and became 50/50 owners of the company. These were
busy days in the fish business. In January 1962, the Everett Fish Company got its biggest
load to date of fish brought in by one boat. The Regina from Seattle unloaded 65,000
pounds of black cod, 25,000 pounds of red snapper, 10,000 pounds of sole, and 5,000
pounds of mixed cod. The 105,000 pounds of fish came from the Washington coast
waters near Destruction Island.
The company took a huge step forward with the addition of a new 1.3 million pound
capacity cold storage and freezing unit in early 1964. The Everett Fish Company entered
into the business of air freighting frozen seafood to points around the globe. Delicacies
such as salmon, crab, and sole were going from Everett to places like New York, San
Francisco, Copenhagen, Hong Kong, Honolulu, and Zurich. In a 2008 interview, Otto
Chase, Steve’s son, had recollections about working in the plant as a youngster. In
those busy years he remembered the large freezing area where he was admonished
not to damage the salmon’s tail because it would affect the price that could be asked
for the fish. Otto didn’t work on the fillet line but his brother and sister did. Crab was
still being shucked and canned, but by this time very few other products were being
canned. Salmon were “dressed” and certain fish were smoked or kippered. Otto recalls
processing a lot of manila clams one summer. “I took the last two weeks off that
summer to go hitchhiking,” he said.
“While in the Phoenix, Arizona area,
I went into a Safeway store. There
were dozens of bags of Everett Fish
Company clams in the frozen fish
area. That was cool.” Otto Chase
estimates there were perhaps
60 to 70 employees during those
peak years.
In November 1973, Steve Chase and
Nick Radovich sold the Everett Fish
Company to Balfour, Guthrie and
Company Ltd. of San Francisco. An
additional cold storage area was
constructed in the mid-1970s, but
the bottom was falling out of the
In this mid-1950s
photograph, the
gillnetters are berthed
on the left while the
larger purse seiners
are on the right with
the net sheds in the
background. The large
vessel in the center
background is believed
to be the old wooden
ferry, Rosario, which
at this time housed
a seafood canning
operation.
Pringle and Eklund
photograph
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Commercial Fishing

117
Commercial Fishing
fishing industry. Balfour, Guthrie closed the plant and it sat idle for several years until an
East Coast family named Steuart tried to make it work in the 1980s. Steuart Seafoods
struggled along for nearly a decade, finally disappearing around 1992. Olympic Seafoods
made a run and then also folded. Around 1996, the first non-fish processing enterprise,
Scuttlebutt Brewing Company, took over the ground floor of the original facility, but not
the cold storage buildings.
Sheerer Canning Company
Another cannery was the Sheerer Canning Company. This seafood processor had a
brief stay in the North Waterfront. The company utilized an old wooden ferry boat, the
Rosario, which was moored at 14th Street Dock from the summer of 1954 until late fall
that same year. The vessel, once known for its Everett to Whidbey Island run, housed a
cannery and warehouse on the main level and storage and crew facilities on the upper
deck. In August 1954, a workforce of 20 was canning about 400 cases of salmon a day.
Eugene Sheerer and his son Robert operated the family-owned firm. The plan was to
begin canning shellfish after December 1954, but by that time the Rosario had a new
location. The 156- by 40-foot craft was taken up the Snohomish River and placed on
dry land at 3862 Railroad Avenue. City directories show the cannery at that address
through 1966.
Anton Mardesich
Significant people
Anton Mardesich is considered the father of the Everett commercial fishing industry.
Born February 22, 1879, Old Tony left his hometown of Komiza on the Dalmatian Coast
at the age of 17. He arrived in this country at Ellis Island and then rode the rails across
the country to Puget Sound. Arriving in Everett in 1898, he was the first of the many
Slavs who settled here and became involved in fishing. Tony spent much time on the
waterfront working in the mills, canneries, and fish markets. He witnessed the salmon
fishing industry progress from small boats with sails and oars in local waters to diesel
powered boats, including 75-foot vessels that went to Alaska. For years, his purse seiner,
the Tatoosh, renamed the Dorothy Joan by his sons, was one that made the annual trek
to Alaska. He was a member of Everett Elks Lodge and the Yugoslav-American Citizens’

