Sep 15

Improvements in technology have changed every profession at some point in time and have helped jobs get done more efficiently. They have also made places more accessible, which is very useful for lobstermen.  The technological improvements on lobster boats have compressed our conceptualization of distance. For example, in the early 18th century, the first lobster boat,”The Dory,” was a very small boat powered by sail and oar that  couldn’t hold more than a couple traps. As time passed and technology improved, lobster boats got bigger and faster. This allowed the lobstermen to have access to places further away and in more difficult conditions (Acheson, 84).

Although boats had since improved, accessibility to lobster outside of New England in the late 18th century was limited until the “lobster smack” was invented – a boat that allowed live lobsters to be transported all over the east coast. This market expansion inflated the demand for lobster and caused the creation of lobster canning companies (Acheson, 4). The canning companies preserving lobster meat allowed the the westward expansion of lobster. Before the lobster smack and canning companies, lobster leaving the New England area would have been unfathomable for the lobstermen.

Today, the technology on boats is so advanced that advancements such as motors, hydraulic haulers, radios, radars, and depth finders have allowed lobstermen to catch more than 20 million pounds of lobster in a year (Acheson 85). Technology constantly improving and changing affects our concept of distance and place. Transportation being made more accessible and modified over time has completely modified everyday life and is the reason why lobstermen are still present in today’s society. I am interested to see where the future technological improvements on transportation will take our current society.

I loved Acheson’s description of lobstermen as “rugged individualists…willing to defend his independence with violence if necessary” (2).  This seemed to set lobstermen apart from other fishermen, making it understandable that their”clusters” are commonly referred to as “gangs.”  However, Acheson cites the distinctive feature of lobster gangs as their territorality–claiming and defending fishing areas along the Maine coast.  This reminded me of our conversations about the social constructivism of place.  Lobstermen are essentially redifining place by staking claim to different areas of the sea.  Over generations, lobster families have continued to lobster in the same areas of the harbor while defending their territory from new lobstermen or others attempts to expands.  What truly amazed me about this is the fact that to most people (main-landers) the harbor just looks like a chaotic free for all of fishing mayhem where anything goes, while the lobstermen see a completely different place.  Lobstermen must see the different lobster pots as property lines between them and their neighbors the same way a fence defines the line between two farmers.  The difference between these examples is that a common person could probably tell you where one farmer’s crop starts and another ends, but at the same time would struggle to draw property lines along the Maine coast simply based on the lobster pots.  Demonstrating that not only is the territorality of lobstermen a social construct of place, but one that only the people familiar with the sea and in the lobstering community can understand.  In a way this makes the territories only a space to main-landers who don’t understand the nuances of the lobstering communities, and maybe even just a landscape to some whose understanding of the sea is limited to the visualization of ocean on the horizon.  While to the lobstermen who wake up early and head out to sea to make their rounds just as their family has been doing for generations, the harbor is a place of work, history, and family.

As James Acheson describes in The Lobster Gangs of Maine, lobster fishing, to the layman, presents itself as, “nothing but the dull, interrupted routine of pulling the same traps day after day.” (Acheson, 21) The average person gives no thought to the intricacies that go into lobstering, such as the importance of considering the bottom structure in the context of lobster habitats, or the significance of the boat to its captain as more than just a means of getting to and from his lobster gear. A lobsterman looks at his boat as his livelihood. It is a symbol of the lifestyle and the beauty of the daily routine that the lobsterman partakes in, as well as the vast connections to other lobstermen partaking in the same everyday grind. Relating this to the class’ discussion on place versus space, the lobster boat, to the lobsterman, is a place, where as to anyone outside the industry, it is a space. The average person can not comprehend the significance of the boat to the lobsterman. Society’s misunderstanding of the true message of the lobster boat, is in my opinion, partially due to the increase in tourism in the area, which has created a glorification of the lobster boat. The lobster boats moored in the harbors have become an attraction, due to their beauty and classic Maine landscape appeal. This gap between the place that is a lobsterman’s boat, and the space that is a regular person’s perception of one, is expanding as tourism has increased, while lobster fishing has stayed fairly consistent. If one goes to see Maine lobster boats, they should engage in at least understanding what is involved in the business and culture. There is so much more to a Maine lobster boat than its appearance.

Our readings of James Acheson’s Cycles describes a typical year as a lobster fisherman, and all the highs and lows that go along with it. Each fisherman has a general outline of space that is his or hers in the water, and throughout the course of a year, this space changes, affecting their lives and how they go about their daily work. Weather is the obvious and overarching factor that causes change. The days that fishermen actually go out and fish is drastically lower during the winter months. Connected to the weather and seasons is the behavior of the lobsters themselves, who typically shed their shells during the mid summer and go into hiding, causing production to go down. A third factor that influences the fishermen’s lives, which is a bit more intangible, yet just as significant, is the consumption and price of lobster.

This reading made me think about the idea proposed by Cresswell in The Geneology of Place, which said that place is not a motionless thing in time, but something that is constantly changing and evolving. To the lobster fishermen off the coast of Maine, the area that they set their traps and fish everyday is not a space, but a place. They know the intricacies of the water and the ocean floor below, allowing them to place their traps in the ideal locations. This place of theirs not only changes on a linear scale, over long periods of time, but it also changes on a cyclical scale with the seasons. Their lives are reliant on the deep understanding of their individual place and the way it changes over the course of a year. On top of that, they must have an understanding of the demand for lobster around them, fueled by tourism and supply. To a normal person, one stretch of Mid-Maine coast is just a space, which looks the exact same as another, yet for a lobster fisherman, it is his or her place. That stretch of sea and its change over the course of a year is that fisherman’s job and life.

In class the other day, Ben urged us away from thinking about place by the terms of a phenomenologist. The key word there was “essence”. However, I think there is something important behind this infinitely complex word. In my American Studies Theory seminar last year, we studied Karl Marx’s critique of capitalism, in which he also uses the term essence. In his ideal society, a person’s career, or their output/production in the world, should be their entire livelihood. In other words, it is one’s essence, or what makes that person who they are. Presuming there is a diverse spectrum of jobs within this ideal society, then everyone can lead a passionate and fulfilling life, with a true “essence” of being. While Marx’s argument/vision is undoubtedly full of holes and does not exist today, there is a reason it is still being studied to this day. His vision holds a certain level of value, and after reading Acheson, a life of lobstering seemed to fit into what Marx was trying to get at.

“After arriving home, most fishermen do an errand or two connected with their fishing business. Following supper they might call friends to swap information on prices, catches, and the weather, and finally, before going to sleep, turn on the radio for news of wind and weather” (Acheson 22). The passion of a lobsterman’s workday extends into their home life. There is no divide between work and play. This is a myth within the world of lobstermen. While their success is undoubtedly tied to economic markets, the Maine lobster fisherman is not tied to “the office clock, governmental bureaucracy, or society’s expectations” (2). Instead, the life of a lobsterman is tied to the land itself. To the sea. To the coast. To the environment. A lobsterman fulfills this idea of authenticity tied to place that we were trying to get at in class. Certain careers under the scope of capitalism may be affected by place, and exist in places as we understand them, but they are not dependent on the space, or the land itself. Lobstermen are tied directly to the land and the weather. Their specific jobs shift according to seasons, weather, and the changing of the environment. Their essence is derived from the physical space, making their relationship to it pure. Lobstermen epitomize authenticity in the scope of place.