"Stop or I'll Shoot"

“Stop, or I'll Shoot!”

as overheard by John B. Anderson

[This story does not come from my memory, but ftom a conversation I overheard at a class reunion party at Trader's Point. The story was too rich to keep to myself, so I thought it best to attempt to re-tell it here.]

The flood of 1910 devistated everything around the Manistique River. Weston Avenue homes were all underwater, and many of the downstream factories and loading docks were destroyed. To compensate for the spring flood waters of the river, the siphon bridge and floom were constructed. The floom actually lifted the river up out of its banks, and allowed the overflow to escape down the sides. This worked pretty well over the years, but the river sometimes needed some sandbags to keep it in place. I remember such an occurrence in 1960.

The North Cedar Street Gang looked forward to the spring event of the season. After the river gates had been opened wide to accommodate the spring run-off, the day came for the Department of Natural Resources to lower the gates thus eventually lowering the river to a trickle. On that special day each spring, the North Cedar Street Gang, Dick, Bill, Phil, Jim, et. al., waited hidden in the bushes next to the river. Each boy was armed with a pitchfork, a sharp stick, a weinie fork, or some other sharp object These would be used to spear the fish when the river receeded.

Back at the gates were DNR Officer Ernest Derwin, (Ernie Dernie), and his trusted companion, Dobber Dewey. Ernie was no stranger to the annual event, as he drew his pistol and asked Dobber to lower the gate. The river started to receed. Soon there was nothing but a trickle. Many little puddles lingered on the limestone river bottem, each with a large fish flopping around.

At the count of, “three,” the boys sprang from their hiding places, and ran toward the flopping fish. Each stabbed a large fish, then started to run downstream.

“Stop, or I'll shoot!” cried Ernie. Boom! Boom! The shots sailed over the boys' heads.

“He won't shoot us! Keep running!”

The boys hustled their speared fish down the river bed, and they made their way back into town. Their parents were quite pleased at the beautiful dinner that their sons had provided.