Club of Everett. He and his wife, Jelica or Helen (Marincovich), had four daughters and
two sons: Winnie (Mrs. Tony Martinis), Barbara (Mrs. Henry Weborg), Dorothy (Mrs. Don
Dawson), Helen (Mrs. Warren Phillips), John, and Pete. After Jelica died, Tony married
Lillian. Tony died March 14, 1941. His funeral was at Immaculate Conception Church. He
was only 62 when he died but was spared living through the death of both of his sons,
who perished on the Dorothy Joan a little more than four years later.
Paul A. Martinis Sr.
Paul A. Martinis Sr. was born December 26, 1893, in Komiza, Yugoslavia. He arrived in
Everett in 1921 and went on to become the patriarch of the Martinis fishing family
of Everett, and arguably the patriarch of the entire Everett purse seiner fleet. Before
reporting to several years of military service in the Austro-Hungarian army, Paul decided
to leave for the United States in 1913. He took with him a few dollars and great fishing
knowledge gained from his father since early childhood. He came to the West Coast,
landing in Astoria, Oregon, before moving on to Tacoma. He fished near Anacortes and
eventually built his dream boat the Northland, where he took over the role of captain
for the first time and sailed to the Bering Sea. It was a risky venture but he succeeded in
opening the way for others to fish in Alaska. Eventually his younger brothers Vince, Tony,
and Matt joined him and for years they were known as the “highliners” of the Everett
purse seiner fleet.
The Martinis team was highly competitive—you didn’t dare cork them! Paul was
successful because he understood the tides and currents and how the salmon traveled
in different areas. He understood fish—some said he could even think like a fish. They
used to say the fish would not come into Puget Sound until Paul Martinis got back from
Alaska. The veteran leader was the acknowledged “King” of the fishing community
here. On May 5, 1956, Paul Martinis, aka “Kingfish,” was honored by the Everett Elks at
the club’s annual Fishermen’s Night celebration. Fishermen came from as far away as
Bellingham and Tacoma to honor Martinis. A telegraph was sent from President Dwight
Eisenhower and letters came from Senator Henry Jackson, Congressman Jack Westland,
Governor Arthur Langlie, and several other dignitaries. Steve Chase was chairman
of the committee in charge of the fete, and Harold Walsh made the presentation, a
chronometer set. Of course, the fare was a salmon barbecue. The president’s message
read, “In many aspects your life has been truly a typical American story,” while the
governor stated, “As one of the Pacific Coast’s most successful salmon fishermen during
the past 40 years, you have not only brought distinction to your family, but prosperity to
Paul A. Martinis Sr.
Photo courtesy
Dr. Andrew Martinis
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Commercial Fishing

August P. Mardesich
Photo courtesy
Lawrence E. O’Donnell
collection
119
Commercial Fishing
all the citizens of Everett who have been associated with you.” The day was set aside by
the city commissioners as Paul Martinis Day.
He was a life member of the Everett Elks and Knights of Columbus, a board member of
Fishermen’s Packing Corporation, and a member of the board of the Bank of Everett.
He and his wife, Pearl, had six children: Winifred Riecken, Paul Jr., Andrew, Vince, John,
and Katie Bopp. Paul Martinis Sr. died August 24, 1974, and his Mass of Christian Burial
was held at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church. As was the custom,
his son Paul took over the family business and continued to be a
successful fisherman. Andrew became a heart surgeon, and John
ran a sporting goods store before becoming a Washington state
legislator.
August P. Mardesich
August P. “Augie” Mardesich was born February 11, 1920, to Nicola
“Nick” and Mary (Felando) Mardesich in San Pedro, California.
The family settled in Everett in 1928. Augie had one older brother,
Tony, and two younger brothers, Nick Jr. and Joseph. Augie and his
brothers attended schools in Everett and fished in Alaska with their
father in the summers. After high school Augie attended Seattle
University, but his education was interrupted by World War II. He
served in the Navy during the war and returned home to graduate
from the University of Washington with a law degree. His older
brother, Tony, was elected to the Washington State Legislature in
1949. That summer, all of the brothers went fishing in Alaska with their father. A sudden
storm caused their purse seiner to capsize. Nick, Tony, and three others perished in
the mishap. Augie and his younger brothers survived. Augie was appointed to fill his
brother’s seat in the Washington Legislature in 1950, beginning a 28-year career in the
House and later the Senate. He served as majority leader in both houses, and some
considered him the most powerful man in state politics. Augie credited much of his
ability to work in Olympia to his experiences while fishing — perhaps those experiences
made him understand the big picture. Close encounters and chance survivals presented
the enduring characteristic of a man who could manage himself. As of 2010, Augie was
retired. He and his wife, Rosemary, were residing in neighboring Mill Creek. They have
six children: Tony, Megan, Monica, Meran, John, and Catherine.

