The bibliography of books on angling and game fish that constitutes the major portion of this slight publication is closely associated, for better or for worse, with the Harry Hawthorn Foundation for the Inculcation and Propagation of the Principles and Ethics of Fly-Fishing. The Foundation's title is admittedly somewhat pompous, but the story of the Foundation's beginnings and subsequent growth is devoid of high seriousness. Rather it is light-hearted, jovial, and perhaps, especially to some non-Waltonians, even slightly frivolous. But to those who love angling, who enjoy the great wilderness beauty that lies beyond the borders of cities, and who find relaxation and peace in the company of fellow-anglers, the account that follows may be of some interest. It will, at least, explain how the bibliography came into being. Chronologically unsound, this history (somewhat in the fashion of Steme's Tristram Shandy) begins with birth, goes back to conception, and moves finally to growth and development.

BIRTH

The date: 4 June 1953. The Librarian of the University of British Columbia, Neal Harlow, glanced through the completed letter, appended his bold and rambling signature, and, having carefully sealed it in the already addressed envelope, dropped it in his "Out" basket. His immediate part in the birth of the Foundation was over.
On 5 June, the President of the University of British Columbia, Dr. Norman Archibald MacRae MacKenzie, better known as Larry to staff and students alike, smiled as he read the letter from his Librarian. In it was wit and learning unhampered by pedantry, and it called back pleasant memories from the immediate past. It also demanded action in the immediate future.

For the historical record, here is the letter in toto, free from excision or editorial emendation:

Dear President MacKenzie :

I am very much pleased to report to you the establishment of a trust fund, for Library purposes, under the style and title of the "Harry Hawthorn Foundation for the Inculcation and Propagation of the Principles and Ethics of Fly-Fishing." Its initial material assets are $13, which, with whatever cumulations may subsequently accrue, are to be spent on books relating to the history of the ancient and agreeable sport of fly-fishing and thus promote, as Isaac Walton put it, "a recreation of a recreation."

It should be here recorded that Dr. Harry B. Hawthorn is the Honourable Founder (and principal objective) of the Fund. His associates are Dr. Norman A. M. MacKenzie, Professor Stanley E. Read, Professor Geoffrey C. Andrew, Dr. D. C. B. Duff, Professor Robert F. Osborne, and the undersigned, designated Trustee of the Fund. Dr. Roderick Langmere Haig Haig-Brown, as bibliographic, legal, and technical adviser, stands by as official counsellor within the several areas of his jurisdiction.

It is recommended, therefore, that the Harry Hawthorn Foundation be accorded the superior approval and recognition of the Board of Governors and that acknowledgement be duly forwarded to the Honourable Founder. "Angling," according to Mr. Walton, "may be said to be so like the mathematics that it can never be fully learnt; at least not so fully but that there will still be more new experiments left for the trial of other men that succeed us" - upon this academic rock the Foundation stands.

Yours sincerely,

Neal Harlow, University Librarian

At the next meeting of the Board of Governors, on 19 June, the Foundation was accorded "the superior approval and recognition" that had been requested. Good authority has it that the meeting was a merry one, but the entry in the book of minutes is dry and factual:

A letter dated June 4th was received from Mr. Neal Harlow, Librarian, reporting for information the establishment of a trust fund, for Library purposes, to be known as the "Harry Hawthorn Foundation for the Inculcation and Propagation of the Principles and Ethics of Fly-Fishing."

Dry, perhaps, but the entry makes it clear that the birth of the Foundation had been officially recognized. The record is clear and indisputable.

CONCEPTION

But what of the process of conception? The history here is that of a murky past. Even dates are uncertain. But it is certainly true that by the late forties, we - a small number of academic colleagues - would take off after the university year had creaked to a tired close for the quiet waters of Upper Campbell Lake, on Vancouver Island, not far beyond and to the west of the town of Campbell River, home of the noted magistrate, conservationist, writer, and angler, Roderick Haig-Brown. After we had invaded Rod's house and had been given some fortification to sustain us over the narrow, rough, and winding road ahead, we would make our slow way to the lake. Though rough-edged by timbering and by forest fires, it was still a lovely piece of water, with inlets and bays, and with the great snow-capped mountains to the west, down the Elk River Valley, bringing constant pleasure to the roving eye. Leaving our cars at the eastern tip of the lake, we would make our way by boat to Strathcona Lodge, to be greeted by the Whittakers, as nice a pair as one could wish to meet this side of Heaven. The Lodge was perfect - a vast log-built affair with a lovely lounge and dining area, comfortable rooms, and sleep-conducing beds. Mrs. Whittaker's food was superb (she was a home economist and had learned her profession well), and her husband's service was beyond reproach. It was a pleasant, warm and friendly place. The evenings were passed in good conversation; and during the long days we fished.

And the fishing, though often hard, was good, with strong trout, mostly cut-throat, taking the fly well and fighting with tenacious vigour. They were not always big ones. But then you never could tell. The element of surprise was there. Will it be a two pounder? Or will it perhaps go even a little more? And so we passed our days in fun, in friendship, and in good fishing. On one or two occasions, some fair wives came along, but generally the group was male, and, as I have said above, all academics, all tired, all relaxing, all enjoying "the contemplative man's recreation," angling in the true Waltonian spirit.

Such were the formless beginnings. No recognizable shape is visible until the latter part of May in the year of our Lord, one thousand nine hundred and fifty-three. Again the academic term had ground to its weary close. Again a small group of piscators, under the general direction of Larry MacKenzie, the Decanus, the Doyen, the good Master, boarded the C.P.R. ferry to Nanaimo. Again, we invaded the home of the ever-understanding and ever hospitable Haig-Browns to receive fortification. And again we were welcomed by the Whittakers at Strathcona Lodge, which smelt of pine, and fresh spring flowers, and the sweet savoury odours of preparing food. City clothes were discarded; rods assembled; lines prepared; flies examined and selected. We were ready, and the evening was perfect - softly warm with little wind, and with the sun starting to edge towards the glowing mountain rims to the west.

But whom do I mean by "we"? The record is uncertain, but collective memories indicate the following:

Larry MacKenzie, brilliant President of the University, who, shortly after his retirement in 1962, served in the Canadian Senate, until January 1969; a Nova Scotian of  Scottish ancestry, a veteran of the First World War, and an ardent lover of the angle from his youth onwards.

