Reece Coggins, Musician, Fisherman, Storyteller - Nez

The Lyman area became well acquainted with the Coggins Clan in the 1930’s and 40’s. There was the stern patriarch, Make Coggins (real name), his wife Sarah, his daughter Roxie, and sons Carl, Mike, Glen, and Reece. Every member of this clan was born in East Tennessee (Appalachia). That they ended up in Skagit County, Washington before WWII is the same story that’s been told time and again. Make was a logger in Tennessee, and logging shut down in Appalachia during the Great Depression, so he hoboed his way to the Pacific Northwest where they were still logging. Then, as many others from Appalachia did, he brought his family to Lyman and Skagit County. Make and his older boys logged, the younger ones finished school, and Sarah kept house.

By the 1950’s our family was close friends with neighbors Roxie and her husband Fred, as well as Glen and his wife Eileen, who was mom’s best friend, and their kids, and Reece and his wife Bernice, and their kids. We knew the whole Coggins Clan. And, of all the Coggins men Reece, to me, was the most interesting, and certainly the most fun.

Reece and Bernice had four kids, Terry, Calvin, Lillian and Donny. I was close to Terry and Calvin, so we were at each other’s houses frequently. Bernice did most of their household parenting unless she really needed Reece to get involved. He was more of a big kid than a parent except he could drink and the kids, of course, could not. The kids liked having their friends over as their dad did less drinking when there was company, especially kids.

At their house we pretty much expected to be entertained if Reece was home, unless he was already slumbering in a drunken stupor. Reece drank a six-pack of beer every day, more on weekends. He was a big garrulous guy who had fun with everybody. He always smiled and laughed, except when he was drunk. If you got to their house before he consumed or got too far into the six-pack he would play his guitar and sing. He would go to the kitchen and sing and dance with Bernice. He was good and often performed at dances. And he loved telling stories, and swore they were true, though we knew they were not. He was hilarious. He told jokes and always howled at his own punchlines.

Reece was fun to be around, even when he was fishing. In salmon season, usually the winter months after New Years, Reece would take the boys fishing at the Skagit on Saturday or Sunday mornings. He had a boat, but preferred fishing from the bank. If he found a place with really good footing Reece could cast out to the deepest part of the river channel, which was where salmon, steelhead and trout were.

Early one Saturday morning, a bunch of fishermen from Lyman were on the riverbank as the sun rose. King Salmon were running so real fishermen found their way to the river. There must have been ten or fifteen guys fishing from the bank that morning, and a bunch of kids, me included, were there watching. It was always fun when a bunch of fishermen showed up. Stories and lies and lots of laughs. Reece was there fishing with his boys and so were Ed Fore, Jim Price, Cecil Hittson, Merrit Melton, Onny Jackson, June Parker, and Eula Aiken. Guys were spread about five or six yards apart so they had room for casting. Those of us just watching knew there was a good chance at least one of those guys would hook a big fish. They usually did.

King Salmon are big, one could weigh over seventy pounds and they’re fighters. It takes a while to land one. Yet it didn’t take too long for Ed Fore to land a big one that morning, which he brought close to the bank so someone could gaff it for him. It weighed a little over forty-two pounds. Pretty soon our man Reece hooked a big one, which he declared was the “grand-daddy” of King Salmon. He fought it and worked to land it for well over an hour, talking the whole time. Others fishing nearby put their poles aside ready to help. Reece didn’t take a break or let anyone else work the fish either. He was going to  wear this big “daddy” out so he could land it. He grinned, “take my picture”, but nobody had a camera. He yelled, “get me a beer,” but nobody did. He couldn’t have drank it anyway, he was too busy. He was really working, give and take, making sure the fish didn’t break his line, with sweat running down his face, and a couple of times the fish seemed to be pulling him into the river, but Reece didn’t give in. He kept working.

By the time Reece landed that huge fish there must have been thirty to forty people on the riverbank watching the show. His brother Glen had shown up and it took both he and another guy to hook gaffs into both gills and haul that fish out of the river. When it was landed everybody applauded and Reece took a big bow and grinned from ear to ear, and laughed saying, “wait ‘til you hear this story.” And by that time someone had shown up with a camera, but Reece was too tired and the fish too big to hold up by himself, so he and his two boys and Glen held it across their chests for the picture. Then someone handed Reece a beer and he raised it to the fish, made a joke and downed the whole thing. Everyone applauded again and soon the men, without us kids, adjourned to the tavern, but not before Reece had cleaned his fish and his boys lugged it home to Bernice.

That fish officially weighed seventy-eight pounds, the biggest that I ever actually saw being caught in the Skagit River. Pictures of Reece and his catch appeared in the Courier Times, the weekly newspaper. Before long Reece’s version of catching the world’s biggest King Salmon, took on a life of its own. Reece was a good storyteller, and those of us who were there had us a big fishing tale to tell, too.