Another day, another struggle with notorious big smallies

The author caught his first steelhead on May 1.
Gary Dodson
The author caught his first steelhead on May 1.
Gary Dodson and I went to the Salmon River in Pulaski, N.Y. April 30 to May 1, to see if we could catch the tail end of the steelhead run and maybe annoy some smallmouth bass.
I’ve only been once before, 20 years ago, and I forgot that the name of the town is pronounced “Pulask-eye,” NOT “Pulask-ee.” Yes, this would come as news to the Polish general whose name adorns the landscape in at least 17 places in the U.S.
We stayed and fished the Douglaston Salmon Run, where we had a nice little house to ourselves.
We dined on successive evenings at the bar of the Tailwater Lodge in nearby Altmar, where I continued my study of the American cheeseburger platter. While I still maintain that the World’s Greatest Restaurant is Mizza’s in Lakeville and the runner-up is the Roscoe Diner, I can report that the best cheeseburger platter yet is at the Tailwater Lodge. At 18 smackers, it is also the most expensive, but only by a few bucks.
Gary said there was another, earthier option with excellent chow, but the last time he went there it was Lynyrd Skynyrd Karaoke Night, and the peril was too great to risk another visit. Personally, I thought it sounded amusing, and was willing to brave the peril, but Gary said no, it was too perilous.
Day One: After leaving Lakeville at 4 a.m. and driving to Gary’s in East Jewett, N.Y., arriving at 6 a.m., the result was predictable. I forgot several key items when transferring my gear to Gary’s truck.
This is called “Paging Dr. Boing-Boing.”
The doctor makes an appearance every time I (or you) forget something, or lose something, or some other issue of fishing logistics comes up.
Dr. Boing-Boing can and will strike at any moment. Eternal vigilance is the only answer.
We found a serviceable wading belt at Fat Nancy’s; the single biggest tackle shop I have ever seen. And it was only ten bucks.
Monday afternoon we fished down where the Salmon River widens out into an estuary before it segues into Lake Ontario. I caught the first of several smallmouth bass that were all roughly double the size of the biggest smallie I have ever pulled out of the Housatonic.
It doesn’t look so hot in the photo, a combination of giant net and moderate wide-angle lens. So I put the net over my extra-extra large head (I wear a 7 7/8 hat) and Gary took a photo for comparison.
Some necessary context: The stretch of river we were concerned with is only about seven miles or so, from the lake to the hatchery. DSR has 2.5 of those miles locked up; anglers pay a daily fee to fish there. There is also a lot of public access, which gets pretty nuts in the peak salmon and steelhead periods. This was the off-season.
Apart from a small population of resident rainbows, the river is home to migrating fish: two kinds of salmon, steelhead and smallies.
The salmonids are headed home. Home is the hatchery. I don’t know what the smallies are doing.
I had to throw pretty much everything I know about fishing out the window. For starters, almost everybody I saw was using a two-handed fly rod or a center pin rod. My nine-foot eight-weight single hand fly rod was an outlier.
Second, even though I was standing in the middle of some sort of hatch, the fish ignored the bugs as far as I could tell. What they wanted was something large and hairy. The initial smallie took a size 6 conehead olive Wooly Bugger with rubber legs, and Wednesday’s steelhead obligingly chomped on a black version of the same.
Tuesday morning began with a Boing-Boing moment, as I managed to sprain my left wrist trying to operate the shower controls. Such is the price of cleanliness.
That ruled out fooling around with the switch rod I brought along, to see if I could puzzle it out.
We fished all day Tuesday, except for a much-needed siesta mid-afternoon. All we encountered were smallies.
Wednesday morning neither one of us could face trudging the mile or so down to the estuary again, so instead we trudged a different mile or so upstream.
I got my steelhead on a different single hand rod, a 10 foot seven weight that fishes better with a number eight line. It was a floating line, with a short leader consisting of about four feet of butt section and two feet of 1X fluoro tippet.
With some coaching from Gary, I managed to land the thing without a net.
In fairness, the steelhead seemed a little out of it. It dove, it tugged, it jumped once. It went this way and that.
But that first smallie put up much more of a fuss. Probably because it hadn’t been milked at the hatchery and wasn’t stumbling back to the lake.
Three days in Western N.Y. state was a serious dose of America. Rolling back into Salisbury Wednesday afternoon was like entering a theme park — Disney’s “New Englandland” or something.