Geoffrey C. Andrew, in 1953 a professor of English, the executive assistant to the President, and later the executive director of the Association of Universities and Colleges of Canada; also a Nova Scotian, a graduate of Dalhousie and Oxford; a vigorous, dedicated angler; a fine fishing companion.

Cecil Duff, a professor of bacteriology and a man of rich scholarship, who has now retired; a quiet fisherman who loves the world around him.

Myron Weaver, then Dean - the first Dean - of the Faculty of Medicine; a great lover of the outdoors; a fine conversationalist; a rich contributor to the world of medical education, who is - and I write this with sorrow - no longer of this world.

Hal Taylor, professor of pathology, a wit and a lover of life, a native of Newfoundland and a singer of songs, a genuine lover of fishing, and an extraordinarily good companion.

Neal Harlow, an American who drifted north from California to become one of the great librarians of the University; a sharp and witty and a brilliantly intellectual fellow; more a lover of nature and the birds that inhabit the air than a dedicated follower of the sport of angling; a fine friend and a great contributor to the Foundation.

Harry Hawthorn, Head of the Department of Anthropology and Sociology (he has since given up administration to devote himself to research and teaching); a native of New Zealand where, at a most tender age he became a follower of Walton; a richly experienced fisherman, who casts long and fine and collects rich rewards; a stalwart friend, who has contributed much to the Foundation that bears his name (for alleged reasons yet to be stated).

And finally myself, an undistinguished professor of English, who learned to angle for perch, pickerel, and bass from my father and the kindly old General Butterfield - a veteran of the American Civil War; this angling done, I fear, with worms, and frogs, and grasshoppers in the lovely waters of Lake Memphramagog that stretches its long shores from Vermont into the Eastern Townships of Quebec.

So we were eight that evening, though Roderick Haig-Brown joined us later. And what need I say of him to anyone interested enough to scan this account? Magistrate at Campbell River for many years, he is known wherever the literature of fishing is known for his superb books (The Western Angler, Return to the River, A River Never Sleeps to name but three - for the rest see the bibliography); an active conservationist; a magnificent handler of the rod; and a man of infinite charm and profound wisdom.

But now to the conception itself - that special series of events that led to the birth of the Foundation. Though their beginnings have a degree of clarity about them, the conclusions are obscure, contradictory, and debatable. I have four accounts before me as I write - all differing in degree and in detail: the MacKenzie version, the Haig-Brown version, the Harlow version, and the Andrew version - the last the most complete, but not neccessarily the most reliable.

If memory does not play me false, it actually all started with Andrew. Geoff is a gambler at heart - this in spite of his ecclesiastical background. He is willing - even eager - to wager a nickel here and a dime there, without any hesitation, any sign of trepidation. This evening he was at the peak of recklessness: he called for the making of three pools at a quarter a piece - one pool for the first fish caught, one pool for the largest fish caught, one pool for the most fish caught. So off we went - all contributors, all gay, all friendly. I, for some unknown reason (perhaps just a lack of the gregarious instinct) fished alone. I soon struck - and kept - a good cut-throat, and announced my catch in stentorian tones that re-echoed through the surrounding hills.

Did others hear? To this day I do not know. So on I fished, catching a brace more, and returned to the Lodge in the gloom of the descending night. As I entered the lounge, I found the others already assembled. It was quite evident that confusion had already taken over. That confusion, and the incidents that followed, are best expressed in the Andrew version - a version marked by clarity, a fair degree of objectivity, and relative honesty. Let it speak for itself.
 

We fished - and when at long last we succeeded in luring Read in off the lake, we were all agreed that Read at least would not win the pool for the most fish, as he had obviously fished after hours. It may have been this factor that heightened the whole argumentative spirit. In any case we found it impossible to agree on the winner of any single pool.

Read and I both claimed the first fish. I had witnesses to record the time the fish was boated. Read was around a point in a bay, had no witnesses, asked when I had boated, and then claimed a minute earlier. It was generally agreed that as none of us had synchronized our watches there could be no award anyway. The pool money was voted into escrow for later decision and disbursement.

Hawthorn and Read both claimed the biggest fish. Hawthorn had in fact the longest fish; a dark, dirty, eel-like spawner which anyone with a vestige of sporting instinct (or a sense of shame even) would have thrown away - let alone bring forward for a prize. Read's was a bright, thick fish - a full half pound heavier than Hawthorn's but an eighth of an inch shorter. Obviously here again no one could be allowed to win, and the pool monies were set aside, to be thought about before disbursement.

Read and Hawthorn again contended for the most fish, and despite Read's outrageous extension of the fishing hours, Hawthorn would have won easily, had not some ingenious member of the party recalled that no one had defined the time limits within which the fish must be caught. Surely, he argued, the pool was reserved for the person who caught the most fish during the whole period of our stay, and not just on the first occasion out.

All this disputation brought out in the whole party the lawyer that lurks in a man just below the surface of civilization. Legal wrangles crept into the poker game, into the selection of boats, the allotment of fishing partners. It was a pretty determined lot of sea lawyers who, for the rest of our stay, studied how to do the dirty on all their friends.

The second day's events introduced a new element into the dispute. Hawthorn, accompanied by Harlow and Read, had spent the day at Unknown Lake and returned with nineteen good trout. Harlow claimed to have caught one and Read four, which left Hawthorn the happy (but illegal) possessor of fourteen fish. Up to this time the possibility of exceeding the legal catch hadn't even been raised in argument - but now the possibility existed that Hawthorn might win the pool by breaking the law. Disputation bubbled over.

It was decided that on the last night of the trip we should hold court, with Larry MacKenzie and Rod Haig-Brown as joint judges (or a bench of magistrates), and that everyone would be free to bring any charges he liked against any other member of the party, reflecting on any aspect of his behaviour, as a fisherman, as a poker player, as a scholar and gentleman, or in any other respect, and that the court would assign the pool money, now held in escrow, as it saw fit.

