I had not seen this posted here... read it on the refuge:
Artisan gone, legacy lives on in Tuckerton
By ERIC SCOTT CAMPBELL Staff Writer, 609-272-7227
Published: Monday, February 09, 2009
TUCKERTON - It wasn't one of Gus's, the boat Ronnie Spodofora restored over the weekend.
That's something Spodofora and everyone else will have to get used to at the Tuckerton Seaport. Gus Heinrichs, a longtime artisan of small duck-hunting vessels known as sneakboxes, died Jan. 27.
Heinrichs, 77, was among a dwindling field of folks who built the wooden boats from scratch, competing with fiberglass boats built from molds.
"His technique was probably the best I have ever seen because everything had to be perfect," said Spodofora, who spent 500 volunteer hours watching the man work last year. "His boat just seems to be the most sturdy, the most seaworthy that I've seen.
"I've owned a couple of sneakboxes; I've never been lucky enough to own one of Gus's," which could sell for as much as $7,000, Spodofora added.
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Heinrichs, a former house builder, began building sneakboxes in the early 1980s, adhering strictly to patterns passed down through three generations. There was little margin for error and plenty of subtle, proprietary touches. There was time each year to build two or three, at most.
Beverly Heinrichs said she plans to follow her husband's wishes and destroy the blueprints. The couple never had children.
"He was very particular with his boat. It was his father's boat," said friend and fellow boat-builder Bob Fricke, who studied under Heinrichs' uncle. "To carry on that tradition, he didn't want to make the boat worse. If anything, he wanted to make it better."
Fricke built a round-bottomed boat more suitable for sailing and rowing, he said, while Heinrichs' flat-bottomed model, a rarity, benefits more from an outboard motor.
"It doesn't cut through the water, it glides across," Spodofora said.
The boats were exclusively Atlantic white cedar, 4 feet wide and 12 feet long, shaped like a spoon without a handle. The 155-pound Spodofora could move one through as little as 3 inches of water, he said.
"You're able to sneak up on the ducks," hence the name, Spodofora said.
Heinrichs' blueprints apparently won't be around, but his apprentices, official and unofficial, will be. One of his last cohorts was great-nephew Jeffrey Kopec, 15. Friends and family say the partnership invigorated both.
The single-person sneakboxes are still popular with hunters, Fricke said, "but not as popular as back in the 50s and 60s." These days, more people team up, in boats that hold as many as six.
Still, seaport workers will soon start churning out more sneakboxes. Spodofora wishes the blueprints were around to help perpetuate Heinrichs' legacy, but he understands the sentiment to keep them in the family.
"We'll build something different. It won't belong to an individual, it'll belong to the Tuckerton Seaport," Spodofora said. "The sneakbox is a prized possession, just like a dog or a good shotgun used to be."
Artisan gone, legacy lives on in Tuckerton
By ERIC SCOTT CAMPBELL Staff Writer, 609-272-7227
Published: Monday, February 09, 2009
TUCKERTON - It wasn't one of Gus's, the boat Ronnie Spodofora restored over the weekend.
That's something Spodofora and everyone else will have to get used to at the Tuckerton Seaport. Gus Heinrichs, a longtime artisan of small duck-hunting vessels known as sneakboxes, died Jan. 27.
Heinrichs, 77, was among a dwindling field of folks who built the wooden boats from scratch, competing with fiberglass boats built from molds.
"His technique was probably the best I have ever seen because everything had to be perfect," said Spodofora, who spent 500 volunteer hours watching the man work last year. "His boat just seems to be the most sturdy, the most seaworthy that I've seen.
"I've owned a couple of sneakboxes; I've never been lucky enough to own one of Gus's," which could sell for as much as $7,000, Spodofora added.
Click here to find out more!
Heinrichs, a former house builder, began building sneakboxes in the early 1980s, adhering strictly to patterns passed down through three generations. There was little margin for error and plenty of subtle, proprietary touches. There was time each year to build two or three, at most.
Beverly Heinrichs said she plans to follow her husband's wishes and destroy the blueprints. The couple never had children.
"He was very particular with his boat. It was his father's boat," said friend and fellow boat-builder Bob Fricke, who studied under Heinrichs' uncle. "To carry on that tradition, he didn't want to make the boat worse. If anything, he wanted to make it better."
Fricke built a round-bottomed boat more suitable for sailing and rowing, he said, while Heinrichs' flat-bottomed model, a rarity, benefits more from an outboard motor.
"It doesn't cut through the water, it glides across," Spodofora said.
The boats were exclusively Atlantic white cedar, 4 feet wide and 12 feet long, shaped like a spoon without a handle. The 155-pound Spodofora could move one through as little as 3 inches of water, he said.
"You're able to sneak up on the ducks," hence the name, Spodofora said.
Heinrichs' blueprints apparently won't be around, but his apprentices, official and unofficial, will be. One of his last cohorts was great-nephew Jeffrey Kopec, 15. Friends and family say the partnership invigorated both.
The single-person sneakboxes are still popular with hunters, Fricke said, "but not as popular as back in the 50s and 60s." These days, more people team up, in boats that hold as many as six.
Still, seaport workers will soon start churning out more sneakboxes. Spodofora wishes the blueprints were around to help perpetuate Heinrichs' legacy, but he understands the sentiment to keep them in the family.
"We'll build something different. It won't belong to an individual, it'll belong to the Tuckerton Seaport," Spodofora said. "The sneakbox is a prized possession, just like a dog or a good shotgun used to be."
