CLAMMING ALONG THE
MISSISSIPPI
BY T. P. GIDDINGS
PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR AND OTHERS
O pearl fishing is done on
the Mississippi River and
its tributaries—only
"clammin’." The form›
er name with all its
implied poetry of dusky
natives diving from"long, low, rakish craft" and returning to
the surface with both hands full of the pre-›
cious gems, is unknown on the river. No, it
is done in a far more prosaic way. For
many years pearls have been found in the
clams and mussels that are so numerous in
the lakes and streams of Wisconsin, Illinois,
Minnesota, and in fact all of the states of the
Mississippi Valley. In some of the Indian
mounds in Ohio and Indiana were found
stores of pearls, one mound yielding as
many as three bushels. The long burial
had spoiled many of them, but some of the
largest were "peeled" and found to be still
lustrous.
Twenty years ago a pearl craze started in
Wisconsin. Every one dug clams. Mills
stopped and the water was drawn from the
mill ponds that the people might get the
mussels more easily. Previous to 1895,
according to the government report,
$300,000 worth of pearls were found in
Wisconsin—Sugar River alone yielding
$10,000 before becoming exhausted. At
that time river pearls were not valued as
highly as "Orientals," but now they are
eagerly bought by jewelers.
Several years ago button factories were
established at various points on the Missis-›
sippi River. Men collected clams and
sold the shells to these factories to be made
into pearl buttons. Some pearls were
found and another craze soon started.
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Men flocked to the river from all walks of
life. White men, red men, black men,
brown men and women, all came, though
after a month of sun, wind, and river-water
coffee, racial characteristics were not
conspicuous.
In the summer of 1902 it was said that
20,000 men were clamming on the Mississippi and its tributaries. In the spring of
the next year the rush was even greater,
but this did not last long. Owing to
the overfishing of the previous season the
market was already overstocked and the
price of shells had dropped so low that by
July comparatively few boats were at
work. Many enormous beds that were
thought inexhaustible had given out, the
shell buyers rejected so many shells (only
about a quarter of those caught were salable even at the low prices then prevailing)
that in the latter part of the season the
river was almost deserted.
The price of shells has since risen to
several times what it was then, and all
kinds are bought, but the beds do not
yield as they used to owing to the wasteful
method of catching the clams, which kills
fully as many as are caught. The government should take immediate and effective
steps to protect these valuable bivalves, or
soon our river bottoms, which should not
only furnish jewels to bedizen those
clothed in purple and fine linen but buttons
enough to keep the raiment of the world in
place for all time to come, will be as valueless as the sands of the Sahara, and the
clam will have joined the bison and the
wild pigeon in the list of the has-beens.
Many valuable pearls have been found in
the last five years. One found near Lans-
The home of the fresh-water clammer .
ing, Iowa, in 1902, was sold in Boston for
$65,000. It was nearly an inch in diam-­
eter, flawless, and of the regular "pearl"
color. The "Queen Mary," found the
same year and in nearly the same place, is
now owned by a Chicago lady and cost her
$50,000. It is of a lovely pink color and is
somewhat the shape of a cranberry. It
was nearly lost to the world, however, as
the tired clammer overlooked it when he
was sorting over his shells just before his
late evening meal. His wife, waiting more
or less impatiently for him to finish while
the supper cooled in the near-by tent,
seated herself upon a pile of "culls," and
while idly tossing them about she noticed
something sticking to one of them. A
close examination revealed an enormous
pearl partially imbedded in the shell. In
his joy at the recovery of the fortune he
had so carelessly thrown away he declared
she must keep and wear the beautiful jewel,
but when a buyer appeared the same even-­
ing and offered her the price of a good
farm, a house in town, and enough besides
to keep them both running, they came to
474
the conclusion that while the jewel might
look out of place with her calico dress the
farm wouldn't.
Those who find these jewels do not have
to hunt for a market, as buyers from the
eastern jewelry houses patrol the river
banks continually, and report of a good
find brings numbers of them at once.
The element of chance in pearl fishing
makes it fascinating in spite of the arduous
labor. One may open a shell and find a
fortune, and then again he may not. If
one is willing to work he can make good
wages from the sale of shells, while the
added gain from pearls and slugs, some-­
times, not often, increases his income very
materially. The clams are found in beds
in the channel where the water is from five
to sixty feet deep. These beds vary in size
from a few to hundreds of feet in width and
from a hundred feet to five miles in length.
In the upper river clam beds are very
numerous and the supply should be prac-­
tically inexhaustible. The New Boston
beds have been fished for years and the
clams "bite" yet.
Clamming Along the Mississippi
A clammer’s outfit is inexpensive and
his wants are few. His necessities are a
clamming scow, a pair of "bars," boiler,
tent or houseboat, a cast-iron spine, un-›
limited hope and patience, an integument
impervious to heat, cold, moisture, mosquito, or invective. He should also possess
a penetrating voice and a large and com-›
prehensive vocabulary ever ready and
not liable to derangement under sudden
pressure, for the advent of a new clammer
upon a bed previously occupied is not
hailed with delight by those already there.
As the river and banks to high-water
mark are free to all, the newcomer can
only be dislodged by diplomacy or vituper-›
ation. At first he is told that "this is the
poorest bed on the river." "Worked here
all summer and never seen a pearl."
" Four miles up they’ve found lots of ’em."
If this fails and he doesn’t appear too
belligerent, reflections are made upon his
outfit, personal appearance, and probable
mental capacity. Should the tenderfoot
still display good staying qualities and an
ability to hold his own vocally, he is re-›
ceived into good and regular standing and
pearls are freely shown him.