On the last evening court convened. The expected protests against the jurisdiction of the court, the competence, ability and reliability of the judges having been disregarded, Read, Hawthorn, Harlow, Weaver, Duff, Andrew et al. were allowed a so-called opportunity of pleading their so-called cases. Evidence was given and taken, heard, derided, denied and disregarded. Charge and counter-charge went, heard or unheard, unconsidered. Eventually the judges, having deliberated, pronounced that all pooled funds, which happened to be in their possession anyway, were confiscated and would be used to establish a foundation at the University of British Columbia to be called "The Harry Hawthorn Foundation for the Inculcation and Propagation of the Principles and Ethics of Fly-Fishing." This imaginative idea, so unexpected from such a bench, so staggered those whose wealth was underwriting the idea, that there followed some perhaps ten seconds of silence - when we all gaped dazedly at the moral grandeur of the concept.

It was at this point that someone recalled that the cash in hand - some $3.50 - hardly seemed adequate to establish a foundation.

The judges thereupon reconvened the court; summarily fined all who had won at poker. . . [and] eventually, after some bargaining, the judges themselves were persuaded to contribute a token payment on behalf of a tithe of the serious crimes alleged against them.

Neal Harlow was appointed trustee for the immediate sum of $52. ? [NOTE : Andrew questions his own figure. See Harlow's letter to the President.] and all subsequent monies accruing to the Foundation; which sums were to be used to buy books on fly fishing for the University library.

In this way did the Harry Hawthorn Foundation come into being.

So much for the Andrew version. The Haig-Brown version, given in a speech that Rod delivered to the Flyfisher's Club of Oregon on 6 June '61 (it was later printed in The Creel, vol. I , no. I , December '61) centred on the incident at Unknown Lake. Coming from the pen of a great writer, the style is impeccable, but the details do not always dovetail with the Andrew account. It is a good sample of the confusion that led to conception. It is also a view of a joint-judge, not that of a pleading defendant:

A number of us, including the president of the university and his assistant, and others of the University of British Columbia, are in the habit of meeting for a fishing trip right after graduation. And we usually have a little pot on the first fish, the largest fish, and so forth. We also play a little poker in the evening. Stakes are not high, but one year one member seemed to be on the winning edge of things - excessively so, I may say. As it happened, I told him and another very reputable professor about a little lake where there were a lot of good-sized fish that you could catch very readily. These two went out the next day to this little lake, and the second of the professors (the one who had all the winnings) became very excited. He stripped to his shorts, got on a log and paddled out into the middle of the lake. He started murdering fish right and left. His friend on the bank kept fairly quiet, taking a fish now and then. When they came back to the lodge where we were staying somebody met Stan (who was the quiet man on the bank) as soon as he came in and said, "Stan, how many fish did you get?" Stan said, "Eight."

Well, our limit up there is twelve, and when the fish were counted there were twenty-one. It was quite clear that the law had been broken, and it was also quite clear who had broken the law.  So we held court that evening, and decided that all winnings of this character who had taken thirteen fish instead of twelve should be placed in escrow until we decided that the winnings would be given to the university library to start a fishing section called, after this gentleman, The Harry Hawthorn Foundation, "for the promotion and inculcation of the ethics of fly fishing." This club meets every year, and the poker winnings, no matter who wins them, are still forfeit. So are any other ill-gotten gains that anyone may have, in addition to which, of course, it isn't too hard to penalize members from time to time for various infractions on the ethics of fly fishing. We are building up a nice little library in the University of British Columbia on the subject of fly fishing. That is one way a club can develop and serve.

The other two versions are brief and to the point, neither written with a Gibbon-eye for historical detail. The Harlow version, attached to a short-title list of the first forty books purchased by the Foundation, was circulated in June '59 - six years after the event. It was called "History Enough of the Harry Hawthorn Foundation. . .Trial edition, by an Eye-witness." It was an impressionistic account - vivid and unreliable, as clearly seen in the following pertinent sections:

The Setting: This lovely lake looked out upon a lot of half burned trees and a luxurious lodge all festooned with flimsy fish poles.

The Rising: A little later the selfsame lodge, well laden with rye and scotchmen, surveyed an evening lake alive with lumpen fisher men. Who caught the first fish? "I," said Generous Geoffrey. "No, I," cried Studious Stanley, and there was no truth in any of them. And who landed the longest fish? "Not Rod," said Duff quite devilishly; "with my rod," he said instead. Pray who got the largest number? "None other," exclaimed Honest Harry, who had a handful of helpers. And they played poker until the rum ran out.

Quick Solution to a Nasty Problem: After night after night came the great reckoning - gaming gamblers, larcenous lawyers, lying laymen, bickering fishermen, malevolent magistrates all in a row or row. First, largest and most numerous? Let the Court speak up, and he did. "On this Foundation do I set my seal, and the gates of hell shall hardly hold a candle to it." And he said let there be books on fly-fishing. And here they are.

Of the MacKenzie version what need be said? It is blunt and to the point, lacking those fine alliterative flourishes found in the Harlow passage. Having described the earlier, unregulated gatherings of the late forties and the early fifties, he turns to the historic moment :

It was on one of these later occasions at Stratchona Lodge, Upper Campbell Lake, that the Foundation came into being, due to arguments about gains and losses in poker games and side bets as to the first fish, the most fish, the longest fish and the heaviest fish. All these disputes were settled by my declaration that the total of the monies involved should be held in escrow to become the basis of a Foundation named after Harry Hawthorn, who it was alleged exceeded his limit in fish caught by resort to questionable practices. Application was made to the Board of Governors of the University of British Columbia to formally recognize the Harry Hawthorn Foundation and to arrange for the receipt of the monies in question and such further sums as should be contributed. This was approved.

It is perhaps fortunate that no Hawthorn version of the conception exists. It might well have compounded the already too evident confusion. For Harry has read the accounts of his colleagues and has said, with a smile, that he finds little or no truth in any one of them. Yet he has accepted with good grace the dubious honour of being the father of the Foundation, and, as I have already said, has contributed richly to it.

From such tangled webs are the strands of history spun. Doubts still exist as to details, but at least it is clear that the Foundation was conceived in turmoil, properly born, and officially recognized.

