Louisville became home to the most innovative reel maker in 1882, when, after 30 years of watchmaking in Frankfort, B.F. Meek moved to Louisville at the age of 65 and resumed reel-making with a revolutionary gear design.
How good were the Meek reels? “To this day, you can still find competitors in long-distance casting contests using a Meek reel,” says Louisville reel expert Matt Wickham. “Nothing compares to the bench-made Kentucky reels.”
B.F. Meek and Sons was sold in 1916, but the Meek trademark was used for two more decades. Clarence Gayle’s death in the late 1940s brought the tradition of bench-made reels to an end, but by then the “Kentucky reel” had entered every angler’s lexicon and Louisville had taken the lead as sport fishing’s powerhouse.
“Louisville has a hugely rich fishing tackle history which is ignored and misunderstood,” says Dr. Todd E.A. Larson, a fishing historian and the publisher of Cincinnati’s Whitefish Press. “It was as important as Frankfort in some ways. Almost no one would know of the Kentucky reel makers except for the Louisville connection.”
That connection primarily came through Belknap Hardware and its West Main Street rival, Stratton & Terstegge. The two companies sold mass-produced fishing tackle – listed alongside a cornucopia of hard goods in table-sagging catalogs – to large and small retailers scattered across Dixie, the Midwest and points beyond. Orders for bench-made Kentucky reels came from as far away as Europe.
Belknap’s 1955 catalogue devoted 243 pages to fishing tackle, either made in-house or distributed from others. Stratton & Terstegge’s hard goods catalogs also featured a full line of fishing tackle, including the nation’s best-selling tackle boxes and minnow buckets. Its “Falls City” brand was as well-known as Belknap’s “Bluegrass” line, and both became synonymous with Louisville to anglers around the country.
Wickham says that for decades Louisville was the nation’s largest distributor of fishing tackle. But in time the need for middlemen declined. Belknap held on until 1986. What remained of Stratton & Terstegge was rolled into Do It Best Corporation of Ft. Wayne, Ind.
Specialty big box stores now operate their own warehouses. On the second day of Cabela’s grand opening at Old Brownsboro Crossing in April, cars idled in a half-mile line of traffic while parking was diverted to adjacent lots. The staff of 200, dressed in uniforms resembling those of park rangers, were tired but cheerful after stocking the store’s 88,000 square feet.
Mother Nature might be flattered that so much merchandise is being sold in her honor were it not for the gestalt of consumerism that hangs amid the racks of clothing and outdoor paraphernalia. Domesticating nature’s chaos seems to be the goal, with open water treated like a stadium by at least two bass-fishing organizations holding weekly tourneys across the country. Professionals in logo-laden clothing race speed boats to likely bass hangouts and are awarded points, NASCAR-style, for the heaviest catch. Seasons end in televised “super bowl” bass fishing finales. Even the University of Louisville now has a competitive bass fishing club.
Back at Karem’s, it is midmorning. Fessel is off to the next stop on his route – which includes fewer bait shops and more convenience stores than in the past – and Jury has sold bait to a handful of fishermen. He calls each one “Bud.”
When asked if he has any old baitcasting reels, Jury hops off his chair and clears a thicket of fishing rods away from a closet door, saying with wonder, “People buy these at yard sales and bring them in.” He emerges from the closet with a box of odds and ends. “I might have a baitcaster in here,” he says, poking about but finding none.
Karem’s is not the kind of place that stocks everything. But it is the kind of place where many boys had their first taste of fishing, and later, as fathers, take their sons to renew the tradition of bonding while putting worms on hooks and staring at floating bobbers. If our virtual culture of more, bigger, faster can still find room for “gone fishing” days, and if the exurban development that pesters the countryside can leave some space for the restorative power of the natural world, then the little bait-and-beverage shop that clings to the ridge might hold on for a few more decades.
The author, who works too hard and finds little time for fishing, operates the Tiny Bookshop in YesterNook at 1031 Goss Ave. Contact him at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. .