This Place was Built on Menhaden Fishing: Willis Baily of Morehead City

Reprinted from Tradewinds Magazine, 2022 by B. Garrity-Blake. Photo courtesy of Willis Baily

“For a young man coming out of high school, menhaden fishing has been a dream for me,” said 32-year-old Willis Baily of Morehead City, captain of the Grand Cheniere.

Unlike many who harvest or process the oily, bony menhaden fish (nicknamed pogie, shad, or bunker), Baily was not raised around the fishery, but both sides of his family worked on the water.

“My dad is a harbor pilot, bringing ships in and out of the port,” he explained. “That started with my grandmother’s brother Buddy Midgett who got into the tug and harbor pilot business.”

When Baily graduated from West Carteret High School in 2007, he knew he loved commercial fishing and being on the water. But menhaden fishing was not on his radar. The last fish factory in North Carolina – Beaufort Fisheries – had closed in January of 2005.

“I read something in the paper about Virginia boats fishing menhaden off the east side of the Cape,” he recalled. Baily liked the sound of that. “I applied with Omega Protein, thinking I might get a job fishing out of Virginia.”

Omega Protein is the largest menhaden company in the United States with plants in Virginia, Mississippi, and Louisiana. Menhaden, a prolific and sustainable fishery, is processed into high protein meal used in livestock feed. Omega 3 fish oil is used in nutritional supplements.

The company called Baily to see if he’d be willing to help finish out the last month of the season, but it was too short of notice. The following spring Baily heard that Captain Bobby Martin of Beaufort was putting together a crew to fish in the Gulf of Mexico. Willis Baily gave him a call.  

“Bob-O was hesitant at first, because I didn’t have any experience menhaden fishing. He asked, ‘How old are you?’ I said I’m 20. He said, ‘Come on! I need young men like you!’”

Baily was so excited he got in his truck and made the long drive from Morehead City, North Carolina to Cameron, Louisiana without stopping for food or rest.

“I drove through a little coastal town called Hackberry,” he said. He decided to push on until he got to Cameron to get something to eat before going to the fish factory. “Thirty miles later into the marsh, there was nothing to eat! Cameron was nothing but marsh down there!”  

Willis Baily boarded the FV Chauvin and met Captain Bob-O for the first time. “I was one of 13 green men – an inexperienced crew!” They got the vessel rigged up and within a few days set sail on a Sunday. Their first set of fish was a tough one.

“We got the biggest foul up and had to fight those fish to midnight to get them up. I didn’t know any better, I just thought that’s how it was.” Baily said he got in his bunk that night and pulled the covers over his head. “I cried like a little baby wondering what the heck I got myself into!”

The crew quickly learned the ropes, and by the next year they were “high boat” for much of the season, making top hauls in the fleet.

“Bob-O always said, ‘I might give out, but I’ll never give up’ and he stuck to that word!”

Baily's Grand Cheniere is currently high boat for the entire Gulf fleet, having caught some 67 million menhaden this past season. Captain Baily credits his success to his crewmen and to the skills he picked up from mentors in the industry.

“My mate, Jamario Eldridge from Mobile, started with me the first day we fished for Bob-O and we are still fishing together. My pilot is Howard Lewis from Beaufort. He helps get us on the fish and picks them up in that shallow water down in the Gulf - I can’t say enough about him. I got a great engineer – Archie Ketnor of Mississippi – and a hard working core of fishermen.”

Menhaden vessels deploy a set of small aluminum purse boats when fish is spotted. The purse boats run side by side, separating upon approaching the “body” of fish to encircle them with a large purse seine. When the purse boats come back together, the crew starts taking in the net and “hardening” the fish so they can be pumped into the mothership.

“In the purse boats we have men who work the bunt pile, corks, and set the rings. My crewmen are from all over, including Mexico, the Gulf states, and North Carolina such as Josh Taylor from North River.”

Willis Baily said that his favorite part of menhaden fishing is working together as a team. “You got 16 men on the boat and everyone’s looking to achieve the same thing. Everybody’s got to be clicking together.”

When Baily started out, it only took him three seasons to get promoted from the bunt pile to mate. He served as mate for Bob-O Martin on the Tiger Point for three years.

“I can’t say enough for what Captain Bob-O taught me. He’s a hard fisherman and a hard worker. I didn’t even know he was teaching me until I got a boat and became captain -- everything he taught me came into play.”  

Veteran fisherman David Willis of Beaufort was pilot of the Tiger Point while Baily was mate.

