Fricke Island: Erie Marsh Series, #2

By M R Gerbo

1969.  Fricke Island, isolated in the marshes of the western basin of Lake Erie, is home to grumpy old Forest Fricke, a commercial Lake Erie Fisherman.  He lives with his wife Fiona and 15-year-old twins Floyd and Freddie, also known as the Fricke Tag Team Terror Squad.

The Lives of the Fricke Family are transformed by outside influences and the need to survive.  For Forest, it is a tale of deep despair, and for Fiona, a tale of hope.

The story covers the island's darkest days during the prohbition era to it's emergence from isolation to become a vital part of the community.

In the first book of the Erie Marsh Series, POP's, where you were introduced to the Fricke Twins, the protagonist of that book, Mickey, was fishing on Lake Erie at the mouth of Wilbur Creek when the Fricke Twins chased him to the Fricke Island Compound.  That is where ths story begns from the point of view of the Fricke Twins.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M R Gerbo
• Release date: Aug 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201546625

M R Gerbo

M.R. Gerbo grew up in Michigan near the western basin of Lake Erie and spent much of his youth fishing and exploring the inland marshes. His career as a business executive took him to Iowa for most of his adult life. He now lives in Florida with his pretty wife of 47 years, Dr. Joan. He has always considered himself a writer and can now capitalize on the joy he finds in the written word. When not on his lanai writing, he can be found on the pickleball courts, in his wood shop, or playing with his band, the North Loop 4tet.

Book preview

Fricke Island

M R Gerbo

Forward

If you read the first book in the Erie Marsh Series, POP’s, you were introduced to the Fricke Twins. The Tag Team Terror Squad. They live on Fricke Island with their parents Forest and Fiona Fricke. This book will give you a look into the world of the Fricke family and delve into the despair of the past with hope for the future.

You may recall in POP’s, Mickey was fishing on Lake Erie at the mouth of Wilbur Creek when the Fricke Twins chased him to the Fricke Island compound. That is where this story begins from the point of view of the Fricke Twins.

About Fricke Island

1969. Fricke Island, isolated in the marshes of the western basin of Lake Erie, is home to grumpy old Forest Fricke, a commercial Lake Erie fisherman. He lives with wife Fiona and 15-year-old twins Floyd and Freddie, also known as the Fricke Tag Team Terror Squad.

The lives of the Fricke Family are transformed by outside influences and the need to survive. For Forest, it is a tale of deep despair, and for Fiona, a tale of hope.

The story covers the Island’s darkest days during the prohibition era to its emergence from isolation to become a vital part of the community.

Table of Contents

Forward

About Fricke Island

Table of Contents

Copyright and Disclaimer

Dedication

The Chase

GTO

Loft

Running with Deer

The Bike

Fiona

Beanie’s

OOPS

Claudia Goes to Fricke Island

Fricke Family Big House

The Proposition

Haircut

Phone

High School

The Drop

Jack Shit

Forest Alone

Jack in the Box

The Visit

The Call

Beanie’s Idea

The Big Worry

Slick Visit

The Plan

Jail

Matt

The Wreck

Hog’s

Slips

The Big Find

NO!

More Treasures

Slick Plan

Breakfast

Chaos

Forest Talks

Fiona Looks

Homecoming

Tommy Two Pockets

The First Ten

Forest and Beanie

The Big Opening

Slick and Forest

Trouble in Paradise

Claudia

What To Do

Rudy

Rudy and Forest

Short Trip

Slick at the Slip

Liquor Sale

Supper

Oh Beanie

The Day

Cap

Slick in the Office

A Mess

The Talks

Payday

After

Epilogue

About The Author

Copyright and Disclaimer

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in the book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The author has made every effort to ensure that the information in this book was correct at press time; the author does not assume and hereby disclaims any liability to any party for loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause.

Copyright TXu002193784, 2020 M. R. Gerbo

Front cover illustrated by James Sullivan.

Contact at: [e-mail] Instagram: @ in the U. S. A.

Edited and published by SWL Media and Learning Center.

Contact at: www.swlmedia.com   [e-mail]

Dedication

Betty Joyce Springstead.  Oh My Goodness!, she’s a good mom.

The Chase

They were out of season, but they didn’t care. They were hungry for turtles. They knew eggs were being laid on the north shore of Wilbur creek, and the best time to catch them was when the turtles head back to the water. They didn’t use standard traps. They used snares made out of 20 lb. test fishing line with two treble hooks tied into the loop. They placed this just below the surface of the water over an old tin can filled with dead shad, a snapping turtle delicacy. They only made one snare, not wanting to risk killing more turtles than they needed. For the last three days, they had been watching a big 15 lb. snapper, partially hidden under a bush, resting after laying her eggs in the sandy soil.

