Hueneme Pier, A Torrez Family Story, From the Pier to the Lake and Back — Mark “Chief” Torrez
Wow, what memories of the Hueneme Pier. The ocean breeze, the lures, the big fish stories, the rods and reels, and of course the people. The living pulse that gave this pier its character day in and day out She was rebuilt in 1967/68 or so; our first meeting was back in 1968. I fished the pier from about the time I was seven years old to the present day. I remember my father David B. Torrez woke me up at 5 in the morning and said, “come on we are going fishing.” He had two rods in his hands, one his spinning rod and the other was my rod. My dad gave me a 6-foot Penn spinning rod with a Penn Long Beach 155 reel. To this day I still own that rod and reel.
Now our first outing was great. We caught about a dozen ronkies (tom cods) and bullheads (sculpin) and we didn’t have a bucket so we used our metal toolbox as the bucket. What started as a day of fishing became a love and obsession for the sport of fishing for the rest of my life.
The names and nicknames of the people are still fresh in my mind. Tiny, Old Joe, Charlie, Uncle David, Nick, Richard, Henry, James & Charles (“The Twins”), Mr. Chan, and myself, known as Markie. This was the true pulse of the pier on every weekend and every summer day. You saw them come to the pier to try their luck at catching something and to tell those tall tales. Plus, we were the information of what was going on with people and the fishing. My father for the first couple of years kept me on the traditional rig of two snelled hooks and a two-ounce weight. For those first years that was the set-up of the day.
We would catch fish but never paid attention to the numbers. Then one day we saw a gentleman of Asian descent throwing a rig with four hooks that were wrapped with red and yellow yarn. It was called a Lucky Joe and I asked my dad if we could get one. It’s funny now, but my father did not want to part with a dollar back in the day for, as he called it, a gimmick rig. But he did buy me one and I was catching jacksmelt, opaleye perch, piling perch, bullheads, ronkies, herring, mackerel and surfperch. Wee! Not wanting to be outdone by his son, my father bought another Lucky Joe.
So, the weekends of who was the better fisherman began. My dad would usually win but as I got older I watched how others were catching fish. My fish counts started to go up and I started to get the upper hand and I never looked back. My dad said I was just lucky but others would watch and say, “Hey you got something there.” So, I became the unofficial bait supplier for the gents who were after the bigger calicos and halibut. Needless to say I loved my new title and job. A bad joke here but I was known as the Jr. Baiter and we will leave that one alone.
One day my dad woke me up and said, “I entered you and your brother in a fishing derby at the Hueneme Pier.” It was run by the City of Port Hueneme as part of the Harbor Day Festival. The Boys and Girls Club ran the derby and gave prizes for the “Biggest Fish,” “First Person to Catch a Keeper Fish,” and the “Most Fish.” Well, it was nice to be in the zone because in the three years of fishing the derby, my brother and I walked away with most of the prizes in our age groups. Plus, I walked away with the “Most Fish” caught my last year with 60+fish caught in a three hour period. It made the local papers and made my mom and dad proud that we were such good anglers.
That’s how it was every summer days and every weekend. I would ride out to the pier on my bike, making bait, saving for the next new reel or fishing rod. I also made up a stick with a hanger bent into a hook so I could hook up the loose weights and hooks people lost under the pier. I would sell or trade the weights for food or cash. This made my dad happy because he did not have to worry about buying weights anymore. The other part was my mom and dad back in the day did not have to worry about me because they knew everyone on the pier. The guys kept me supplied with food and drinks and would show me the latest and greatest in fishing tackle.
I saw very weird and bizarre set-ups to catch fish. They had Lucky Joes, Pilipino Jigs, Diamond Jigs, Lure Jensen Crocodile Jigs, Crappie Flies, floating bait, Carolina jigs or halibut rigs, squid jigs, live and dead bait sliders, bonito rigs, and flies. Heck, we would use an office clip and add a weight with hooks, clip a whole open mussel, put the hook in the flesh of the mussel and catch butterlip perch and piling perch. We would watch one guy we called the Piling Perch Master. He would bring his homemade setups of big, old rock cod reels. He would use them to lower a small cage baited with small hooks, baby mussels, and one open mussel. He would catch 4 to 5 pound piling perch. The neat thing was that no one copied what he did.
