There is current in the St. Johns River now, Richard Saunders told me. That makes for good fishing.
“If the wind blows east-northeast and the river flows backwards, you won’t catch anything. But as long as it’s flowing north, which is what it’s supposed to do, you’ll have pretty good results.”
Mr. Sanders, 82, and his wife, Betty, 81, have done pretty well for more than 63 years on a small river that is Florida’s longest river and, as Mr. Sanders pointed out, a unique north-flowing river. Its headwaters are in Indian River County and its mouth is in the Atlantic Ocean near Jacksonville, the furthest point from which the Saunders Fish House ships its wild catch.
They sell directly to most restaurants – Shady Oak closest to home, Porky’s BBQ, DeLand Fish House, Drifter’s Riverfront Bar & Grill in Astor, and even Bradley’s and Corky Belle’s in Palatka. But some local savvy people come to buy their own freezers.
According to the U.S. Farm Bureau, farmed catfish will become the largest aquaculture industry in the United States by 2026, but competition in Asia is fierce. But at St. John’s, Sanders outran virtually everyone else.
When they first set up shop in the ’60s, there were a million metaphorical hooks in the water. Lately, it has been quiet even when I haul up my catch in the morning. Dead fish are thrown to the crocodiles when they learn they are being given a free meal. Sometimes they lie on the net and wait, which shows the reptile’s patience.
Mr. Sanders’ catch is the freshest.
Saunders and her two daughters immediately begin skinning the fish.
“I don’t chill the fish,” he says. “If you ice it first and then peel it, it doesn’t look as good. It looks crumbly. If you leave it fresh, it looks much better.”
Consignments are briefly bathed before being dispatched.
“I put them in a tub of water and let them cool down just enough that they don’t fly all over the table.”
Fans of wild catfish (mainly bullhead, red, yellow, and channeler cats) say this is the only way to eat this white, flaky catfish, and I almost agree with them. The cloudy taste of farmed fish can be caused by algae and bacteria in catfish ponds, whose compounds can be stored in the fish’s own fat.
Soaking in buttermilk is often used to remove that “cultured” flavor, but if it’s there, it’s there and turns the minced fillet into something that tastes more like a fish dish than fish.
“They taste like what you’re eating,” Jerry Sanders Ruth agrees. “And if they can eat a natural diet, even better.”
Circulating river water means there is no place for algal compounds to accumulate. If you keep swimming, you will lose fat and tone your muscles. And catfish naturally eat a wide variety of molluscs, small fish, crab fry, insects, and even rotten plants and animals, making them good food for us.
Grass shrimp and crawfish are also part of their natural diet, and the Saunders use 3,000 hooks for bait, or two sets of 1,500 hooks when using fishing line.
Luce said the nets are kept out most of the time, but are inspected regularly every few days, which helps prevent algae problems that plague fishermen as well as farmed fish.
“We replace it where there is no algae growth, so it’s easier for fish to get in,” she explains. “They can catch the scent of what’s there and won’t go into dirty nets. Plus, dirty nets are difficult and heavy to pull up.”
No matter the method, whether it’s netting or lining trout, they load it up on boats most mornings, pull it up, and transport it to their current location for processing. It’s a small concrete block house with a colorful mural. A cardboard sign written in black marker tells people driving up the dirt road to “honk your horn for fish.”
There is a large freezer outside and a processing room/slash office inside. They bought the land and built the place in 1998 about two miles from their home.
“Before that, I was skinning fish outside in my garage,” he says.
The two met in Kissimmee and married shortly after high school. Betty’s family, commercial fishermen, made their living on Lake Kissimmee, and her brother taught Saunders to fish, but soon more of Betty’s family came to DeLand, where she was originally from.
“He was into fishing like a duck to water,” she says of her husband.
Fishing methods back then were often… creative.
“The nets I use now were illegal back then,” he says. While people were watching, it was all they could do to line the trout, but many fishermen (there were more of them at the time) were doing what was called monkey fishing.
“That was a long time ago,” he said, describing the popular but banned process of electrofishing using an old-fashioned hand-crank telephone. Surprised by the current, the fish float to the top and can be scooped up in the net.
Of course, Sanders isn’t just catching fish in his net. On his desk in his office is a colorful collection of lures and lines, including a heavy, three-hook gator snatch. This is a temporary art installation. He purges it every six months. There will be more.
“I picked up a pistol there once,” he told me. “I picked it up with a grapple hook.”
Ruth’s husband is a police officer and was looking up numbers. The gun was returned safely.
“I still get it,” he says. “It looked like it had just been thrown in. It wasn’t rusty or anything.”
Ruth and her sisters grew up in the business, lining up tables after school and heading home for dinner and homework.
“Saturday morning, we didn’t go anywhere until we finished eating fish,” she said, noting that sibling squabbles were probably the most interesting part of their house.
“We had knives,” she jokes.
“But we got through it and came out better.”
Betty is now retired. She worked as a manager at Winn-Dixie for 20 years, but on this day she’s out riding her lawnmower alongside her husband. It’s a rare day with no fishing. They keep the grounds tidy.
“He ran this business for years,” she says. “Right now, I’m helping with everything, but he’s drawing the salary.”
“You are very helpful,” he tells her. “All the money is in one place.”
Betty scolds her husband for his 63-year marriage. Tomorrow is their anniversary.
“One thing I’m sure he didn’t tell you is that we never bought anything we couldn’t pay for. We worked, we saved, we bought what we needed. It was a blessing to us.”
Sanders may not be the young father Ruth remembers, who could wrap thick thread around his hands and break it, or tap the bottom of a thick Coke bottle to please her or his grandchildren.
“My heart is failing. I’m going to get out of here and probably fall, and that’s it.”
But for the time being, he says, there are just as many fish as ever. Perhaps even more.
“Because I’m the only fisherman here right now.”
Find me on Facebook, TikTok, Twitter, Instagram @amydroo or the OSFoodie Instagram account @orlando.foodie. Email: amthompson@orlandosentinel.com, and for more foodie fun, join our Let’s Eat, Orlando Facebook group.
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