They knew where it came out of the water, knew where it would go back in, and knew it would be hungry. They set the snare that morning, expecting the snapper to head back to the water within the next few hours, as it had moved out from under the bush and was sunning itself.

They got back from lunch just as the big momma was starting her slow trek back to the water. They could have just grabbed her, but that wasn’t as much fun as watching the snare work. With the head caught, they would grab the tail, stretch out the neck and chop off the head with their machete. But that would have to wait.

Floyd touched Freddie’s arm and pointed to the bush. A five-foot fox snake was coming out from under a log and headed for the nest. A bonus!

We’ll throw it in the pot and let it cook with the turtle overnight. By tomorrow, all the little bones will dissolve.

No kiddin’ Floyd.

Ah.......... I’m Freddie.

You sure?

Pretty sure........... What did Ma call you last time we saw her?

First, she called me Freddie, and then she called me Floyd.

Maybe we’re Freddiefloyd.

Or Floydfreddie.

How bout we call you, you and me, me?

But what if I’m me and you’re you?

Oh.....

Still got onions?

Yeah, you were with me when we took ‘em from the big house.

I was busy grabbin’ flour. I didn’t watch what you were doing.

When the Twins wanted something from the big house, they’d wait until they saw one of the vans leave, knowing that Ma was dropping off or picking up D.A. and Pa didn’t give a rat’s ass what they were doing. In fact, the only time Pa paid attention to them was when the truant officer or the Sheriff came out to the Island. This suited them just fine. The less they had to deal with that old crank, the better. Not that he could hurt them or anything. The last time he tried smacking them around, they were 12 and their Pa, Forest, ended up swimming off the end of the dock.

Floyd stood about 10 feet away from the snake and threw the machete, neatly taking its head off.

He cleaned the blade while Freddie picked up the snake and put it in their rucksack.

I thought I was going to throw it.

You get to cut the snapper neck.

But that’s my machete. Where’s yours?

In my hand.

How can your machete be in your hand when that’s my machete in your hand?

Gosh.....I don’t know............but it’s my machete.

Isn’t that my machete in your hand?

Yeah......but it’s my machete.

But how can it be your machete in your................

What’s wrong?

I saw something.

What? Where?

By the lake. Something flash ...There it is.

They watched and there it was again. It was a fishing lure. Someone was casting near the mouth of Wilbur Creek where it emptied into Lake Erie. They got closer and could see him.

Is that what’s his name?

Yeah, it’s what’s his name.

What’s his name?

What’s his name.

No, what is his name?

Oh...ah perv ...perv......pervert?

No Pervitch.

"Is that the kid we pulled his shorts down...........?

They both had to stifle a laugh.

Yeah...Yeah......that’s him.

Should we do it again?

Nah, there’s no girls around. What fun would that be?

What’ll we do?

Leave him alone?

Can’t do that.

Nah, can’t do that.

He’s a runner, ain’t he?

Yeah, a runner. Let’s make him run.

I’ll get some stones and go to the left of the brush.

I’ll come up behind him.

Floyd went left and shook the brush. The kid turned and looked his way. Then Freddie did the same thing, and the kid turned in his direction. When he did that, Floyd threw a big rock out in the water. The kid turned all the way around just as the twins came out from behind the brush pile. He looked terrified, so they started tossing small stones at him. One finally hit him in the head. He turned and ran toward Wilbur Creek. Freddie ran parallel to him and didn’t give him any choice. It was either Lake Erie or Wilbur Creek. He chose to cross Wilbur Creek.

They watched as he started to run upstream toward an old abandoned bridge, but they knew he wouldn’t have a straight shot with all the undergrowth along the bank. On their side, all they had to do was run up Old River Road and cross the bridge before he got there. The twins were waiting for him when he came out of the brush. He was only 50 feet from the bridge but saw no way around them. So he headed at a 90-degree angle away from the creek.

The kid was fast, but the twins were runners too. They didn’t just walk to get someplace, they ran, and they knew all the trails and shortcuts. So they had no trouble keeping track of him. The kid was making it easy as he kept running in circles.

How long do you think he can keep going?

Til he stops.

Of course.

Let’s herd him back to the sheds and throw him off the dock.

Yeah, that’s good.

To keep him moving in the right direction, they kept howling at him and yelling.

Nowhere to hide Pervitch! Nowhere to go.

Gotcha’ now Pervitch. Gotcha’ now.

They had him cornered and left him no choice but to go through some dense brush. That gave them time to go around and flank him on both sides as he came to the edge of the compound. He started running around the old, dilapidated buildings while they kept up their taunts, pushing him closer and closer to the dock. Then the kid made a sharp cut between two sheds, and before they could get to him, he was running up the steps of the big house. They heard him knocking on the door as they came around the sheds. Too late.

What are you two up to?

Nothing.

What do you mean nothing? You been bothering this boy?