THE LATER LIFE AND THE LADNER ERA

First, it must be recorded that Progress came to Upper Campbell Lake. Its waters were backed up so that they were joined to the waters of beautiful Buttle Lake to make a vast inland sea. The shoreline, with its little bays and inlets that we knew, disappeared, and deadheads and underwater stumps cluttered together around the new edges. Roads were hard-topped; miners and truckers came into the park area. And the Lodge and the Whittakers disappeared. (It is true that the Lodge reappeared some years later some miles away on a much less attractive site; but that is another story.) So the annual congregation of the Foundation had to, perforce, assemble elsewhere. One year the members gathered at Pillar Lake - a lovely and fishable spot to the north and west of Vernon; and one year they met at Lac Le Jeune, that historic lake near Kamloops where the trout are often large but often very hard to find. It was at Le Jeune that Lee Straight, noted fish and game columnist of the Vancouver Sun, dropped in on the annual meeting of the Court. In his column for 26 May '56 he gave the Foundation its first publicity:  

Sat in on a most interesting meeting of the "Harry Hawthorn Foundation" at Le Jeune Monday night. This is a group, mostly of University of B.C. professors, who meet once or twice a year for a congenial fish-fest and to fine one another scandalously to finance the foundation.

Harry Hawthorn is a former New Zealander and now professor of anthropology at U.B.C. He wasn't able to attend this meeting I attended, so was heavily fined for his absence. So were Rod Haig-Brown, Campbell River magistrate and author, and Dr. Ian Cowan, zoology department head at U.B.C., also unable to be there this time.

Those in attendance were U.B.C. president Dr. Norman MacKenzie, his deputy Dean Geoffrey Andrew; English professor Stanley Read (organizer), bacteriology professor Cecil Duff, pathology professor Harold Taylor, librarian Neil Harlow (trustee), Tom Hughes, superintendent of buildings and grounds at U.B.C., and Colonel John McLean, OC of the Canadian Officers Training Corps.

Worthy purpose of the foundation is to establish (already done) and increase, an angling library at U.B.C., paid for by fining one another for everything from being seen with a wobbler (instead of flies only) to exaggerating a catch. When they played a spot of poker, all winnings went into the foundation.

As a mere honorary member of the evening, I trembled in the corner, fully expecting to be fined $5 because I wasn't sure of the difference between the nymphs of the enallagama and ischnura damselflies.

How the foundation took Professor Hawthorn's name is a story for another time, but this fine group of sportsmen have started something many of us can add to. I escaped with the promise of some of my books for their library, open to the public, by the way. Other donations would be gratefully accepted.

And the promise was kept. Lee Straight did add several brace of very good books to the collection before many days had passed; and he has maintained his interest in the Foundation, as will be evident later.

It was in the closing days of 1956 that Dr. Leon Ladner came into the ranks of the Foundation. The occasion was a reception at the President's House. The company and the drinks were good - the atmosphere informal and cordial. Neal Harlow and I fell into the usual chit-chat conversation with Dr. Ladner (we were formal with him then), and to our joy discovered that he was an ardent fisherman - a bit of a tyro, he said, but very, very ardent. And so, in the flush of the moment, we made him an Honorary Piscator - a member of the Foundation - and he accepted. We did not then realize the significance of that moment.

Leon Ladner is one of a rare breed - a man of many years but of an ever youthful spirit. His father, born in 1836, and his uncle, born in 1826, left England as very young men. Eventually they crossed this vast continent by covered waggon, lived for awhile in California, and then made their way to this particular corner of the world in the late 1850's. They ran pack trains to the Caribo, they opened farm land, they started a cannery, and they established the settlement of Ladner (not far from where Vancouver now is but where untouched forests were then). They also fathered children, Leon among them. No wonder that the lad loved to hunt, to live in the outdoors, and to dream of the world to come. He quickly established himself as a brilliant barrister; he sat as a Member of Parliament in Ottawa; and for many years was a Governor of the University of British Columbia. But he still loves the outdoors, he still dreams of an ever better world, and he enjoys good company to the full. In brief, he was - and is - a good Waltonian. His interest in the Foundation was genuine and uninhibited; he would be, we knew, a good member.

So Harlow, ever efficient, sent him within days a certificate of Honorary Membership, and, again within days, received the following letter of acceptance - a letter that reveals the writer's effervescence, his good humour, his un-stuffiness, his youthful spirit:

Mr. Neal Harlow
Trustee in Piscary
c/o Library
University of British Columbia
Vancouver, B.C.

My dear Trustee:

With characteristic humility becoming a humble member of piscatory propensities, I hasten to reply to your certificate of Honorary Membership in the company of honorable piscators, to wit the Harry Hawthorn Foundation for the Inculcation and Propagation of the Principles and Ethics of Fly-Fishing.

To belong to such a distinguished group, free of law or controls, bureaucracy, dictatorship and constitutional restrictions is an experience for which I had to wait many years to find, all notwithstanding the five fishes enclosed herewith and related to the fiat of H. H. Piscator, sitting.

It is fitting and proper, in view of the piscatorial aura which brightens the hope of a new member and encourages a boldness perhaps not in keeping with the timidity of my fellow members, that I should reveal to you a dark secret, experienced on Lake Pennask on the very first fly-fishing expedition of your obedient servant. While attempting to cast a fly at a distance of 150 ft. in front of me, and exceeding the backward stroke beyond the time of 2.00, the said fly extended behind me to the extent of 161 ft., on two occasions, and a fish was caught in the backward position. Such are the intuitive propensities of a new member, devoted at all times to the backward stroke for unsuspecting fish.

I deem it useless to extend this concoction of circumlocution, but will reserve the right at the next meeting of the Harry Hawthorn Foundation for the Inculcation and Propagation of the Principles and Ethics of Fly-Fishing to unfold to the meeting certain information on this complicated and hopeful association.

Yours very sincerely,
Leon J. Ladner

The letter was dated 28 January 1957, and on the invitation of our new and very honorary member the next meeting of the Foundation, in early June, was held at Pennask Lake, where the members were housed in the great log lodge of the Pennask Lake Fish and Game Club. It was the beginning of a new era for the Foundation, for since 1957 to the present (1969) the annual congregation has been held in this paradisal spot.

