By Martin Stec, a Presque Isle Electric & Gas Cooperative member
These days, the sound of Mullet Lake on a summer afternoon is the growl of an outboard motor or the drone of a jet ski. But it was not always this way. The sound I remember from my childhood on Mullet Lake is the sleepy, rhythmic creak and splash of wooden oars at sunset.
It was the summer of 1947, and I was 6 years old. The creaking oars belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Schrek of Parrot’s Point, a kind elderly couple who hosted me for a season on the east side of Mullet Lake. In the evenings, Mr. Schrek would ready his rowboat, and Mrs. Schrek, her oversized sun bonnet a dash of color against the sky, would climb in, ready for the sunset fishing trip.
As the dusk deepened, home they would return, Mrs. Schrek’s bonnet hid her face, and he patiently pulled the oars. Waiting by the shore, the strained croak of oar against oarlock was the only sound other than the gentle lapping of waves at the shore.
As night fell, I would lie in bed and listen to the low rumble of Mr. Schrek’s rocking chair against the old floorboards. Next to him was the brass spittoon, and occasionally a ping sounded from within, courtesy of Mr. Schrek’s chewing tobacco. The kerosene lamp flickered, and to these sights and sounds, I drifted to sleep.
Morning would arrive, and the lake glimmered in buttery August light. The sound of a stainless steel can opener popping the seal on a can of sweet PET milk signaled that breakfast had arrived. In this way, dreamy summer days passed until the arrival of fall.
School days at the one-room Koehler Township schoolhouse on Hackleberg Road had a unique soundtrack. I remember working on arithmetic at my desk while listening to the iron clang and squeal of the water pump. Under the watchful eye of our teacher, Mrs. Hackleberg, my classmates and I would take turns filling the class water pail and hauling it to the tank that supplied our faucet.
Oct. 31 had a sound all its own. On that magical night, when the wind smacked gray waves to the shore, and the leaves rustled, I would rub rosin on a string, preparing to surprise our neighbors, who would gamely pull their shades and wait for their prank. Outside their window, I ran my fingers along the rosined string, creating an unearthly howl. From inside, the mock terrified shout of “Halloweeners!” could be heard. Moments later, they opened the door to distribute treats to the “monster” waiting outside.
More than 70 years have passed since those days, and now, along with the sound of motorboats and the pop of fireworks, I hear my grandchildren splashing and playing in Mullet Lake. I appreciate these sounds, but some evenings I wish I could, once again, fall asleep to the sounds of an earlier time and hear that old rowboat come home once again.
About the Author: Martin is a former Wayne County Deputy Sheriff, retired after 33 years of service. He enjoys fishing and swimming on Mullet Lake. His family has been a customer of PIE&G since electricity came to Parrot’s Point on Mullet Lake.