INFLUENCE OF NORTH WATERFRONT
COMMERCIAL FISHING INDUSTRY
ON THE DEVELOpMENT OF EVERETT
Fishing was an important part of Everett’s economy. Besides the fishermen, there
were the crew members, fish processing plants, the businesses that sold and
serviced the vessels, those that outfitted the fishermen and boats, the repair shops,
and the fuel companies. Each boat represented a large cash outlay to the city in repair
work and supplies. The boats were stored on the “ways” during the winter and most of
the materials for the repairs were purchased here. The supplies were secured in Everett
because the boats were laden with meats and groceries immediately prior to departure.
It was an industry that depended on ancillary support businesses and reached out into
the community. Often these companies, too, were located in the North Waterfront.
Entire families were involved in the support businesses that accompanied the fleet.
Companies like Wold Hardware furnished material for the boats. Grocers like Ransics
Store and 25th Street Market stocked food for the trips. Butchers like Hausmann’s
provided meat. Everything for fishing was purchased here in Everett.
Had a commercial fleet not existed in Everett, there might not have been funds to
dredge the fishing channels. It is safe to say that improvements took place in the
North Waterfront because of the presence of the Everett fishing fleet. Since it involved
significantly fewer people, commercial fishing didn’t impact the city the way the lumber
and shingle mills did. Fishing did, however, leave its mark on Everett. Like the lumber and
shingle industry, fishing was an extractive industry. The work certainly required skills, but
they could be learned on the job without any college education. One might think that
college would not have seemed important to the fishing families, but nothing could be
farther from the truth. The first generation fishing families had a rudimentary education,
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Commercial Fishing

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Commercial Fishing
perhaps not a high school degree. Their English was broken. The second generation
was expected to learn English, the language of the new land. The first generation saw
education as the answer for an easier, perhaps more successful life, for their children.
Many insisted their children go to college. This was an even higher priority for the
third generation. Everett Herald Business Editor Mike Benbow wrote several articles on
the declining fishing industry in October 2006 and came away amazed at the Croatian
culture and its effect on the city. While the oldest son might be expected to carry on the
fishing business, younger sons were expected to graduate from college perhaps to be
doctors or other professionals.
Daughters likely would graduate with education degrees and become teachers. This
immigrant population cared about education and sent their children to college at a time
when others didn’t. Jerry Barhanovich, second generation, said his father expected him
and his brother and sister to get college degrees. The Slavic fishing people exemplified
Everett’s culture. They were a hard-working people, who, like the city in general, didn’t
put on airs or fancy dress. Like the city, they were not pretentious. They continue to have
a big effect on this city to this day — their community is still here and involved.
The fishing may no longer be the driving force in their lives, but they’re the same kind of
folks. Although they have assimilated themselves into the American melting pot, a part
of the old culture lives on. The Croatians and Norwegians who built Everett’s fleet were
large contributors to the city’s ethnic culture, its church community, and its leadership
core. Many of their descendents are today’s bankers, doctors, lawmakers, and teachers.
Being a tight-knit and proud people, they didn’t complain as the fishing industry waned,
but continued to work hard, perhaps fishing in untried waters. They helped each other
out — a culture that took care of their own didn’t ask for help from outsiders. They were
mutually supportive and dependent. When they first came here they worked hard and
sponsored another family member’s arrival, and another and another. Also, they were
simply very hard-working, hard-partying, “appreciate the value of the dollar” kind of
people. Families were traditional, where the wife usually did not work outside the home,
but ran the household. There were few women on the boats on the fishing grounds. The
men were physically strong, and a traditional stereotype of masculinity.
The Slavs had a great impact on the local Catholic churches. Serious Catholics,
they donated generously to both parishes in Everett. If you check the plaque in the
Immaculate Conception Church building, you’ll find that many of Slavs contributed to
the new building erected in 1967.