Pennask Lake is in the southern interior of B.C., about thirty miles due east of Merritt as the crow flies, but far from paved highways and high speed traffic. If you drive to the lake you follow a country road (at times rough and treacherous) that crosses great range country, passes through low forests of jack pine, alder, and spruce, and winds always upwards. The lake is high - about five thousand feet above sea level - large, and lovely. It is rich in islands, small bays and inlets - some bearing names associated with fishermen of earlier days, some, names that are descriptive - Mud Bay, Peterson's, Prudhom Bay, Slaughter Bay, the Colonel's Kitchen, Burnt Island, Milwaukee Point, Lone Tree Island, Dole Bay. The birds are there - the swallow, the woodpecker, the occasional kingfisher, the great circling osprey, and the loon - active, noisy, entertaining, and handsome. And there are fish - one species only, as far as I know, the Kamloops trout (which, if I read Haig-Brown correctly, is a non-migratory rainbow of the interior of B.C.) and he may be taken on the fly in almost any part of the lake at almost any time of day.

But this is not to say that the lake is sure-fire or an easy lake to fish. It isn't. Success will depend, in part, upon a knowledge of the reefs and shoals, the bays and the inlets, in part upon the weather - the temperature and the winds especially, and, in part, upon the skill with which the angler handles the rod and fly. Most fishermen fish the lake wet and more fish are undoubtedly taken on the wet fly than on the dry. But when a good rise is on the dry fly-fishing can be superb, towards late morning, in the middle of the afternoon, or in the late evening, just when the sun has dropped behind the mountains. The evening rise can be especially dramatic, for I have seen the whole lake dimpled with feeding fish, though even then they may be reluctant to take what is offered.

But broad and large, it is one of the finest fly lakes in this vast province, though it must be admitted it has one drawback - it contains few surprises. The Pennask trout is a fine fish - well conditioned, deep bodied, vigorous, pugnacious, a fighting, high leaping fish. But even though he may run your line and bring song to your reel, when finally conquered he is seldom - very seldom - more than fifteen or sixteen inches in length. So if you want the big one - the three or four or even five pounder - you must go elsewhere - perhaps even to Little Pennask, some hundred yards through the bush. Big ones are there. But here again is a problem - they will seldom, very seldom, take the fly.

Strathcona Lodge, Upper Campbell Lake

Yet Pennask has been an ideal place for the annual meeting, or congregation of the Foundation. The accommodation and the food have been perfect, and the daily routine relaxing, friendly, Waltonian. Boats leave the Lodge at nine or nine-thirty; fish get lively, usually, by ten or eleven; and the great fish fry takes place, usually at Milwaukee Point, or Burnt Island, at one. Then, relaxed, the anglers return to the lake for the sport of the afternoon and go back to the Lodge for a drink and dinner at six, or thereabouts. There are some who pass the evening in reading or at the card table; but those who love to fish dry take rod once again to play the interesting evening rise - granted that the water is quiet and the evening good. Then, with the coming of dusk, the last boats pull into the dock. In the darkness the stars shine with a brilliance unknown to those who ever dwell in cities. Quietness descends - broken only by the occasional anguished cry of a loon in the distance. A good day of angling and warm fellowship is rounded out. "And so to bed."

Over the past twelve years, then, Pennask has been the meeting place of the annual congregation. Some of the original group still make the pilgrimage; some have disappeared through the accident of transfer to other parts or through the ultimate event of death. But new members have been added, to become full disciples. I cannot name them all, but here at least are some who have contributed or are contributing much to the Foundation:

Good Geoffrey Davies, historian and one time assistant to the President at U.B.C., who fished at Pennask with rare joy; but he, alas, was appointed as Dean of Arts at Brock University in St. Catherines where, after a brief term in office, he met swift death in the spring of 1967.

Tom Hughes, who fished with us at Lac Le Jeune and at Pennask; a giant Newfoundlander, who casts a long line with obvious relish. At one time Superintendent of Buildings and Grounds at U.B.C., he now serves private industry.

Mike Pottinger, son of a great fly-fisherman himself, who, through his long association with Pennask, knows every shoal, every inlet in the lake; through his knowledge, willingly shared, he has added much to the Pennask congregations.

Then the three Deans - Jack McCreary, of Medicine, who, a southpaw, loves to angle with the slightest of rods, and does so with effective refinement; George Curtis, of Law, a good companion, and, with legal sharpness, a power in the annual Court; and Wah Leung, of Dentistry, a relative newcomer to the angle but a lover of the event.

Add, too, wise Alex Wood, for many years at U.B.C., now at the University of Victoria, a scientist who knows the intimate secrets of all wild life and game and who searches for big fish with every permissible ethical wile; and Mac Whitelaw, a noble son of Hippocrates, who holds multiple posts at the University and elsewhere, and who, a passionate and most knowledgeable bird-watcher (he declines the title of ornithologist), is an excellent angler when he is not listening to - in Dame Juliana's words "the melodyous armony of fowles."

Came, too, for brief periods, the genial Avery (Pete) Peterson, at one time American Consul General in Vancouver; two former university presidents, Jack Macdonald and Malcolm Taylor, who, under pressure, had little time for quiet contemplation; Ron Jeffels, formerly of the French Department at U.B.C., but now a busy administrator at the University of Victoria; and the warm and friendly Tom Ladner, lawyer, who allows business to interfere with angling, but who maintains a sharp interest in the doings of the Foundation.

Trevor Harrop, of the Faculty of Dentistry, and Geoff Durrant, of the Department of English, U.B.C., though freshmen in the Foundation, should also be named. They are both wise anglers, rich in experience and devoted to the gentle art.

And finally that good friend, John McLean, brave and distinguished soldier, head of the Personnel Department at U.B.C., most dedicated fisherman, who, in these latter years, has acted as Hon. Treasurer of the Foundation, and seen to it that fines and assessments have been paid and properly channelled into that trust fund which originally totalled $13.00.

Over the years, too, certain good friends have been named as Honorary Members, because of their interest in fishing or in the purposes of the Foundation. Leon Ladner has been, of course, the outstanding member in this category, though he quickly lost his honorary status to become a full and active member. Then there is that good Monseignor, Jacques Garneau, who casts a well blessed fly with fine and effective touch and who yields the priest with dedicated skill. But he, alas, abides in Ottawa with the AUCC, and has fished with us only twice. Also named have been Major General F. H. N. Davidson, a distinguished soldier and a very fine angler, but he, though known well to some of us, lives in London, and when the early summer comes heads north to Scottish streams, especially his beloved Don and the beautiful stretch near Kildrummy Castle. The late Dr. Wallace Wilson was also nominated; partly because of his love for angling, especiaIly at Lac Le Jeune, and partly because of his great interest in U.B.C.'s Library, as was Leon Koerner, one of the best friends that the university has had in recent years. And finally, Tommy Brayshaw, master angler, brilliant artist, and a great collector of angling books, who, by his will and after his life's course had been run, has become the greatest donor of books to the Foundation.