Nah. Just having some fun.

How’d you get here, boy?

I ran.

Ran from where?

Other side of Wilbur Creek on Lake Erie.

What? Why were you running?.......Oh, never mind. What have I told you two about bothering people?

Sorry, Ma, we didn’t mean no harm.

"No harm? He’s wet, and all cut up and look, he’s shaking like a leaf.

You two go down to the boat barn and see if Pa needs some help."

Yes Ma’am.

I’ll see to you two later.

Come on in son, let’s get you by the fire, and I’ll make some hot chocolate. It’ll warm you up.

GTO

You going to see if Pa needs help?

Why?

Cause I’m not.

You’re not, but you thought I would?

I thought you might, but I’m not.

Why did you think I might, but you’re not?

Ma.

Yeah, Ma.

Yeah, Ma.

This was a tough decision for the twins. Not doing what Ma asked was like opening the gates of hell. She was a big strong woman and could intimidate a junkyard dog, but that wasn’t it. It was her ability to dress them down with a look that no one short of the devil could do. She could make them want to crawl under a rock and never come out. They were terrified of her and only her. She could make them cry.

At 15, they were 6’1" and 190 lbs. of solid lean muscle and were both born fighters. Alone they could take on anybody in a three-county area, but together they were known as the Fricke Twin Tag Team Terror Squad. Their bushy bright red hair and piercing green eyes gave them the intimidating look of Celtic Warriors that tormented the Romans. They were feared, and with good reason.

Three years earlier, they went to a football game so they could pick pockets from under the bleachers. They did it more for fun than the money. They managed to get a wallet from one of the local hard guys, Danny Frescura. While they were below taking his only 3 dollars, 18-year-old Danny came charging up and grabbed them both behind the neck, which was like grabbing two wolverines. At that time, Danny had a good 12 inches and 70 lbs. on them, but it didn’t matter. Floyd grabbed his legs and Freddie pulled him down. Then they gave him the beating of his life. As they were walking away laughing, Danny yelled out,

Fuck you, Fricke sons of bitches.

So they went back for round two.

But their mother, Fiona, was another matter.

Let’s go ask him.

Yeah, he’ll probably tell us to get lost.

Good, let’s get lost.

Ever been lost?

If I have you have.

If you have, I have?

Have you ever been lost?

No.

Ever been anywhere without me?

No.

Then, I’ve never been lost.

Okay.

They went to the boat barn and found Pa at a bench working on the lower unit of a small outboard motor. He had an ever-present White Owl cigar in his mouth that probably went out yesterday, and he didn’t bother to light it today. But that didn’t matter to Forest. It was just there and acted as his pacifier.

Forest looked like a stump. His upper body was disproportionately large in relation to his 24-inch inseam legs. Fiona had to buy him 40 waist pants and cut the legs down to fit him. But even with the 24-inch legs, Forest still stood 5’8 and wore 2x shirts. To make matters worse, he wore size 13 eeee boots. He took short steps without bending his knees and clomped his way around, much like a duck. Forest was strong and had hands twice the size of a normal man’s hand due to all the years of manual labor.

He was a Lake Erie commercial fisherman. In the winter, he repaired boats at his tiny marina. He was also a scrounger and trader, and was always on the lookout for anything not locked down. But he had a pretty loyal clientele. They knew the job would be done right and for a fair price. They just didn’t ask where the parts came from. They trusted Forest, even with his reputation, because Forest was devoted to his customers and would never consider stealing from one of them. That just cut against his grain.

Forest was on his second family. His first wife, Fern, had died 17 years earlier in 1952 from Leukemia and left Forest with three teenage girls. A year later, he met Fiona, who was 22 years old at the time and desperate to make her own life away from her family. Forest was twice her age, but she didn’t mind. Fiona didn’t have many prospects at 6’3" and 330 lbs. So, when Forest came knocking, she was ready.

A year later, the twins arrived. The next day, the last of his first family left the island.

Ma told us to come to see if you need any help.

Get lost.

The twins turned around and just about made it out the door when Forest yelled at them,

Hey, wait a minute.  Come back.

They slowly turned around and shuffled back to Forest.

Where’d that car come from?

What car?

"Yeah, what car?

What car? The one in the shed north of the house.

Oh, that one.

Yeah, that one.

The twins just stood there looking at him. Forest waited, then rolled his eyes and said;

Well, what about it?

Found it.

What?

Yeah, we found it.

Where?

Behind Hoppy’s.

Yeah, Hoppy’s.

How did you find it there?

Saw it from the river.

So, you just took it?

We first saw it before winter, and it was still there last week. So, we figured nobody wanted it.

How did you get it here?

They looked at each other and started to laugh.

Drove it.

Yeah, drove it.

Okay. You drove it here. Did you have a key?

Keys were in it. It wouldn’t start, so we took a battery back and got it started.