Back in New Englandland, after disposing of some work chores, I ambled over to the Blackberry on a sunny and almost hot afternoon and had a good time catching a bunch of normal, unexciting regular trout that eat bugs.
This was promising enough that I inveigled a friend to give it a shot the next day.
You know what’s coming.
She hopped out of her car, only to discover she had remembered her waders but forgotten her boots.
“Allow me to introduce you to Dr. Boing-Boing,” sez I.
Luckily she had a pair of muck boots, which did the trick.
And then, after observing small children training to be Jedi knights at a “Star Wars” activity, I made my way up to one of my secret brook trout streams and found that the winter’s incessant rains and subsequent high water had reconfigured the brook, mostly for the better. I landed several and tickled more wild char, most of them attacking a size 8 Stimulator that was bigger than their heads. Some less ambitious fish hit kebari soft-hackles and the always-reliable Bread and Butter nymph.
There was no sign of Dr. Boing-Boing.
SHARON — Sharon Dennis Rosen, 83, died on Aug. 8, 2025, in New York City.
Born and raised in Sharon, Connecticut, she grew up on her parents’ farm and attended Sharon Center School and Housatonic Valley Regional High School. She went on to study at Skidmore College before moving to New York City, where she married Dr. Harvey Rosen and together they raised two children.
Sharon’s lifelong love of learning and the arts shaped both her work and her passions. For decades, she served as a tour guide at the American Museum of Natural History and the Asia Society, sharing her knowledge and enthusiasm with countless visitors. She also delighted in traveling widely, immersing herself in other cultures, and especially treasured time spent visiting her daughter and grandsons in Europe and Africa.
She was also deeply connected to her hometown, where in retirement she spent half her time and had many friends. She served as President of the Sharon East Side Cemetery until the time of her death, where generations of her family are buried and where she will also be laid to rest.
She is survived by her husband, Harvey; her children, Jennifer and Marc; and four beloved grandchildren.
Claire and Garland Jeffreys in the film “The King of In Between.”
There is a scene in “The King of In Between,” a documentary about musician Garland Jeffreys, that shows his name as the answer to a question on the TV show “Jeopardy!”
“This moment was the film in a nutshell,” said Claire Jeffreys, the film’s producer and director, and Garland’s wife of 40 years. “Nobody knows the answer,” she continued. “So, you’re cool enough to be a Jeopardy question, but you’re still obscure enough that not one of the contestants even had a glimmer of the answer.”
Garland Jeffreys never quite became a household name, but he carved out a singular place in American music by refusing to fit neatly into any category. A biracial New Yorker blending rock, reggae, soul and R&B, he used genre fusion as a kind of rebellion — against industry pigeonholes, racial boundaries and the musical status quo. Albums like “Ghost Writer” (1977) captured the tension of a post–civil rights America, while songs like “Wild in the Streets” made him an underground prophet of urban unrest. He moved alongside artists like Lou Reed and Bruce Springsteen but always in his own lane — part poet, part agitator, part bridge between cultures.
“I think what I tried to do with the film, wittingly or unwittingly, was just to show that we all have these lives and they don’t often meet our dreams of what we think we’re entitled to, we’re talented enough to get or whatever,” said Claire. “We all have these goals, but we’re sort of stymied. Often, it’s partly circumstance and luck, but it’s also very often something that we’re doing or not doing that’s impeding us.”
This is not the typical rock-and-roll redemption story. There are no smashed guitars, no heroic overdoses, no dramatic comeback tour. What we get instead is something quieter and more intimate: hours of archival footage that Claire spent years sorting through. The sheer effort behind the film is palpable — so much so that, as she admitted with a laugh, it cured her of any future ambitions in filmmaking.
“What I learned with this project was A, I’m never doing it again. It was just so hard. And B, you know, you can do anything if you collaborate with people that know what they’re doing.”
Claire worked with the editing team of Evan M. Johnson and Ben Sozanski and a slew of talented producers, and ended up with a truthful portrayal — a beautiful living document for Garland’s legions of fans and, perhaps most importantly, for the couple’s daughter, Savannah.
“She’s been in the audience with me maybe three or four times,” said Claire. “The last time, I could tell that she was beginning to feel very proud of the effort that went into it and also of being a part of it.”
Savannah pursued a career in music for a while herself but has changed tracks and become a video producer.
