The Land-Bound Fisherwoman

By Paige Moulton

Just as the sun begins to rise from the ocean, men begin to flood into the inconspicuous blue building on Plum Island. They are an eclectic bunch, as varied as the fish in the sea, but they all have two things in common: a love of fishing, and Surfland. The fishermen are perfectly at home in this equally eclectic bait and tackle shop, where the sparkly plastic worms and squids are almost as likely to become a child's bathtub toys as they are to become bait for a fish. Today the crowd is larger than usual due to a flea market in town. Ever the thrifty and loyal types, customers will buy something cheap at the market, and then bring it to Surfland to be fixed. This shop that started in 1960 as little more than a rinky-dink shack has become the hub of New England fishing.

At the helm of Surfland Bait and Tackle stands Kay Moulton. With her stark white hair cut short, Kay almost blends in with the men surrounding her, but she is not afraid to assert herself in this deceptively masculine world. And although it took time, this small woman is now hailed as the supreme authority for all things fishy.

Although she may have little experience actually catching fish, Kay's knowledge of the sport has been acquired over a long career. When reporting on fishing, the local Newburyport Daily News often uses Kay as a source. Fisherman Bill Kendrek's recent catch of a rare 60-pound striper bass caught the attention of the news. Kendrek's fish, which showed up at Surfland, prompted discussion about the decreasing population of bass in nearby waters. The Daily News approached Kay for her theory: "this time, it's not overfishing." She largely blames pollution and bad spawning seasons. It may only be a theory, but she is likely correct. Kay knows her business.

Unfortunately, it is an area of business that has faced a lot of trouble recently. Although not top on Kay's list, a few years ago overfishing was the talk of the town. In June of 2009, the Gloucester Times printed an article in which a study by two scientists, "proclaimed the likelihood that 'overfishing' was killing off the oceans, and that only jellyfish might be left by mid-century." In response to reports like this one, regulations have begun to change, and soon the industry may be nearly unrecognizable.

Surfland has thus become a piece of New England history, and Kay acts as its guardian. As the fishing industry begins to crumble, the shop reminds people of a time when fishing was both a livelihood and a passion. Faces smile down at you from the ceiling beam when you first walk in – faces of fathers, sons, brothers, and friends standing next to fish almost as large as themselves. This tradition of documenting the customers' proudest moments began as a gimmick to bring in customers, but now many young men profess that it is their dream to get on Surfland's wall. All they have to do is catch a fish weighing in at 50 pounds or more. Kay is patiently waiting for the day that a woman will go up on her wall.

Besides Kay and her daughter, there are no other women in the shop this morning; however, Kay claims that they do come in with more and more frequency these days. In fact, one customer seeking a date asks Kay, "Who was that girl in here yesterday?"

Without missing a beat, Kay wonders aloud, "Do you think she was gay?" It's a harmless question that Kay, always the blunt one, can't help but ask. She grew up in a different time, and most of the women whom she does see are either tagging along with a male or are somewhat clueless single mothers bringing in their kids. The latter, admits Kay, truly touch her heart.

The other fishermen don't seem to miss the female presence as, without their wives to rush them along, they form what can only be called their version of a sewing circle. Sitting on the rickety stools that Kay provides, they happily share the most recent gossip. Today the topics range from bashing a recent law that makes it mandatory to have a fishing license in Massachusetts to fondly remembering a friend who passed away. "Every year," says Kay, "you have to wonder how many guys won't be coming back." But Kay does what she can to take care of them. On Saturday, the shop becomes a soup kitchen, with Kay's daughter, Martha, providing soup from the culinary department of the school she teaches at during the week. Kay encourages everyone to take some home, with her brisk, no-nonsense attitude, as she bustles around helping customers. The shop's mascot, a huge, orange Maine Coon cat, aptly named Mackerel, also makes a brief appearance. Although Kay warns them that the cat isn't the most sociable or lovable animal, the fishermen fawn over him. At least Mackerel isn't a cold, dead fish.

Even without all of the little gimmicks Kay provides, most of the fishermen would still come just for her. One frequent customer says of Kay, "She knows it all!" And many people take this comment to heart. Kay has received questions ranging from the vague "when will the fish be here?" and "when will the rain stop?" to the specific "what direction will the wind blow in June?" When asked what she thinks about these preposterous questions Kay says, "People are stupid." Then she corrects herself, "It's not that people are stupid, they just don't think before they ask." Kay knows as a businesswoman that she has to be nice to her customers, but giggling like a schoolgirl she reveals, "that doesn't mean you can't call them an asshole after they leave!"

Nevertheless, she is hard-pressed to think of a customer who really ticked her off. Mostly Kay shares funny, offbeat stories, such as the guy with 11 worms: "He bought a dozen worms in the morning, and came back that afternoon saying 'You cheated me! You only gave me 11 worms!' I felt real bad and said 'I'm sorry, mister.' Well he took me out to his truck and laying on the flatbed were 11 fish. He said, 'See! If you had given me 12 worms, there would be 12 fish!'"

Despite her love of the unique people she encounters, Kay isn't a huge fan of having fans. Surfland also sells some memorabilia, among which is a shirt professing, "I'm a Kay customer!" That's not too much of a problem, but the back of the shirt lists some criteria for this declaration, the most memorable being "Does your wife, girlfriend or mother want to know 'Who the hell is Kay?' It was a betrayal, albeit forgivable, from her own children. People call her a legend, and her son, David, proclaims, "She's famous! Or rather infamous," but Kay scoffs at it all. On the other hand, she is quite proud of the recent lifetime achievement award she received from the Essex County Sportsman's Association. When presented with this award, despite claiming not to be a talker (a comment that can be hard to believe after seeing her in her natural habitat), Kay said a few words to the audience: "I want to thank you all for your business, but I also want to thank you for your friendship."

However, this lifetime of good business and better friends did not come without some costs for Kay. She loves her family, but the business consumed her, and now it all but defines her. Before Surfland opened, she and her husband had two children, and three more soon followed. Although Ray would take over much of the work while she was pregnant, Kay never stayed out of service for long.

Up until the '90s, the family lived directly over the shop, and one time Kay describes coming upstairs to find her infant daughter, Martha, asleep in the baby's own throw-up. The memory still makes Kay cringe. Many years ago, guilt over leaving her children alone so often almost led to depression and drove Kay to visit a doctor. He simply told her that she was never far away, and her children always knew where to find her if she was needed. Today, Martha, free of trauma, only has one complaint: "Kay hasn't given me that giant raise yet so I can retire!"

Despite the doctor's reassurance, guilt continued to have a presence in Kay's life. And the children were not the only ones to cause it. Ray, too, despite spending much of his time fishing, used to think that Kay "thought more of the business than she did of him." This was coming from the man who didn't even show up on their first date.

"Was he fishing?"

"No," says Kay, "he was golfing."

Nevertheless, their relationship remained strong, even as Ray began to suffer from Alzheimer's, leaving Kay as the sole sentinel of all their history. This season, Ray is one of the fishermen who didn't return.

After a long day of work and in the comfort of her own home – the house on the hill just a few feet from the shop – Kay relaxes into a more typical, grandmotherly role. Sitting under a blanket in her late husband's usual spot, she reflects on her life with a smile. In spite of the difficulties, she has never wanted to give up on Surfland. Even at age 80, she can still be found there, behind the counter, almost every day, full of attitude and willing to share a story or two. One time a fisherman came in offering to buy Surfland, and Kay told him, "Go home and ask your wife if she is willing to give up her life to run this business so you can go fishing." That's what happened to her. She never heard from the man again.