So, that’s where the battery went for King’s boat.

You want it back?

What do you think?

You want it back.

Forest never knew who he was talking to. It was like talking to one person anyway. He could never tell them apart, and he wasn’t sure Fiona could either. As a result, he didn’t think the twins knew who was who, but they didn’t seem to care as they operated as one unit anyway. Each was a Fricke Twin, and that’s all they needed to know.

What are you going to do with it?

Put it back.

You’re going to put the car back?

No, the battery.

What are you going to do with the car?

Don’t know.

Yeah, don’t know.

Well, I’ve gotta’ go into Beanie’s in the morning for a case of Marine oil. I’ll call Jack and see if he wants it. Maybe I can get a few hundred bucks for it.

Who?

You know Jack. Jack Drumheller.

Who?

One-Eyed Jack.

Oh, the wheelchair guy.

Yeah, him.

You need us to go?

They always liked going to Beanie’s.

No. Now get lost.

Loft

They quickly left before he wanted anything else.

Turtle.

Yeah, where’s your machete?

I left it with the snake in the rucksack by Wilbur Creek.

That’s my machete. Where’s yours?

No, that’s mine. Yours is on the wall in the loft.

Let’s get it and then get the turtle.

They went up the outside stairs of the boat barn to their loft to retrieve the machete. They had two nice rooms at the big house, but preferred to stay in the loft. It was roomy with a small kitchen, a table, two chairs, a stove, and a dorm-sized refrigerator. They slept in hammocks and used one of the pine walls for target practice.

They could throw and stick anything from any distance, angle, or physical position - a knife, an ax, a hatchet, or a machete. It didn’t matter. They were naturals. The past two years, they won the ax-throwing contest at the Huron River Canoe Festival. The organizers didn’t know if it was Floyd or Freddie, so the trophies just said F. Fricke.

The loft was built for a lookout during prohibition. The lookout spotted boats coming off the lake at night and then turned on a series of soft lights that guided the boat past a break wall to the channel by Fricke Island. The boat stopped about 50 yards away at a gate and, once identified, was let through to unload its cargo. There were several warehouses, all with false walls and hidden rooms to store the booze until it was picked up or transported out on the lake to other locations. The boys fixed up the loft and started sleeping there two years earlier. It was six weeks before Fiona or Forest noticed.

Then they started fixing their food there. They were rarely seen at the big house, even though Fiona knew they were taking food while she was gone. She had a good idea of what they would want, so she made sure to have extra on hand. What started as an adventure soon became the norm. They stumbled across a book at the school library, Living off the Land in a Modern World by CJ Pickens. Written in the ’30s to help people survive the depression, it showed in graphic detail edible plants like mushrooms, where to look for them and how to harvest them. How to prepare squirrel, rabbit, duck, and turtle and just about anything else that walked, flew, swam, or crawled in North America. It even told about which snakes were edible and how to fix them. After reading it several times in the library, they just took it.

They preferred to eat food they harvested but realized they were limited in their choices, so they had no problem occasionally taking the necessary staples from the Big House. And they were pretty good cooks too. Once in a while, Forest would smell something cooking and go up to the loft and ask for a sample. It was good, and there was usually enough for Forest to take some to Fiona at the big house. They just didn’t want to know what they were eating. The twins enjoyed that, and if they had something special, like roast duck with wild rice and mushrooms, they would be sure to bring some up to the big house.

Running with Deer

They got the machete and ran back to Wilbur Creek at top speed. They had great endurance and were fast, with the ability to run in silence.

They practiced by running up on deer. Once located, one of them got downwind, and then the other went upwind so the deer could smell them. With the deer distracted, the downwind twin ran up from behind and smacked it in the head as he went by. Usually, the deer would be startled and take off in the opposite direction. Once Floyd hit a buck during the rut, and it chased him until he ran it past Freddie, who broke a stick across the buck’s nose, stunning it and causing it to stop and shake it off.

One time in the boat barn, they heard the song Lady Godiva on the radio, and Forest explained that she was riding buck naked.

They went up to the loft and thought about this.

If a lady can ride a buck naked, why can’t we?

We can.

I’ll go first.

What about your nut sack?

But that wouldn’t be riding the buck naked, and if she can, we can.

Yeah, but she doesn’t have a nut sack.

The debate went on for hours. Then Freddie had the answer.

A jockstrap. Wear a jockstrap.

Yeah, protect the nut sack, but everything else is naked.

Works for me.

Works for me.

The next day they used the same routine, and Floyd stripped down to a jockstrap. The buck was a beautiful ten point and was just getting ready to bed down for the morning. It picked up Freddie’s scent, and Floyd came swooping in and jumped on its back. The buck ran about twenty yards, dropped its front legs, and threw Floyd into a marsh pond. The puzzled buck stood there, stomping a