Pictured: a young Danny Ward shows off two American shad caught in 1972
By: Danny Ward – a longtime employee and familiar face at Fletcher’s Cove
Many things about Washington are transient. Politicians and lobbyists come and go. Military families get posted here, then move on, often after just settling in. Whole neighborhoods change seemingly overnight. But if you want to come visit a place where the winds of change gently blow with the seasons, then find your way to Fletcher’s Cove.
Fletcher’s has always been my other home, my spiritual center. A Washington institution to be sure. But a quiet one, tucked away above the city between the rich waters of the Potomac and the C&O Canal. More than a place, Fletcher’s for generations has been home to a colorful collection of characters, people of all persuasions who would cross paths on the bottom land of egalitarianism. Old man Julius Fletcher once shook his head as he chuckled and said to me “they all come to the river”.
My time around the boathouse started in 1969. I was a seventh grader, who with school mate Mark Binsted, had the urge to fish. We would walk the muddy banks, catch a few perch and sometimes wind up in the company of the Fletcher’s as well as an assortment of fascinating river-rats who hung out around the shop.
There came a day when I was asked to “watch the bike shed” on a busy weekend in exchange for a few precious dollars in cash. That was the germination of a desire to spend my days there. I could fish, hang with the regulars, and make money! Shortly thereafter I was trusted to enter the sanctuary of the store and I truly felt a sense of belonging. Happy times! Next came using the boats (for free!) and searching for the white shad that, for Mark Binsted and me, was our “white whale”.
Falling in love, college far away and marriage did not diminish my desire to be by the river. So, arrangements were made which allowed me to make a “career” out of employment at Fletcher’s. An understanding wife also made it possible. Spouse crawling into bed at 2 a.m. smelling of herring and Salem cigarettes is likely not a woman’s idea of marital bliss.
The Fletcher Family, Julius, Joe and Ray were always good to me. The National Park Service maintenance guys and the Park Police were like friends as well as fellow stewards of the park. Many years passed with many special memories and characters to recall. I’ve done tv spots, fished alongside famous personalities and politicians, administered first aid to a queen, chatted with two jogging presidents, and served a cold lemonade to a third. But for all the out of the ordinary moments there have been, it’s the everyday flow of interesting and colorful people, who like the inexorable flow of the river itself, never fail to amaze and amuse.
After 2004 there were no more Fletchers to run their namesake boathouse. But good fortune and good sense prevailed, and the Park Service transferred management to a company which was given the charge and the resources to maintain the historic services and nature of Fletcher’s Boat House.
As is said, “the only constant in life is change”. So the future of the boathouse is an open book. I’m aware that people often think it odd that I spent a lifetime working in one job in one place. But for me, I never wanted to pull the roots from under my feet. That precious ground was too fertile.