just remembering my old fishing friend that is fished with a bunch of times on the madison river in west yellowstone in the 1970's.
looked up a couple articles on him.
Jim Deren and the Angler’s Roost
In my last column, I briefly mentioned a now defunct tackle shop known as the Angler’s Roost. From 1952 through 1958 it was my good fortune to spend my lunch hour, or longer, in the magical confines of Jim Deren’s establishment.
In the February issue of Field & Stream, John Merwin, the initial editor of Fly Rod & Reel magazine, states that, “in the mid 1950’s Abercrombie & Fitch, at Madison Avenue and 45th Street, was the center of the American sporting universe.” Perhaps for those who were hunters, but as for fishermen, I must respectfully disagree with Mr. Merwin. A & F was a great store. I dropped some nickels there myself. However, for those who fished, the center of the universe was located in the basement of the Chrysler Building at Lexington Avenue and 42nd Street. Albeit that the management of the building insisted on referring to the basement as the “lower arcade.”
The proprietor of this fishing tackle shop was a larger-than-life character named Jim Deren. The Anglers Roost was such a successful shop that its name was known from Canada to Florida and beyond to Chile and Argentina. All types of fishermen, those who were famous and those who were unknown, were drawn to the Roost as if sucked by the power of a black hole. Titans of the business world, heroes from the fields of sport, angling authors, newspaper journalists, famous musicians, all passed through the door of Deren’s emporium.
All this, despite the fact that Jim ran the place in a manner that broke every rule of successful retailing. Business hours from nine to five? Not at the Angler’s Roost. Deren was rarely open for business before 11:30 am. He closed the door any darn time he pleased. Many a time I heard a customer complain that he had been there yesterday only to find the shop closed. Jim would laugh and jovially tell the law, “Well, I’m here now.” The customer would invariably smile and make his purchase. It was hard to be angry with Jimmy Deren.
On two occasions when Jim and I were momentarily alone in the shop, he had the opportunity to introduce me to a couple of well-known customers. The first time, a tall, very solid looking, well-dressed gentleman had come into the shop. He and Jim greeted each other with a string of profanities and a series of rib-cracking bear hugs. When the cussing and wrestling were finally over Jim introduced me to a Mr. Smith. It was not until Mr. Smith had exited the door that I learned that I had just shaken hands with the president of American Airlines.
Shortly thereafter, a slender fellow dressed in sport clothes came into the Roost. He looked vaguely familiar to me but I did not recognize him.
Jim made a big fuss over this guy, calling him Teddy. I gathered from their conversation that he was one of Deren’s salmon fishing buddies. With a big smile on his face, Jim turned to me and said, “Hey kid, c’mon and shake hands with Ted Williams.” Unbelievable! As we shook hands, Ted Williams said how pleased he was to meet me. I cannot begin to remember what it was that I stammered in reply.
There was a small group in the shop known as the Cracker Barrel Crew. These fellows were in the Roost nearly every weekday. Since Deren usually had no other sales help, the members of the crew were allowed to wait on customers when the shop became unusually busy. Jim had apparently read Tom Sawyer. Over the years a great many fishermen hung out at the Angler’s Roost. It was extremely rare for Deren to indicate that any of them had become members of the Cracker Barrel Crew. There were three essentials for anyone to become a recognized member of this tightly knit group.
First, it was imperative for Deren to take a liking to you. Deren was friendly to everyone; however, he very rarely added new members to the crew. Secondly, the crew clearly had to have no objection to your presence in the shop. Third, if Jim began to call you by your first name or tagged you with a nickname, you had made the cut. To the regret of many, it did not happen often. Since I was far younger than any of the crew members, I had resigned myself to simply playing the part of a fly on the wall. I was happy just to listen to these fellows debate the finer points of fly fishing. It was like taking a Ph.D course in fishing for trout.
One day late in April, the shop was overrun by customers and visitors. Several Cracker Barrel Crew members were already waiting on people. Deren was at the rear of the shop showing a fellow an expensive bamboo rod when another customer interrupted to ask about flies. Unexpectedly, Deren turned to me and barked, “For Chrissakes kid, will you show this guy what flies he needs for the Beaver Kill this weekend?” Though I could not believe my ears, I quickly scurried behind the counter and proceeded to sell the gentleman some Red Quills, Hendricksons and small Blue Quills. The fellow paid cash. Now I was stuck. I had never worked a cash register.
Deren glanced over at me, holding the money in my hand and growled, “Well are you going to put that in your pocket or in the cash register?”
Luckily for me Ray Church was standing at the register. He gave me a wink of congratulation and showed me the sequence of keys to hit. From that day forward I was a member of the Cracker Barrel Crew. I never did learn what I had done or did not do that earned me Jim Deren’s stamp of approval. I could hardly wait to get home to tell Barb the great news. My little lady was not all that impressed. Sic Transit Gloria.