I remember going out to the pier at night to try and catch small blue sharks, soupfin sharks, and leopard sharks. We also learned to bring a gaff on a rope or a big hoop (crab) net. My mother had made the net by hand, so we could bring them up by hand. My dad was good at catching the sharks and I would catch the better crabs for dinner. There is nothing like it in the world, fresh crabmeat and some butter. It was so neat to see the boats going in and out of Port Hueneme Harbor at night. Plus the stars look so clear at night and you did not see any oil rigs back then.
When I was older, about 16 if I remember right, we loved listening to a rock station called KLOS out of LA on our Boom Boxes. They would play those tunes that were over the three and half minutes long. I can smell the salt air and feel the cold air around us as we stomped our feet to Peter Frampton singing “Do You Feel Like We Do” or some Steve Miller Band song.
There was also the time of the great squid run on Hueneme Pier We lowered our Coleman lanterns to attract the squid to come up as we threw our squid jigs down to catch them. I remember going home with about 28 squid that night. A friend, Mr. Quintana, made up some tasty dishes of the squid and the next night we returned to share the squid we had caught. It was kind of a squid chow mein, but man was it good. We, who fished the pier at night, truly felt like we were the kings of the pier. I can still hear the laughing and telling the stories of the ones that we caught and the ones that got away, and the ones that covered us in squid ink.
Now everyone has heard that the fishing is always better on the other side. Well yes and no. With my father we fished the jetties, Mugu Rock, Ventura Pier, Santa Barbara Pier, the Gaviota Pier, and, as I did in my travels, I also fished by the boat docks. But no matter what, we always came back to our home pier. I also remember eating my first sushi on the pier. We were catching bonito and a Japanese gentleman said, “Give me your fish.” So I gave it to him, he filleted it, cut it into chunks, broke out some soy sauce and wasabi, dipped the raw fish in the soy sauce and then told me to eat it. My dad said, “Go ahead and try it.” I did and it was good stuff.
I remember my last few days before I graduated from high school. I drove up to the pier with my buddy Grant and laughed because I saw all the new guys who would take over as I went to college. I still go to the pier from time to time. I took my dad out there before he passed on so he could fish. I was about 44 then. I remember him telling me that they are all gone now. I asked him, “who is gone dad?” and he said, “everyone, our friends and the fish.” He was right. The areas we fished are no longer there, storms took away the arms of the pier, and people took all the small fish. However, I still like to go out there because you still see them—the new pier people, the new pulse of the pier. It’s funny but you still hear about the ones that got away.
Now the piers have taught me many lessons about fishing. In about 1985, a friend took me to Lake Casitas and I saw the birth of the swim bait craze to catch a 10-pound plus largemouth bass. Throwing big lures for big fish, hummm, what a concept on, and at the time, on saltwater gear. I have been doing the fresh water bass fishing for about 20+ years and you have those same people as you did on the pier, we called them shoreline guy, which I was.
I now fish in fresh water bass fishing competitions with the B.A.S.S. Federation Nation. I was also the B.A.S.S. California Federation National State Champion in 2007-2008. I got to meet and am still friends with Ray Scott who started professional bass fishing in the United States. I also had a chance to qualify for the BASS Masters Classic in 2007 when I fished the B.A.S.S. National Championship at Lake Toho in Florida. I have also made a great deal of friends in the fishing world
I look back on those days and I am sure my folks would have never thought you could take fishing to the areas that I have. Therefore, my days on the pier gave me some great lessons. Old Joe taught me how to make the long cast, Mr. Chan taught me to throw the small ones back, and my mom and dad are always there when I needed their support. If it were not for them, I would have never become a pier rat or developed my love of fishing. Love you David and Jovita Torrez, your son Mark “The Chief” Torrez.