“I spent time in the pilot house with David Willis helping him run the boat at night. He was always smoking a pipe. He taught me a lot about navigation. Instead of using the Garmin chart plotter, he’d hold his lighter up to the compass making sure his degree was on. You can learn a lot from someone like him.”

Willis Baily became captain of the Grand Calliou at age 26. “Bob-O and David Willis prepared me for that – they both tried to kill me at one point! – by  taking me under their wing.” He shared a memory about his mentors that he said will forever be etched in his mind.

“I was in the purse boats with Bob-O on a big set of fish. A big storm was on us. Bob-O was excited, dancing! Everybody was pulling by hand. David Willis was pilot on the steamer – he got on that CB and was singing those old chanteys!”

Before the hydraulic power block was introduced in the early 1960s, African American crewmen sang work songs, or chanteys, to raise the heaviest sets of menhaden. David Willis’ long career extends back to the days of the men singing in the call-and-response style.
“Davis Willis was singing, lightning was popping everywhere, fish were going crazy,” recalled Baily Willis. “I’ll never forget that time – it’s a neat feeling to be part of something like that.”

Now that Baily Willis is captain, what does his typical work week look like? “We get a fish report Sunday morning from the spotter pilot who scouts for menhaden. I’ll read that report and let my crew know where we’re going and what time we’re leaving the dock.”

Schools of menhaden are so thick they’re called “bodies” of fish and look like reddish-brown islands floating in the Gulf from the perspective of the spotter pilots.

“If they report fish in the western Gulf near Oyster Bayou we’ll leave as early as nine or ten Sunday morning. If fish are closer in Mississippi Sound or Chandelier Sound– even if we jump across the Mississippi River on the Empire side, I’ll tell my men to be ready by 5pm, Sunday.”

When the fish are close and plentiful, it’s possible for Baily’s crew to load the Grand Cheniere in two sets on Monday, head back to the factory to unload, and set out again.

“You always want to be the first to unload,” Baily said. “It’s a strategy of when to run, when to stay, how to play the game.”

If the boat is a distance away when loaded to capacity, the company might send a run boat or carry vessel to pick up and transport their fish to the factory so the crew can keep working.

“Sometimes fishing’s real good and the company manager will put us on a limit to ensure that the factory doesn’t get jammed up with boats and the fish don’t rot. My boat carries 1.7 million fish – they might tell me to bring no more than 1.2 million.”  

A highlight of a crewman’s experience on a menhaden boat is the meals. The cook prepares a hearty breakfast at 5am, food that “sticks to your ribs” since the crew may be working until dark. For supper ribs, chicken, beans, and other dishes are prepared to satisfy a range of tastes.

“I wouldn’t be a cook on a pogie boat for all the money in the world! Imagine trying to keep 16 men happy for seven months!” Baily laughed. “A good cook has got to be stern -- you can’t have guys coming in wearing their oil skins and getting scales all over the galley.”

Even crewmen who live locally spend most of the season working and sleeping on the menhaden vessels. “They might get home Saturday morning,” Baily said, “but they’re back on the boat Sunday -- it takes a toll on everybody.”

Willis Baily said the hardest thing about menhaden fishing is driving to Louisiana and leaving his wife Collette and two small children behind in Morehead City each April for the fishing season.  

“It's hard to leave home. It takes a very strong woman to be able to handle everything for seven months.” Fortunately, he and his wife have family in North Carolina. “That’s what I love about Carteret County – everybody will jump in and help you any time.”

Baily wishes more young people from Carteret County knew about the menhaden fishery and the opportunity it presents, especially for high school graduates not on the college track.

“I would like to see young men from this area get into the business. You work seven months with five months off and can file for unemployment if you want it. We get benefits – a 401k plan, family health insurance. It’s a very good deal.”

Baily notes that few people in Carteret even know what a menhaden is these days.

“People have no clue that this place was built on menhaden fishing, not marlin tournaments. It kind of hurts because you’ve got great communities of hard workers like North River, South River, Harlowe, Morehead, Beaufort. Local people who fished have been shoved out the way.”

Anyone past or present in the menhaden fishery has Willis Baily’s respect. “I know what they’ve been through to get where they are. If you’re in the menhaden business you’ve got a family."   

Although menhaden factories no longer operate in North Carolina, and purse seine fishing has been outlawed in state waters, Willis Baily is living proof that the legacy continues in Carteret County.  

“It’s a good fishery, a clean fishery with very little bycatch,” Baily said. “I wish there were two or three factories lined up on Taylor’s Creek right now!”