Finally, to close this sketchy history of the Foundation, let me dwell briefly but with respectful affection, on the annual Court - the source from which good monies flow from the bank accounts of diverse but not reluctant individuals into the coffers of the Foundation.

Pennask Lake Lodge

". . .for the Inculcation and Propagation of the Principles and Ethics of Fly-Fishing" - such are the purposes of the Foundation, said the Judge, as he brought the first Court to a brilliant end in the late spring of 1953. Perhaps he little knew that precedent and tradition were being established that night, but the fact remains - a Court is still held each year at the conclusion of the Congregation. The Chief Justice, self-appointed, but not basically objected to, has ever been (or almost ever) he who conceived the idea of the Foundation - Larry MacKenzie, now the Honourable N. A. M. MacKenzie to those who do not know him well. With him have sat over the years a number of puisne judges (sometimes referred to by the litigants as "puny") - perhaps Rod Haig-Brown, perhaps George Curtis, but more often than not, Leon J. Ladner, Q.C. So the Court, which usually assembles after the evening rise on the last night of the yearly meeting, has had a certain glimmer of respectability and authority about it. But what is the purpose of the Court? A good question; but externally at least to pass judgment on the skills of all good fly-casters present, to examine the faithfulness with which they have followed the best and most widely approved principles of angling with the fly, to evaluate their ethical behaviour towards fish and fellow-man, to measure their sobriety, and to check on their payments of past fines and assessments.

Typical of all these courts was the one held in 1960. Its proceedings were recorded by the Hansard of that year in the Hawthorniad, a somewhat pompous poem written by an anonymous, illegitimate descendant of Milton. "The Gathering," "The Fishing," and "The Feasts," have been described; then comes "The Great Conclave" - the annual Court:

But time cannot be held within man's grasp
And all too soon did come that fateful night
When summoned were we to the Great Conclave
By him, MacKenzie, Priest now changed to Judge
By some strange alchemy of private brew.
High on his throne he sat like fallen Lucifer,
By some called Satan, who 'fore the world began
Did call his sullen host to conclave great
In Pandemonium, Hell's massive hall.
Our Satan's brows were furrowed from deep thought,
But bright his eyes. They glowed with fires gleaming
Infernal, born of those amber spirits rare
From his ancestral shores. Quiet he claimed
And Chaos fled before this Stentor's voice.

"Brave fellows of the rod, my boon companions,
Bring forth your charges now against all those
Who of this sacred company have erred
Or who have sinned against the ethics and the laws
Of this Hawthornian Foundation.
Those charges having heard, I will pronounce
Judgment most final. Let none my words withstand."

Thus spake he; then did pause, only to start again
Ere word did come from any minion's mouth.

"But first no action may this Conclave take
Until I have made pronouncement dire
'Gainst those who sit not with their brethren here
But vagrant are amidst the flesh-pots and the stews
In modem Sodoms and Gomorrahs vile."

And so the Court opened, with charges first against Harlow, "that gaunt and Cassian / Piscator," who had absented himself to hold "lengthy converse dry / With dry librarians," and who "seduced by subtle wiles . . . the noblest fisher of all," Haig-Brown to go with him; then against Haig-Brown for being "seduced thus / By that fair tempting Harlow"; and finally against McCreary, who, after a day and a half of hectic fishing, had fled from the Congregation

. . .To curry favour with
A physio-therapeutic company
To whom he is pledged to bring wise words
And charming smiles.

All three were summarily convicted and fined - Harlow and McCreary each to pay ten dollars current to the fund; and as for Rod

To the Foundation must he forthwith give
Fair copies of his latest books (or book)
And further, granted that it can he done,
He must provide for placing in our archives
A copy of that noble picture of himself
That lately did appear in publication
Luce. This done he clamps him to Ourself
Again by golden bars. . .

Then came the charges, counter-charges, and convictions against those present: First against Mrs. MacKenzie - Margie (this was an exceptional year with one angler of the distaff side present), for being of the female sex and also being late for the Court; against Andrew, for sending to our Judge "a magazine, / Playboy, so called, of nature most seductive"; against Hughes, for trying to "navigate his craft / On solid land"; against Curtis, who had "by angling methods weird and wonderful. . . endangered lives of fellowmen"; against Hawthorn, who, returning from a recent trip to Great Britain, openly confessed he had not fished the Test or cast a fly "into the gentle Dove where / Cotton fished"; against Whitelaw, that "quiet, virtuous, contemplative man," for gazing too long on birds and consequently failing to report that the Ladner boat was in distress; against Taylor, for general, unspecified but boisterous sins; and against Read for not knowing "when wet was dry or dry / Was wet." As to the Judges they too were charged and, by unanimous consent, convicted and fined - the Puisne Judge, good Ladner, for having fished illegally, and by lingering long "on evening waters. . . had caused good men to leave their healthful drinks / To rescue him and his unhappy crew"; and the Chief Justice - "Larry - noble Scot - " for having fled from fishing "to snore away - / In bed at least one glorious afternoon," and for having circulated

That Playboy magazine to bring about
The downfall of a Dean, not vice versa
As earlier had been claimed.

And so, after a general assessment had been imposed on all, the 1960 Court was closed; and the Foundation was a little richer.

Other Courts have been similar; all have been held in the spirit of good companionship and with a light, young, humourous touch. Most of the charges have been based on planted evidence or on the workings of active imaginations. Anglers have been charged with fishing with steel-cored lines; with using heavy sinkers; with attempting to catch unsuspecting trout in mouse traps; with possessing - and even using - gang trolls, devices unmentioned by any true Waltonian. And there was the one classic case brought against Rod Haig-Brown himself, a man fully knowledgeable in all that pertains to the principles and ethics of the art of fly-fishing. The record comes from the prosaic minutes of the Court of 1958, a year in which he acted as a puisne judge : "Haig-Brown charged by Ladner with the unseemly lassoing of fish by the tail while wearing a white cowboy hat given him by the Mayor of Calgary." The charge was accurate and the guilt of the accused well established. I know, for I was fishing with Rod at the time. And he was wearing a magnificent white Stetson which he had just received from the Mayor of Calgary. As usual, Rod was fishing dry. Suddenly there was a clear and beautiful rise some sixty feet from the boat. He cast with fine accuracy and the fly dropped gently in the circle. The response was quick and Rod struck viciously, to catch the downward sweep of his prey. Success was instantaneous, and the fish was on, fighting hard but in an unpatterned fashion. Three or four minutes later he was netted and safely in - and there it was, for all to see, a perfectly lassoed fish, with the lasso knot around the tail. Unethical? Well, there is nothing in Cotton, in Halford, in Skues, or in Gordon to support this as an ethical technique. The guilt was obvious; the charge and the fine inevitable.