Port Hueneme Pier
Wow, what memories of the Hueneme Pier. The ocean breeze, the lures, the big fish stories, the rods and reels, and of course the people. The living pulse that gave this pier its character day in and day out She was rebuilt in 1967/68 or so; our first meeting was back in 1968. I fished the pier from about the time I was seven years old to the present day. I remember my father David B. Torrez woke me up at 5 in the morning and said, “come on we are going fishing.” He had two rods in his hands, one his spinning rod and the other was my rod. My dad gave me a 6-foot Penn spinning rod with a Penn Long Beach 155 reel. To this day I still own that rod and reel.
Now our first outing was great. We caught about a dozen ronkies (tom cods) and bullheads (sculpin) and we didn’t have a bucket so we used our metal toolbox as the bucket. What started as a day of fishing became a love and obsession for the sport of fishing for the rest of my life.
The names and nicknames of the people are still fresh in my mind. Tiny, Old Joe, Charlie, Uncle David, Nick, Richard, Henry, James & Charles (“The Twins”), Mr. Chan, and myself, known as Markie. This was the true pulse of the pier on every weekend and every summer day. You saw them come to the pier to try their luck at catching something and to tell those tall tales. Plus, we were the information of what was going on with people and the fishing. My father for the first couple of years kept me on the traditional rig of two snelled hooks and a two-ounce weight. For those first years that was the set-up of the day.
We would catch fish but never paid attention to the numbers. Then one day we saw a gentleman of Asian descent throwing a rig with four hooks that were wrapped with red and yellow yarn. It was called a Lucky Joe and I asked my dad if we could get one. It’s funny now, but my father did not want to part with a dollar back in the day for, as he called it, a gimmick rig. But he did buy me one and I was catching jacksmelt, opaleye perch, piling perch, bullheads, ronkies, herring, mackerel and surfperch. Wee! Not wanting to be outdone by his son, my father bought another Lucky Joe.
So, the weekends of who was the better fisherman began. My dad would usually win but as I got older I watched how others were catching fish. My fish counts started to go up and I started to get the upper hand and I never looked back. My dad said I was just lucky but others would watch and say, “Hey you got something there.” So, I became the unofficial bait supplier for the gents who were after the bigger calicos and halibut. Needless to say I loved my new title and job. A bad joke here but I was known as the Jr. Baiter and we will leave that one alone.
One day my dad woke me up and said, “I entered you and your brother in a fishing derby at the Hueneme Pier.” It was run by the City of Port Hueneme as part of the Harbor Day Festival. The Boys and Girls Club ran the derby and gave prizes for the “Biggest Fish,” “First Person to Catch a Keeper Fish,” and the “Most Fish.” Well, it was nice to be in the zone because in the three years of fishing the derby, my brother and I walked away with most of the prizes in our age groups. Plus, I walked away with the “Most Fish” caught my last year with 60+fish caught in a three hour period. It made the local papers and made my mom and dad proud that we were such good anglers.
That’s how it was every summer days and every weekend. I would ride out to the pier on my bike, making bait, saving for the next new reel or fishing rod. I also made up a stick with a hanger bent into a hook so I could hook up the loose weights and hooks people lost under the pier. I would sell or trade the weights for food or cash. This made my dad happy because he did not have to worry about buying weights anymore. The other part was my mom and dad back in the day did not have to worry about me because they knew everyone on the pier. The guys kept me supplied with food and drinks and would show me the latest and greatest in fishing tackle.
I saw very weird and bizarre set-ups to catch fish. They had Lucky Joes, Pilipino Jigs, Diamond Jigs, Lure Jensen Crocodile Jigs, Crappie Flies, floating bait, Carolina jigs or halibut rigs, squid jigs, live and dead bait sliders, bonito rigs, and flies. Heck, we would use an office clip and add a weight with hooks, clip a whole open mussel, put the hook in the flesh of the mussel and catch butterlip perch and piling perch. We would watch one guy we called the Piling Perch Master. He would bring his homemade setups of big, old rock cod reels. He would use them to lower a small cage baited with small hooks, baby mussels, and one open mussel. He would catch 4 to 5 pound piling perch. The neat thing was that no one copied what he did.