The clam scow is a flatboat sixteen to
twenty feet long and four wide—not a
rapid craft by any means nor an easy one
475
to row. Nailed to each side of it are two
upright forked stakes four feet high, and a
gas pipe ten to fifteen feet long rests in
these forks. At intervals of four or six
inches strings or chains two or three feet
long depend from these pipes. At equal
distances along these chains or strings are
three or four small grappling hooks made
of common telegraph wire, having four
flukes, each as large as a large fish hook.
These are called "crow feet" and though a
primitive device, no better way has been
found to capture the festive clam. Two
of these patience-trying snarls of hooks
called "bars" belong to each boat, one on
each side, and the number of ways in
which these hooks may become tangled is
beyond human computation. Bars and
boat can be made for ten dollars or less.
The boiler is simply a large box with a
sheet-iron bottom placed over a trench in
the top of the river bank. The cost is
trilling, as only the sheet iron and two
joints of stovepipe need be purchased.
The lumber can usually be annexed and
the hole in the ground is already there if
you only dig the dirt out of it.
It is morning and the first faint flush of
dawn is just visible over the crests of the
towering bluffs and the merry mosquito
has sought his lair. The sound of oars
Back with a good catch.
Hard at the day's work—digging out clams.
A clamming village.
A cooking out—"Hold your nose firmly!"
breaks the silence and out from the shadow
of the tent-lined shore glide the clam boats,
their chains and hooks making them look
like huge centipedes. It is cold and damp.
Our boat reaches the head of the clam bed.
Splash! goes a bar and its myriad of
hooks to the bottom. The rope runs out,
forty feet of it, for here the water is
deep. The hooks catch the gravel, the boat
swings around sidewise to the current; a
practiced hand is laid upon the rope to see
if the hooks are dragging properly. If too
slow the "mule"—a canvas arrangement
—is thrown overboard to catch the force
of the water and so help us downstream.
If the boat goes too fast an anchor and line
are used. In dragging along the bottom
the hook enters the ever-open mouth of the
clam as he sits upright in the sand. He
promptly closes the narrow opening between his shells in a vice-like grip and is
dragged from his resting place. The boat
drifts fifty or a hundred feet, the muscular
clammer lays hold of the vibrating rope
and hauls the seventy-five pound tangle
of hooks, clams, and maybe a few snags,
to the surface and lays the iron bar in
478
the notched upright sticks. Out goes the
other bar and the boat swings around, the
other side upstream. A good catch. Pull
them from the hooks and sort them out.
Pull hard, too, for some of these veterans
have strong jaws and it is a poor idea to put
a finger or toe between them, as many a
swimming urchin has discovered. Throw
the "nigger heads" into one end of the
boat, the "buck horns" in the middle, and
the "muckets," "razor backs," and the
rest of the culls into the other end.
Verily, this is toil, and yet when these
shells are opened, mayhap jewels of price
will be revealed. Another trip and home
to breakfast. Two more and it is so hot
the water sizzles when it strikes the boat.
Then home again to cook the clams.
Shovel them into the basket, carry them
up the bank and dump them into the boiler
under the big tree. It takes half a ton to
fill it. Fourteen bushels! Fourteen trips
up the bank in this broiling sun! Pour in a
little water—not too much or you will overwork getting wood, and steam cooks better
than water anyway.
What frightful odor is this? "Have you
Clamming Along the Mississippi
479
never smelled a warm clam before? No? have taken a trip to Eorope and "she"
Well, you have something yet to live for." could have had a sealskin coat beside.
Feed the fire often. Hold your nose firmly
The meats are done, and behold the
and lift the cover. Yes, see them lie open.
result. A very small handful of ill-shaped
They are done. Shovel them out on the pieces of pearl called " slugs " and maybe a
sorting table, and while they are cooling small "shiner." The slugs will bring
draw off the water and search the bottom twenty cents to five dollars an ounce
of the boiler for "stuff." Sort out the according to size and quality. Take the
shells and throw the nigger heads into a clams and throw them off the wing-dam
heap. When the shell buyer comes along for the fish who will eat them greedily and
with his steamer and scows these will bring then hang around watting to be caught.
twenty dollars a ton; the buck horns After supper fish a while. You can defend
twice as much if you have enough to count. yourself from mosquitoes with the other
Throw the culls away if there are no pearls hand if you are spry. Also decide whose
turn it is to replenish the supply of grub.
or slugs sticking to them. Now look over
the "meats." How familiar they look! You can walk to town—it is only four
When we get back to town can we ever miles by land, or you can row—it is six
look an oyster in the countenance again? miles by water and only one way is upDoubtful. Well, here they are, three stream. Then to bed. There are no gay
bushels of boiled clams as tough as leather, bonfires for the tired clammer, nor is there
to be looked over carefully one by one. visiting to and fro. When night falls he
The slugs and pearls, if any, to be picked is as prompt as the chickens in going to
roost.
from the outside and the clam itself careSilence reigns. The long hard day is
fully pinched to see if anything precious is
ended and night throws her sable mantle
concealed within. Your fingers close upon
something hard and round and your eyes over river, camp, and cliff. The moon
rises full and round, till the familiar banks
glitter with greed. Out it comes. It lies
and bluffs disappear and fairyland comes
in your hand, dull and worthless, a "dead"
pearl, larger than the largest pea you ever instead. Calm, beautiful silence! but there
saw. Brown and lusterless as a pebble. is none to see and admire.
Why isn’t it "alive" and then one could
We must clam again to-morrow.
The cribs where shells are stored.