There are several things the older generations of this area once considered commonplace, but probably will never be seen again.

One is a run of freshwater smelts on a dark, cold night, when dozens of fishermen with dipping nets filled bushel baskets with thousands of the small, silvery and slippery fish. The smelts still make their runs, but regulations have changed for protection of the fisheries.

In early spring of 1900, a story in the Lewiston Evening Journal painted a remarkable picture of the short and frenzied smelting season.

“There’s only one time that you can catch smelts by the basketful, and that’s when they’re running,” the story said. “And they never run more than three nights in a year.”

Lapham Brook, which empties into Taylor Pond in Auburn, had been called the mecca for smelt fishermen, but Sabbathday Lake in New Gloucester was another favorite spot.

Townsend Brook, which is a tributary to Lake Auburn at North Auburn, also attracted smelt fishermen, and that stream had a high yield in late April of 1900.

“The last run of smelts there was on Saturday night,” the newspaper story said. “The night’s catch has been set as high as forty bushels. Phin Clough, the man who never told a lie, says that the night’s catch was twenty bushels, and we let it go at that.”

It was estimated that a hundred men plodded up and down the banks of the stream that night. The only let-up from fishing was to eat lunch and tend the fires along the stream’s banks.

Two men made up a team with each dip net. One holds a torch and the other manipulates the dip net.

“It takes a man of muscle to be a successful dipper,” the Journal writer said. In his opinion, “Three men in one party are of no earthly use.”

Who were these fishermen making these astonishing hauls of the little fish?

We get a good picture of a local smelting party a century ago in a March 30, 1957, story by Dick Murray, a popular feature writer for the Lewiston Evening Journal. He shared his boyhood memories of his first smelting trip with a young friend and their fathers.

One night they set out for Lapham Brook in a horse-drawn buggy. When they reached the wooden-railed bridge at Taylor Pond, a good number of buggies and carts had already arrived.

“Horses were tethered to trees or hitching weights. We realized there would be a sizable crowd by mid-evening,” Murray wrote. “Time passed, and I took the net to practice dipping,“ he said. “Paul and I went over to a camp-fire, while Father held our selected spot. Here the men were passing around jugs of cider, and it was amusing to us to see them hold the jug in the bend of the elbow and guzzle down the hardy apple-jack.”

About nine o’clock voices down the meadow could be heard shouting, “Here they come! Here they come!”

Murray described lanterns quickly moving closer to the passing water.

“Paul and I watched feverously for the sight of darting smelts. Finally, we could see them darting. First we got two or three, then we were able to get six to a dozen. Once the dip-net brought up as many as 50,” Murray said.

Soon they had enough smelts for a big feed for both families. The next day they enjoyed their fill of fresh, small smelts, rolled in corn-meal, and fried to a golden brown in butter.

Some other interesting facts about old-time smelting were found in a 1935 newspaper story.

“Men go many miles at this season of the year after smelts,” it said.

Sebago Lake was one popular destination for Twin Cities residents. Wales, Monmouth and Leeds also had their enthusiasts among smelters.

On May 1, 1956, there was a brief news story in the Lewiston Daily Sun that told of unusual smelting that year.

It said, “This is the first time in recent years that smelting has been legal in the area and it’s due to an oversight in the wording of Inland Fisheries and Game Department regulations. The use of a dip net to take smelts still is illegal but taking them with the hands is allowed. One man reported getting 10 quarts with his hands.”

Dave Sargent is a freelance writer and a native of Auburn. He can be reached by sending email to [email protected].