“I think she couldn’t quite see music happening for herself,” said Claire. “She was like, ‘I don’t know if I want to struggle the way I saw my dad struggling and I’m going to get a job with a salary.’”
The film doesn’t just track the arc of an underappreciated musician, however. The music, always playing, is the soundtrack of a life — of a man navigating racial, musical and personal boundaries while balancing marriage, parenthood, aging, addiction andrecovery. Garland and Claire speak plainly about getting sober in the film, a life choice that gave them both clarity and shows Claire as a co-conspirator in his survival.
“I did some work early on with a director,” said Claire. “He wanted the final cut, and I didn’t feel like I could do that — not because I wanted so much to control the story, but I didn’t want the story to be about Alzheimer’s.”
Diagnosed in 2017, Garland, now 81, is in the late stages of the disease. Claire serves as his primary caregiver. The film quietly acknowledges his diagnosis, but it doesn’t dwell — a restraint that feels intentional. Garland spent a career refusing to be reduced: not to one sound, one race or one scene. And so the documentary grants him that same dignity in aging. His memory may be slipping, but the film resists easy sentimentality. Instead, it shows what remains — his humor, his voice, his marriage, the echo of a life lived on the edges of fame and at the center of his own convictions.
The Moviehouse in Millerton will be screening “The King of In Between” on Sept. 20 at 7 p.m. Peter Aaron, arts editor of Chronogram Magazine will conduct a talkback and Q&A with Claire Jeffreys after the film. Purchase tickets at themoviehouse.net.
The Haystack Book Festival, a program of the Norfolk Hub, brings renowned writers and thinkers to Norfolk for conversation. Celebrating its fifth season this fall, the festival will gather 18 writers for discussions at the Norfolk Library on Sept. 20 and Oct. 3 through 5.
Jerome A. Cohen, author of the memoir “Eastward, Westward: A Lifein Law.”Haystack Book Festival
For example, “Never Take the Rule of Law for Granted: China and the Dissident,” will be held Saturday, Sept. 20, at 4 p.m. at the Norfolk Library. It brings together Jerome A. Cohen, author of “Eastward, Westward: A Life in Law,” and Mark Clifford, author of “The Troublemaker: How Jimmy Lai Became a Billionaire, Hong King’s Greatest Dissident, and China’s Most Feared Critic” in dialogue with journalist Richard Hornik to discuss the rule of law and China.
The Council on Foreign Relations stated, “Few Americans have done more than Jerome A. Cohen to advance the rule of law in East Asia. He established the study of Chinese law in the United States. An advocate for human rights, Cohen has been a scholar, teacher, lawyer, and activist for sixty years.”
Cohen, a professor at New York University School of Law and director of its U.S.-Asia Law Institute, revealed his long view on China: “We are now witnessing another extreme in the pendulum’s swing toward repression. Xi Jinping is likely to outlive me but ‘no life lives forever.’ There will eventually be another profound reaction to the current totalitarian era.”
Mark Clifford, author of “The Troublemaker: How Jimmy Lai Became a Billionaire, Hong Kong’s Greatest Dissident, and China’s Most Feared Critic.”Haystack Book Festival
In “The Troublemaker,” Clifford chronicles Lai’s life from child refugee to pro-democracy billionaire to his current imprisonment by the Chinese Communist Party. Clifford is president of the Committee for Freedom in Hong Kong Foundation, a Walter Bagehot Fellow at Columbia University, and holds a PhD in history from the University of Hong Kong. He was the former editor-in-chief of the South China Morning Post and The Standard (Hong Kong and Seoul).
Journalist Richard Hornik, adjunct senior fellow at the East-West Center in Honolulu.Haystack Book Festival
Richard Hornik, adjunct senior fellow at the East-West Center, will moderate the discussion. Hornik is the former executive editor of AsiaWeek, news service director of Time magazine, and former Time bureau chief in Warsaw, Boston, Beijing and Hong Kong.
Betsy Lerner, author of “Shred Sisters,” is giving the 2025 Brendan Gill lecture at the Haystack Book Festival.Haystack Book Festival
The Brendan Gill Lecture is a highlight of the festival honoring longtime Norfolk resident Brendan Gill, who died in1997. Gill wrote for The New Yorker magazine for fifty years. Betsy Lerner, New York Times-recognized author of “Shred Sisters,” will deliver this year’s lecture on Friday, Oct. 3, at 6 p.m. at the Norfolk Library.
Visit haystackbookfestival.org to register. Admission is free.