April 11, 2025 • 5 mins
Explore the rise, golden era, and trials of Bay Port, Michigan’s Gillingham Fish Company – once the world’s largest freshwater fishery – in this documentary-style narrative.
Discover how this Saginaw Bay fishing empire expanded to Charity Island, endured a devastating fire and economic decline, and lives on today through the Bay Port Fish Company.
We also examine modern threats to this 140-year fishing legacy, from climate change to proposed conservation laws. Read the full story at R. L. Gillingham Fish Company - Surprising Insights of Commerical Fishing at Bay Port 1896-1978
Discover how this Saginaw Bay fishing empire expanded to Charity Island, endured a devastating fire and economic decline, and lives on today through the Bay Port Fish Company.
We also examine modern threats to this 140-year fishing legacy, from climate change to proposed conservation laws. Read the full story at R. L. Gillingham Fish Company - Surprising Insights of Commerical Fishing at Bay Port 1896-1978
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:00):
On the quiet shores of Saginaw Bay, where goals cry in the wind carries the scent of water and wood smoke,
(00:07):
the village of Bayport once thrived on Fish and Grit. In the late 1800s,
a family named Gillingham cast their fortunes into these waters and built a business that would feed cities
and anchor a community. This is the story of how one company helped shape Michigan's thumb,
weathered fire and hardship, and now stands at the edge of uncertainty. Welcome to End of the Road in
Michigan, where we bring you stories from the edges of the Great Lakes State. Today, we journey
(00:31):
back to the late 19th century, to the shores of Saginaw Bay, where a small fishing enterprise
grew into a powerhouse of the Great Lakes commercial fishing industry. This is the tale of the Gillingham
Fish Company, a tale of ambition, adversity, and the enduring spirit of Michigan's thumb region.
It was the summer of 1886 when the Gillingham family first cast their nets in the waters off Bayport.
(00:52):
The railroad had just arrived, linking this remote Saginaw Bay village with markets of far
dot sensing opportunity. Charles Gillingham moved his operation from nearby North Island onto a man-made
peninsula jutting into the Bay. An ideal spot to process the day's catch and loaded onto ice-filled
rail cars, the RL Gillingham Fish Company, established that year, would soon play a key role in Bayport's
(01:14):
development as a major commercial fishing port. In 1895, local investors founded the Bayport Fish
Company nearby. Together, these enterprises quickly transformed Bayport into a booming commercial
fishing hub on Saginaw Bay. By the early 20th century, Bayport's docks bustled with activity.
Crews hauled in nets of perch, walleye, and whitefish, the bounty of Saginaw Bay, packed in salt or
(01:37):
on ice. The catch was loaded onto rail cars bound for distant cities. By the 1920s and 30s,
Bayport was renowned as the largest freshwater fishing port in the world, with over 30 fishing boats
working its harbor. The Gillingham fleet alone numbered more than 20 vessels at its peak done.
From this Michigan community, Great Lakes Fish made their way to restaurants in New York and Chicago,
(01:58):
while salted fish and wooden barrels journeyed as far as the mining camps of Appalachia. The company
even expanded operations to the remote charity islands, building seasonal camps where crews salted
the catch before sending it by boat back to Bayport. The town's fishery was feeding people near and
far, and in turn, fueling the local economy. No boom lasts forever. By the 1940s, fish populations
(02:19):
were dwindling, and economic tides had turned, testing the resilience of those living from the bay.
Then, in January 1945, disaster struck. A fire roared through Bayport's waterfront,
destroying most of both Gillingham's operation and the Bayport Fish Company's buildings. In one
terrible night, decades of hard work went up in flames. The Bayport Fish Company shut its doors in
(02:40):
the aftermath. The proud Gillingham fleet was suddenly without a home port. The great fishing empire
of Bayport had been dealt a mortal blow, but this tale was not over yet. We'll be right back to our
story after this message. Otto Schmidt, president of the Gillingham Company,
salvaged what he could from the ashes and managed to resume operations on a modest scale,
reorganizing the business in 1949. In 1965, Schmidt sold the rebuilt enterprise to Henry Engelhard
(03:06):
and partner Mel Dutcher, ushering in a new era. Engelhard carried the legacy forward and even sparked
a local tradition. Frying up fish sandwiches to help pay his daughter's college tuition,
a humble idea that evolved by 1978 into the annual Bayport Fish Sandwich festival still celebrated
each August. That same year, Engelhard sold the fish company to the Williams family, who have now
(03:27):
run the Bayport Fish Company for over 40 years. They kept the business a live-year round,
supplying fresh fish to the community and welcoming visitors to the docks. Through economic ups and
downs, this family run operation, carrying on the Gillingham legacy, has endured. Today, the weathered
docks and a handful of old buildings in the Bayport historic commercial fishing district stand as
reminders of the past. The legacy of the Gillingham Fish Company lives on through the Williams family's
(03:52):
Bayport Fish Company and the community traditions it upholds. But the future of the Saginaw Bay heritage is
uncertain. Climate change is warming the Great Lakes, altering fish habitats, and making seasons
less predictable. Meanwhile, Michigan's commercial fishing industry has dwindled to a fraction of what
it once was. As of 2024, only 13 state licensed commercial fishing operations remain in the entire
(04:15):
state, down from 319 69, and five cast their nets in Saginaw Bay today. Now, a new threat looms.
