November 26, 2018 - When I moved to the Starks, Louisiana First Baptist Church in 1963, an old timer told me about Bearhead Creek. “People hardly ever fish it nowadays… it is brushy, fishy and full of Water Moccasins. It turned out to be so fishy that I hid my car to disguise my fishing hole and so snaky that I wore my Colt .22 pistol on my hip when I fished there.
One day I parked near the bridge on Highway 12 and had walked about a mile downstream when I got my shock of the day. I came face to face with 20-year old “Peanut” Mitchell…who was shocked, too. “I’ve fished this part of Bearhead all year.and aint never seen a soul”, he said. We promised each other we’d never reveal our fishing place to anyone. Strangely enough, both of us were fishing with Great Lakes Whirlaway reels….reels that were almost obsolete. “I thought I was the only person crazy enough to use one”, he laughed. “I’ve got lots of extra parts at the house if you ever need some”.
Early one morning, Peanut drove up at the Parsonage. “I’ve got this ’52 Chevvy Convertible for sale.” “I just overhauled the motor and since I couldn’t afford to buy rod bearings, I cut some out of Prince Albert tobacco cans instead”. I bought it from Peanut and filled it with young people every Sunday night after Church and drove to Nick’s Café for hamburgers. Charlotte Berry’s mother called on Sunday night saying Charlotte came home “smelling like beer.” I told her that someone poured beer in the seats of my convertible while we were at Nick’s that night. She believed the story…..and the story was true. Later Johnny Northern said he had a motor that would fit my convertible. “I’ll put it in for $150”. I agreed…. and a week later he drove it up with a trail of blue smoke pouring from the tail pipe. “I guess your old motor was better than mine”, he laughed.
My friend Susie Gillis told me today that “Peanut” was killed in an auto accident soon after I moved from Starks back to Texas. Bearhead has changed a lot since Peanut and I fished there fifty years ago. The woods have been cut out and the land is now leased to a Hunting Club. I’m an ole feller now and couldn’t walk the banks like I used to. Besides, walking Bearhead banks wouldn’t be the same…
… if I walked them without Peanut Mitchell.