THE COLLECTION AND THE BRAYSHAW GIFT

With the passing of the years, with occasional gifts, and with a constant, though a somewhat unplanned and erratic, ordering of books on angling and game fish, the Foundation's collection gradually took shape and size. Harry Hawthorn, especially, did much for it by picking up rare and interesting items in his trips to England and New Zealand. Then, in 1968, came a great gift that dramatically changed the proportions and the significance of the collection - the angling library of the late Tommy Brayshaw. Though Tommy had been an Honorary Member of the Foundation, he had never been able to join us for an annual Congregation, but, a long-time and an intimate friend of Rod Haig-Brown, he had kept in touch with the activities of the Foundation, and some years before his death in October 1967, had made known his wish to leave his fishing books to it. A letter dated 3 May '68 from the Yorkshire and Canadian Trust Limited made the terms of the bequest known :

Under the will of the late Mr. Brayshaw, we wish to quote the following bequest: "Unto the University of British Columbia for the benefit of the Harry Hawthorn Foundation and its members my library of fishing books save and except any books by Roderick Haig-Brown."

It was a valuable bequest - some one hundred and fifty major works, a large number of pamphlets, offprints, and periodical articles, and Tommy's own fishing diaries covering the years from 1932 to his last fishing trip in 1965. The gift was acknowledged in a letter to Mrs. Brayshaw on 9 May:

As the honorary secretary of the Harry Hawthorn Foundation, I am writing to you to express the profound gratitude of all of the members of the Foundation for the invaluable gift coming to us through the kindness, generosity, and foresight of our very good friend Tommy, a great fisherman, a great artist, and a very great man.

I cannot here record the details of Tommy Brayshaw's life, but the following brief facts may be of interest to those who use this work. Born and brought up in Giggleswick in Yorkshire and trained in naval architecture, he was severely wounded in the First Great War. Knowing something of Canada (he had lived in British Columbia briefly before the war), he turned to the west again, and for many years taught at the Vernon Preparatory School, founded by the Rev. A. C. Mackie, theologian, teacher, and, in the best Waltonian tradition, an ardent angler. In the Second Great War, Tommy again served, this time with Pacific Command as a Major Command Recruiting Officer, and shortly after the end of that war retired to an idyllic spot beside the Fraser River at Hope, B.C. Here he lived until the complications of age overtook him, forcing him to spend the last years of his life as an apartment dweller in Vancouver. But wherever he was, or whatever he did, he was first and foremost a fisherman, devoted, dedicated, idealistic, meticulous.

I do not know when he started to fish, but it is almost reasonable to believe that he grasped a rod in his pudgy fist while still an infant in the crib. He was certainly angling by the time that he was ten or twelve, and he was certainly keeping a fishing diary by the time that he was fourteen, though I suspect much earlier. He perhaps started to seek out trout from the shores of the Ribble River that flows by the village of Giggleswick, and he soon was fishing Malham Tarn - an historic lake (it has been fished by Charles Kingsley) famous for good trout, most difficult to catch. In a letter dated 26 February 1950 and addressed to Mr. P. F. Holmes, the Malham Tarn Field Centre, Tommy wrote :

I have copied out all the entries of trout caught in the Tarn, commencing in 1900, when to the jeers of my elders I said I was going to fish Malham Tarn. At that time I was fourteen years old and everyone told me how much better fishermen than I had gone up there and caught nothing. I caught a trout of 1 lb. 9 oz. that day, and from then I was a confirmed Tarn fisherman!

In August '31, having entered over the years each Tarn catch, with weight and fly used, he records the grand total: 38 - 82 lbs. 11 oz. - Average, 2 lbs. 3 oz.

He never lost his initial enthusiasm, and he never ceased to be a careful, meticulous, observant fly-fisherman. He tied his own flies, he made his own rods, and his always observant eyes took in every detail that in any way impinged upon the art and the craft of the angler.

But his international fame (and he was well known to thousands of anglers in North America and Great Britain) rested on his skill as an artist - a carver, a sketcher, and a painter. I do not know the date at which he started, but, trained as a draughtsman, he had firm command of pen, pencil, and brush, and a fine eye for form and colour. His realistic wood carvings of fish go back to the thirties and the results he achieved were remarkable. He carved for friends - exact, coloured replicas of outstanding trophy fish; he did carvings of Pacific salmon to publicize the products of the fishing industry; and he carved for his own delight and pleasure. But he also liked to sketch and paint, and in the years following the second war he did magnificent illustrations of game fish for various books, including Haig-Brown's Western Angler (the trade edition, first printed in 1947), and The Living Land (1961) , and for various periodical publications. As a result, he became widely known. He carried on a running correspondence with many anglers; he appeared as guest speaker at conventions and meetings of angling clubs; and he wrote many articles for sporting magazines. He was well informed, witty, and a passionate fighter against the industrial forces that threaten streams, rivers, and lakes by pollution, damming, and indiscriminate cutting. And in all that he did there was always a sense of sureness and authority, based upon his own profound knowledge achieved through long experience, and upon the resources of the fine library that he had built for himself over some sixty-five or seventy years of time. No wonder then that his gift to the Foundation has been one of genuine significance to all true anglers.

The Brayshaw bequest had two immediate results: it stimulated some members of the Foundation to begin a study of books on angling and on game fish in the university Library and it brought forth two more comments, one short and one long, on the Foundation by Lee Straight in the Vancouuer Sun. In his column for 22 October '68, he announced to the public the Brayshaw donation, and also wrote a somewhat premature obituary : "The Hawthorne (sic) Foundation was formed by a group of U.B.C. friends who got together on occasional weekends to angle and ruminate about it. The late Professor Hawthorne (sic) was one of their most ardent, best-loved cronies."

