Concrete and steel cannot contain man's atavistic yearning for water's soothing scene. The anglers shown here have fled the turmoil to relax for a few hours in the summer's breeze at New York's Coney Island pier and on the wharves and bulkhead banks of the East River (opposite). There are kindred spirits on the West Coast, too, who fish the cooler—but not much cleaner—waters of the Pacific (following pages). The catch is important, but not as important as relief from the worries that thrive on the raunchy streets a few yards away.
The July breeze can be brisk on San Francisco Bay and anglers dress accordingly. There are striped bass to be caught here in the shadow of the Golden Gate Bridge, but for most the catch is of the smaller variety—bottom fish or herring. There are crabs, too, and all in all enough action to entice a businessman (upper right) to attempt a few fast casts during his lunch-hour break.
It is much the same scene farther north along the Seattle waterfront, except on Pier 67, where in the comfort of his room in the Edgewater Inn a traveling man like Daniel Huffman can make his calls and lose little time between bites. When he is in Seattle, Huffman always reserves the same room, and always gets his fish. He deposits his catch in the bathtub.