Many of the fishermen belonged to the Everett Elks Lodge and the
Everett Golf and Country Club. They also went into leadership positions.
While early fishermen were not on bank boards like early mill owners
were, the situation had changed by the time the Bank of Everett
was chartered in 1962. Mill owners weren’t on the board, but Paul
Martinis was on the founding board. Other board members were Joe
Lucin and Steve Chase. August Mardesich, who went to college at his
dad’s insistence, rose to Senator Majority Leader in the Washington
State Senate and was one of the most powerful people in the state
government. His two younger brothers became doctors. John Martinis
ran a sports fishing shop and spent many years as a Washington State
legislator. He served five years on the Pacific State Marine Fisheries
Council.
Local commercial fishing also provided countless summer jobs for the
youth in Everett. Many attributed their fishing experience as something
that created a strong foundation for their future. Ron Rochon, an
architect as of 2010, fished on Frank Barcott’s boat the Lemes, and on
the Point Defiance with Butch Barcott. He felt there was an easier life and that he should
go to school. His grandfather encouraged him to do so.
Retired commercial airline pilot Erv Hoglund fished on the Lemes, too, while in college
and working on his master’s degree at Seattle University. Erv marveled at his father-inlaw,
Frank Barcott Sr., when he was fishing. Frank was a mellow personality but when
he was fishing, his concentration and dedication couldn’t be broken. Frank knew he had
to make money to support his family, but also he had to make money for his crew. Erv
recalled in a 2008 interview that Frank often said it was the farmers and fishermen who
put food on the table. Erv fished with Butch Barcott, too. All in all, Erv said fishing was a
positive experience. It could be fun even when they didn’t make money.
Ray Stephanson, serving his second term as Everett Mayor in 2010, went fishing for the
first time at age 13, helping Jack Metcalf (later a U.S. Representative from the Second
Congressional District). Later, Ray worked summers on Dick Leese’s purse seiner Solta
for three years. In a 2008 interview Ray said, “Fishing taught me how to work and
work hard.” He worked long days with little sleep. He said they’d match wits, skills, and
knowledge with every other boat out there. The close quarters made the crew watch
out for each other.
Croatian fishing
families attended
Immaculate Conception
Church because
they lived near the
bayfront and their
fishing boats.
Photo courtesy
Jack C. O’Donnell collection
122
Commercial Fishing

John Martinis
Photo courtesy
Lawrence E. O’Donnell
collection
123
Commercial Fishing
Crewing provided jobs for young men who weren’t necessarily
from fishing backgrounds. Tom Hoban, a successful Everett
businessman as of 2010, credits his college education and his
first job to his commercial fishing experience. In the summer
of 1982, Tom wandered the fishing dock and basically talked
his way onto Tony Martinis’ purse seiner Barbara Jean. He was
attending Notre Dame University, which was expensive. His
younger siblings were also starting college soon, so he hoped
to make enough fishing to pay for his education. Without that
season, he may not have been able to cover the next year’s
room and board. Tom fished the following summer as well.
He was late to college one fall because of a big catch of pink
salmon in the San Juans, and still smelling of fish and diesel.
When questioned about his arriving late to school, Tom talked
hard, explaining to school administrators that fishing was a job
where the fish decided when you worked. The Notre Dame
administration allowed him to continue his education; Tom
figured the money from the late catch paid the tuition. After
graduation, Tom applied for a job with a major Seattle bank.
During the interview, it was noted that he hadn’t had much
business experience. Tom countered that he had learned enough working his half-share
on the purse seiner to pay for the education he figured would be a ticket to a better
life. As of 2010, Tom Hoban runs Coast Real Estate Services with his brother Shawn in
downtown Everett. Looking back he reflected, “I’m in business now and sometimes
things can get a little heated in the business world. But I’ve never experienced anything
like the excitement when the fish are running.”
Young men indeed learned much about life while fishing. On purse seiners they
found how to be part of a crew, or team, and have communal respect. They had to
be responsible for their part of the work, despite the different personalities involved.
They gained respect for the elements and learned how to take risks in less dangerous
situations. If something broke they had to fix it. Most will tell you they grew up fast while
fishing, and returned with a feeling of self-sufficiency. They also came home with some
lifelong friends, other members of the crew.

Some families couldn’t separate themselves from fishing; it was part of them. Frank
Barcott’s tombstone at Everett’s Evergreen Cemetery has a purse seiner etched into
it. Nearby, his brother Joe’s marker similarly has a gillnetter carved in stone. This
exemplifies the pride that went with commercial fishing. The Barcotts’ brothers were
also in commercial fishing and their sisters married fishermen.
Glamour and romance undoubtedly accompany fishing. Everett Herald’s Mike
Benbow said during his many interviews that the fishing families were proud of their
heritage, and their eyes would always light up when they talked about fishing. It
may have been hard work from the boat, but it looked like a real adventure from the
shore. The independent, freewheeling, afraid-of-nothing sort of guy had a persona
akin to a cowboy.
Perhaps Paul Piercey, a descendent of the Norwegian and Croatian fishing cultures of
Everett, summed it up best when in 1966 he wrote, “With the challenges I have faced
and overcome in fishing, I can see why my ancestors would be able to face the challenge
of leaving their homeland for a better life. That’s basically what fishing is; we leave home
to face the uncertain and deal with whatever comes up, in our effort to provide a better
life… It is the adrenaline — intoxicating, addicting adrenaline — that keeps us coming
back.” Fishing is his metaphor for life.
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Commercial Fishing