Some three weeks later, Lee Straight lunched with a very alive Professor Hawthorn and a couple of his cronies at the Faculty Club and on 16 November he devoted his full column to the history of the Foundation and the growing significance of the collection. With grace and wit he also made amends for the premature obituary :

It was a particularly auspicious occasion for me for it set Straight straight on two important points. One, on just how the Foundation's growing library of angling classics is being assembled. And, two, on the fact that the man after whom it is named, Dr. Harry B. Hawthorn, is a long way from being the "late" professor that I dubbed him a couple of weeks back. . . .

I don't know where I got the idea that the honorary head of the foundation was plying his angling wiles on Elysian streams, but anyhow, my apologies to Dr. Hawthorn and our readers. I hope the good professor can slip away for a spot of angling in that more earthly paradise of New Zealand, where he once resided and which he will be visiting at year's end.

THE BIBLIOGRAPHY

When the Brayshaw collection had been added to the works acquired by the Foundation over some fifteen years, it was thought that a bibliography might be of interest, not only to members of the Foundation, but to all interested in the literature of angling. After a conference with the Librarian, Mr. Basil Stuart-Stubbs, we decided that a logical undertaking would be to gather together in one bibliography the titles of all books in the U.B.C. Library on angling and on game fish, no matter what their source. The Library, which had come into being in 1915, had certainly acquired, in more than a half century, a number of books on fishing, either in the normal course of purchase, or by donations from friends of the Library, such as Mr. H. R. Macmillan, a most skilful fisherman and a genuine bibliophile. Yet it can be stated categorically that the great majority of the items listed have come to the Library through the Foundation. We have made no attempt to include works that deal primarily with commercial fishing, nor have we attempted generally to list periodical items.

We have also excluded works on fishing written in classical times, though we have included that amazing, erudite work by William Radcliffe, Fishing from the Earliest Times, first published in 1921 . Basically, therefore, the bibliography will be of primary value to those interested in the art of angling, or to use Walton's words, "the contemplative man's recreation," and in the history and development of angling literature from the year 1496 down to the present day. Of all branches of sporting literature in the development of western civilization, the literature of angling is the most extensive, the most interesting, and, even to the general reader, the most rewarding. In 1486, an unidentified printer of St. Albans published a work commonly called The Boke of St. Albans, though its more informative title, The Bokys of Haukyng and Huntyng; and also of coot-armuris, gives a better indication of its contents and divisions. Ten years later (1496) a second edition of The Boke appeared, but to it had been added a fourth part, The Treatyse of Fysshynge with an Angle. The identity of the author, or perhaps compiler, has been much debated, but today the authorship is usually assigned, though with reservations, to a Dame Juliana Berners (sometimes spelt Barnes), the Prioress of Sopwell nunnery, near St. Albans. The printer of this second edition was Wynkyn de Worde, the immediate successor of William Caxton, the first maker of printed books in England.

For the purpose of this introduction, we can leave aside the complicated problems of authorship and sources. They are relatively unimportant. What is important is the author of the Treatyse obviously knew much about fishing - fly-fishing included - and loved to use the angle. She (or he) wrote with relish and felicity and set the tone for the great works to follow. For example, if an angler fails to hold his prey after the fish has struck,

he maye not faylle of a nother yf he dooth as this treatyse techyth: but yf them be nought in the water. And yet atte the leest he hath his holsom walke and merye at his ease, a swete ayre of the swete sauoure of the meede floures: that makyth hym hungry. He hereth the melodyous armony of fowles. He seeth the yonge swannes: heerons: duckes: totes and many other foules wyth theyr brodes. Whyche me semyth better than alle the noyse of houndys: the blastes of hornys and the scrye of foulis that hunters: fawkeners & foulers can make.

So with "the melodyous armony of fowles" or, if you wish, the melodious harmony of birds, the art of angling was introduced to the English reader. Since that memorable date the stream of angling books has been constant and ever-expanding-small, it is true, in the sixteenth century, but much stronger in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and swelling to a vast stream of works from 1800 to the present day. The U.B.C. collection cannot be described as a great collection. Those of the British Museum, the Library of Congress, the libraries of Harvard and Yale are much larger and much more valuable. But it can be described as a good collection, containing as it does nearly all of the great titles, and including some items that are rare and of considerable value. Its great weaknesses are to be found in the earliest periods: we do not have the second edition of the Boke of St. Albans, nor the first edition of that remarkable work by John Dennys, The Secrets of Angling, nor any of the early editions of Walton, or of Walton and Cotton. Missing too, are certain of the great works published in the United States during the earlier portions of the nineteenth century. But we do have later editions or facsimile copies of nearly all of the early significant works, including some fine facsimiles of Berners, an excellent facsimile of the first edition of Walton's Compleat Angler (1653), as well as some fourteen other additions of the Compleat Angler, beginning with that famous edition by Sir John Hawkins, printed for Thomas Hope in London in 1760.

All in all, the bibliography lists well over six hundred titles, which constitute at least a very firm base on which a great collection may eventually be established - by continued buying, by continued giving, and by undiminished interest by all who love angling.

The arrangement of the bibliography is straightforward: it opens with a short list of works that are primarily historical or bibliographical, and then lists the other holdings in alphabetical order. In cases of multiple authorship cross references have been generally supplied when they have been considered important. Two appendices are supplied that may be both of use and interest: the first is a chronological listing of genuinely significant works from The Boke of St. Albans to the present; the second, a list of pseudonyms used by a number of important writers.

The basic preparation of the bibliography is the work of Miss Susan Starkman, and to her the members of the Foundation express their sincere thanks. We should also like to express our appreciation to Mrs. Brayshaw for arranging the transfer of her husband's collection to the Foundation. And finally we pay tribute to Mr. Basil Stuart-Stubbs, the University Librarian, for the aid and encouragement he has given to us. Not a Waltonian ("I am temperamentally a Jainist," he says), he none the less loves the world of nature, and "I spend as much time as I can up to my ears in the green things, principally bird watching." So he is, to a certain degree at least, a disciple of Dame Juliana, who found infinite pleasure in listening to "the melodyous armony of fowles."

Reprinted from The Contemplative Man's Recreation by Susan B. Starkman and Stanley E. Read (1970)