I’d just clocked-off from a 12 hour night shift at Van Den Berghs & Jurgens, the home of Stork Margarine and my personal supplier of bait flavourings, and was scanning the Anglers Mail Swap-Shop whilst waiting for my driver to appear. At that time the Swap-Shop columns were dominated by ad’s for North-Western, Fibatube, canvas brolly-camps and moon boots (worn once) but I had eyes only for a Richard Walker MKIV carp rod.
Such offers were not exactly rare at that time but bitter experience had taught me to strike while the iron was hot or face disappointment. So when the magic words jumped out of the page I fought off the call of sleep and re-entered the factory to call the North London number. An early-morning voice confirmed that the rod was still for sale but would go to the first person who called personally with the required £12.00
“Is it in good condition?” I asked. It was apparently, so I swore – as on the bible – that I would turn up at his home that evening and that I would definitely buy it. He promised to turn down all other offers on condition that I kept my word! So for the next twelve hours a guy in Woodford Green turned away caller after caller while sweating on my eventual arrival and a guy in South Ockendon suffered daytime-nightmares about a bloke who’d lost his nerve and sold the rod.
On my arrival that evening the vendor ushered me in from the rain and thanked me for keeping my promise as both the doorbell and the telephone hadn’t rested all day; equally grateful, I asked to see the MK IV. He took the stairs two at a time and reappeared in a matter of seconds with the rod. He handed it to me. Savouring the moment, I pulled on the lace as James Bond might unfasten a blouse….but what was this – some kind of joke? The whippings were black!
“I think you’ve wasted my time” I ventured, “this clearly isn’t a MKIV” He assured me that it was, indeed, a MK IV and urged me to draw out the sections from the bag. Disdainfully I did as he asked, shaking my head and jabbering on about wine colour whippings and agate eyes….and what was this peculiar ferrule? The male featured a sort of inner-core…and the handle? Where was the familiar shoulder? “I’m afraid it’s not a MKIV” I repeated, but I fixed the sections together more out of habit than for any love I had for the rod.
“There!” he said, fingering the first few inches of cane, “Richard Walker MKIV”. I calmed down and brought the legend up to my eyes…below it, a gold emblem bearing the name “B James of Ealing” and the pledge “Built to Endure”. I studied the signature, penned vertically on a single facet, and could neither see nor feel a transfer-edge. Curiouser and curiouser, I slowly ran my eyes up and down its length, noting the whitish butt-eye lining, the matching tip-eye and the metal collar that married cork to cane. Containing my enthusiasm I volunteered that it was a nice rod, carefully tucked it back into the bag and happily parted with the modest asking price.
For reasons I don’t understand it wasn’t until the mid-eighties that I made the effort to determine the rod’s precise history; on reflection though, the reverence such rods are now afforded was far less intense, and with new wonder-materials to concentrate anglers minds I received no interest whatever for my once-in-a-lifetime find. I recall taking it to a club meeting and having its presence announced in ‘any other business’ only to see the room hurriedly empty in the direction of the bar! Nobody took so much as a casual interest, leaving me and my mate – the rod – to seriously question their pedigree. Even Martin Gay pronounced it a fake.
I fished with it once; in a way and at a venue far below its station, humiliating it with a 3lb pound bream before confining it to the garage for a further ten years.
In 1983 I wrote to Richard Walker at his home in Biggleswade describing my find and requesting further information, and true to his reputation a reply winged its way back within 72 hours. He explained that my rod was one of a small batch made in 1952 by the enterprising B. James & Son following the capture of the record 44lb carp; he had wanted to ensure that B James’ proposed product was to his specification and worthy of his name prior to mass production. Duly satisfied, he autographed the first few in a gesture of goodwill and the hope of precipitating a successful product-launch.
A month or two before writing to Mr Walker, I’d had a letter published in Coarse Fisherman magazine vehemently disagreeing with a point he’d made in the previous edition, so fearing that he might recognise the name and choose to ignore my request for information, I signed my letter in the name of my brother. His reply was, then, addressed to him…shame. Years on, a photocopy of the 1952 letter written to B James & Son by Richard Walker was passed to me by Kevin Clifford, nicely linking with my letter from Mr. Walker.
Up until July ’92 my MKIV merely hung from a nail in the garage; occasionally it was shown the light of day, assembled, swished-about, admired and re-hung on the nail. Earlier in that month I had resolved to make contact with Bernard Venables to thank him for all he’d done and achieved over the years, and in the search for his address I found myself talking to a vintage-tackle collector; one thing lead to another and I found myself contemplating the sale of the rod: the family holiday was booked and the buckets and spades were all but packed – but I had no spending money! And what good was The Rod, unknown and all alone in my garage? Wouldn’t it be better as part of a cherished collection, to be exhibited as part of carp-fishing history? I convinced myself of the need to sell and (full marks to my buyer for his ‘cool’) I agreed to take it to his home the next weekend. Divulging details of tackle-transactions is not the done thing but the deal was mutually satisfactory and one which fulfilled my buyer’s dream whilst furnishing me with a ‘package’ that I treasure to this day. My family had a great holiday that year and I did, indeed, get to correspond with Bernard Venables.
Cliff Hatton