I remember going out to the pier at night to try and catch small blue sharks, soupfin sharks, and leopard sharks. We also learned to bring a gaff on a rope or a big hoop (crab) net. My mother had made the net by hand, so we could bring them up by hand. My dad was good at catching the sharks and I would catch the better crabs for dinner. There is nothing like it in the world, fresh crabmeat and some butter. It was so neat to see the boats going in and out of Port Hueneme Harbor at night. Plus the stars look so clear at night and you did not see any oil rigs back then.
When I was older, about 16 if I remember right, we loved listening to a rock station called KLOS out of LA on our Boom Boxes. They would play those tunes that were over the three and half minutes long. I can smell the salt air and feel the cold air around us as we stomped our feet to Peter Frampton singing “Do You Feel Like We Do” or some Steve Miller Band song.
There was also the time of the great squid run on Hueneme Pier We lowered our Coleman lanterns to attract the squid to come up as we threw our squid jigs down to catch them. I remember going home with about 28 squid that night. A friend, Mr. Quintana, made up some tasty dishes of the squid and the next night we returned to share the squid we had caught. It was kind of a squid chow mein, but man was it good. We, who fished the pier at night, truly felt like we were the kings of the pier. I can still hear the laughing and telling the stories of the ones that we caught and the ones that got away, and the ones that covered us in squid ink.
Now everyone has heard that the fishing is always better on the other side. Well yes and no. With my father we fished the jetties, Mugu Rock, Ventura Pier, Santa Barbara Pier, the Gaviota Pier, and, as I did in my travels, I also fished by the boat docks. But no matter what, we always came back to our home pier. I also remember eating my first sushi on the pier. We were catching bonito and a Japanese gentleman said, “Give me your fish.” So I gave it to him, he filleted it, cut it into chunks, broke out some soy sauce and wasabi, dipped the raw fish in the soy sauce and then told me to eat it. My dad said, “Go ahead and try it.” I did and it was good stuff.
I remember my last few days before I graduated from high school. I drove up to the pier with my buddy Grant and laughed because I saw all the new guys who would take over as I went to college. I still go to the pier from time to time. I took my dad out there before he passed on so he could fish. I was about 44 then. I remember him telling me that they are all gone now. I asked him, “who is gone dad?” and he said, “everyone, our friends and the fish.” He was right. The areas we fished are no longer there, storms took away the arms of the pier, and people took all the small fish. However, I still like to go out there because you still see them—the new pier people, the new pulse of the pier. It’s funny but you still hear about the ones that got away.
Now the piers have taught me many lessons about fishing. In about 1985, a friend took me to Lake Casitas and I saw the birth of the swim bait craze to catch a 10-pound plus largemouth bass. Throwing big lures for big fish, hummm, what a concept on, and at the time, on saltwater gear. I have been doing the fresh water bass fishing for about 20+ years and you have those same people as you did on the pier, we called them shoreline guy, which I was.
I now fish in fresh water bass fishing competitions with the B.A.S.S. Federation Nation. I was also the B.A.S.S. California Federation National State Champion in 2007-2008. I got to meet and am still friends with Ray Scott who started professional bass fishing in the United States. I also had a chance to qualify for the BASS Masters Classic in 2007 when I fished the B.A.S.S. National Championship at Lake Toho in Florida. I have also made a great deal of friends in the fishing world
I look back on those days and I am sure my folks would have never thought you could take fishing to the areas that I have. Therefore, my days on the pier gave me some great lessons. Old Joe taught me how to make the long cast, Mr. Chan taught me to throw the small ones back, and my mom and dad are always there when I needed their support. If it were not for them, I would have never become a pier rat or developed my love of fishing. Love you David and Jovita Torrez, your son Mark “The Chief” Torrez.
