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boats, catching hundreds of large fish. The smaller ones escaped through the holes in the nets. They kept the fish alive in vats of water overnight, then early Sunday they were dressed by the mem- bers of the Lorna Community Club, and the men fried them. The women brought the rest of the picnic dinner and soft drinks. It was hard work but we had a day of fun until the office seekers from all over the state started to swarm over the place. Republicans swore, Democrats cussed, and the Lorna community decided it was not worthwhile. No more fish fries!" Herbert Snyder (Grand Junction, Colo.) recalled two community fish fries held in Grand Junction along the banks of the Colorado River in the mid-1920s. The events each drew between 50 and 100 people. "Every once in a while they'd have those community meetings you know or gathering ... fish fry they'd call them," Snyder said. "Oh I guess that would happen about twice a year. "The one that I remembered particularly was down there at the Main Street bridge ... Old Main Street that used to cross the river there. Off to the right there was nothing in there like there is now. It was open and you could camp right in there and cook and party. "They had a seine if I recall it was about 30 feet long and I couldn't tell you how deep it was, but it was deep enough to get out in the river. And then they had this boat, it was a wooden boat that belonged to the neighbor that lived up the road here from us. And they took that seine with that boat and he'd get in there with his oars and go out across the river and spread that seine out and then pull it in and those that were helping would get a hold of and help pull the seine in and then you gathered the fish right there on the bank." According to Snyder, the group would fry the fish in pans over open fires. Max and Dale Stewart (Vernal, Utah) remembered fish fries held between 1934 and 1939 along the Green River, near Jensen, Utah, in which a seine would be used to catch the fish. "There were five or six families there so it would be a sizeable pack," Max said. "And the guys seined enough fish so that there was an abundance, and there was some left over that they could take home. They didn't have any way of keeping them, so they took them home and cooked them." Dale remembered setting the seine, which was approximately 50 feet long, 4 feet deep and equipped with floaters and sinkers: "My uncle, Jerry Hatch, and his son, Bill, and myself would, and of course, a lot of the local people, would go help. Bill and I would swim the rope across the channel or something, then pull the seine in. It was our job to just get it around. In fact, on a couple of our hoists one time, the gardener rolled horses down the river to scare the fish into the seine, and they really pulled a bunch of fish out. I don't remember the poundage or how many, but I think they had a whitefish that time about 25 pounds. "That time I don't think we had the cookout, I think the fish would just be divided. One that I recall, that Max has probably already told you about, we went up across from Joe Hassel's place and seined there, and had that big cook- out which lasted the better part of the day around noon until evening anyway." Kenneth Bailey (Hayden, Colo.), who homesteaded in Lily Park from 1932 Uses of endangered fish 17