OUTDOORS; ANGLER'S ROOST A LURE TO THE END
By Nelson Bryant
Published: March 24, 1985
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BEDFORD VILLAGE, N.Y. ritt BuLIKE salmon resting momentarily in their upstream spawning run, a large crowd of eager devotees of angling, its equipage and its literature, milled in front of Bedford Historical Hall shortly after dawn Friday, waiting for the doors to open at 8. The occasion was the start of a two-day tag sale and auction of the contents of the late Jim Deren's Manhattan-based Angler's Roost, an establishment whose siren call to anglers from all over the world belied its cramped quarters. Part of the public's fascination with the affair - the earliest customers, John and Maureen Liberati of White Plains, were on hand at 5:20 A.M., and by noon about 500 more had followed them inside - is a tribute to Mr. Deren's reputation as a first-class angler, raconteur and salesman. Also responsible is a burgeoning interest in collecting antique fishing gear. Only a small percentage of the material at the sale could properly be called old or antique, but the possibility of such a find clearly brought many to the hall, which is an antique itself. Formerly a church at Bedford Four Corners, it was hauled to its present location in 1837 by 20 yoke of oxen. The hall was filled with an astonishing array of rods, reels of all types, fly lines, old fishing magazines and books, canvas and wicker creels, leaders, waders, trout and salmon flies, fly-tying materials and vises, fresh- and saltwater lures, knives, arrows, bows, filing cabinets, fly books and boxes, studs for wading shoes, shirts, jackets, foul-weather gear, fishing caps and a few undistinguished cork-bodied duck decoys. The Angler's Roost was first situated at 207 East 43rd Street, then in the Chrysler Building and, finally, at 141 East 44th Street near Grand Central, where Mr. Deren held forth until shortly before his death in 1983. Space was limited in each of those locations. At the last place, one felt crowded if more than two other customers were present. The room was jammed with fishing gear, in the midst of which Mr. Deren presided, usually in a sitting position. Frequent visitors to the shop were aware that much more stuff was stored in large back rooms, but they could only conjecture what was there. Admitting that they and their co- workers were overwhelmed by the number of items unearthed, the key people in organizing the event, Hoagy Carmichael Jr. and Judith Bowman, both of Bedford, N.Y., speculate that. for many, part of the appeal of the sale and auction was the long-awaited chance (an angler's most valuable trait is patience) to finally see what was in those other rooms. Although there were hundreds of valuable items and splendid bargains - salmon and trout flies fly rods and fly-line reels notable among the last-named - in Friday's tag sale, most of the truly choice and expensive items were disposed of in yesterday's auction. They included handmade split bamboo rods by such legendary makers as Edmind Garrision, E. F. Payne, Harold (Pinky) Gillum and Hiram Leonard. The auctioneer, Paul Wight of Plattsburgh, N.Y., had a somewhat unresponsive audience with the beginning items - old magazines and catalogues - but the bidding picked up when books and trout and salmon flies went on the block. In one instance, a single Whirling Dun trout fly sold for $90. The bidding for reels was spirited. A Hardy 12/0 Zane Grey big game reel went for $2,000. Handmade split bamboo fly rods also fetched handsome prices. An 8-foot Garrison was purchased for $1,900. Among those who traveled the farthest to get to the sale was Art Warner, who described himself as ''a trout-fishing nut from Southern California.'' ''When I told some friends that I was taking some time off for a trip, they assumed it was an angling adventure and were astonished to find that I was flying to New York City,'' Mr. Warner said. ''Although I grew up in Binghamton, N.Y., I never had the good fortune to meet Mr. Deren, but, of course, I knew of him.'' As he spoke - he had already bought more than $100 worth of gear - he was fondling a leather case for a revolving-spool reel. Another customer, Frank Almquist, of Woodstock, N.Y., had visited the Angler's Roost. Mr. Almquist, who is the president of the Catskill Mountain Chapter of Trout Unlimited, and his wife, Wendy, had purchased a seven-foot South Bend split bamboo fly rod, 15 boxes of dry fly hooks down to No. 26, which are so tiny a sneeze would send dozens of them flying, and a bag full of fly-tying materials, including an excellent blue dun saddle hackle and a good supply of wood duck feathers. The lure of the Angler's Roost to fishermen who either lived in or visited Manhattan was intense. In his ''Catskill Rivers,'' published shortly before Mr. Deren's death, Austin Francis said that the Angler's Roost ''is the only decent tackle shop left in Manhattan that caters to Catskill anglers.'' Some of Mr. Deren's fishing companions recall that as he grew older (he was in his 60's when he died) he was possessed by the fascination of what is difficult and would devote the better part of a day, sometimes unsuccessfully, in working a fly over the lairs of truly large and wise trout, while smaller and less sophisticated fish nearby would hit almost anything. Those who visited his shop included Presidents or their emissaries, captains of industry from this country and abroad and figures from the world of entertainment and sports, Ted Williams among the last-named. NMr. Carmichael expressed astonishment at the interest in the liquidation. ''It's incredible,'' he said, ''If you announced that you had five union suits once worn by George LaBranche, you'd have 100 buyers in 24 hours.'' Mr. LaBranche is the famous Catskill fly-tyer who was a key figure in adapting the techniques practiced on England's sedate streams to their turbulent American counterparts. The aforementioned $90 Whirling Dun was tied by Mr. LaBranche.— photo of Al Wolfinger