In March 2025, state lawmakers introduced House Bill 4,212, a proposal to ban commercial
fishing in Saginaw Bay by 2027. Supporters claimed the bill modernizes the law to prioritize
conservation. But to Bayport's long-time fishing families, it feels like a final reckoning.
(04:40):
This bill will put commercial fishermen completely out of business, warns Lake On Williams,
current owner of the Bayport Fish Company, adding that they had no input on the bill.
It's a business killer. After surviving fires, economic collapse, and environmental change,
Michigan's oldest commercial fishery now faces perhaps its greatest challenge,
the possibility that new laws could finally force its nets out of the water.
(05:01):
Bayport's people have proven resilient, but whether their way of life can weather the next storm
remains to be seen. For now, the legacy of the Gillingham Fish Company endures,
preserved in the historic fishing district and in the annual rituals that celebrate a proud
Saginaw Bay heritage. Thank you for joining us on End of the Road in Michigan. If you enjoyed this
episode, please subscribe and leave a review. For more stories from Michigan's thumb region,
(05:24):
visit our website. Until next time, I remind you that every road has a story.
On the quiet shores of Saginaw Bay, where goals cry in the wind carries the scent of water and wood smoke,
(00:07):
the village of Bayport once thrived on Fish and Grit. In the late 1800s,
a family named Gillingham cast their fortunes into these waters and built a business that would feed cities
and anchor a community. This is the story of how one company helped shape Michigan's thumb,
weathered fire and hardship, and now stands at the edge of uncertainty. Welcome to End of the Road in
Michigan, where we bring you stories from the edges of the Great Lakes State. Today, we journey
(00:31):
back to the late 19th century, to the shores of Saginaw Bay, where a small fishing enterprise
grew into a powerhouse of the Great Lakes commercial fishing industry. This is the tale of the Gillingham
Fish Company, a tale of ambition, adversity, and the enduring spirit of Michigan's thumb region.
It was the summer of 1886 when the Gillingham family first cast their nets in the waters off Bayport.
(00:52):
The railroad had just arrived, linking this remote Saginaw Bay village with markets of far
dot sensing opportunity. Charles Gillingham moved his operation from nearby North Island onto a man-made
peninsula jutting into the Bay. An ideal spot to process the day's catch and loaded onto ice-filled
rail cars, the RL Gillingham Fish Company, established that year, would soon play a key role in Bayport's
(01:14):
development as a major commercial fishing port. In 1895, local investors founded the Bayport Fish
Company nearby. Together, these enterprises quickly transformed Bayport into a booming commercial
fishing hub on Saginaw Bay. By the early 20th century, Bayport's docks bustled with activity.
Crews hauled in nets of perch, walleye, and whitefish, the bounty of Saginaw Bay, packed in salt or
(01:37):
on ice. The catch was loaded onto rail cars bound for distant cities. By the 1920s and 30s,
Bayport was renowned as the largest freshwater fishing port in the world, with over 30 fishing boats
working its harbor. The Gillingham fleet alone numbered more than 20 vessels at its peak done.
From this Michigan community, Great Lakes Fish made their way to restaurants in New York and Chicago,
(01:58):
while salted fish and wooden barrels journeyed as far as the mining camps of Appalachia. The company
even expanded operations to the remote charity islands, building seasonal camps where crews salted
the catch before sending it by boat back to Bayport. The town's fishery was feeding people near and
far, and in turn, fueling the local economy. No boom lasts forever. By the 1940s, fish populations
(02:19):
were dwindling, and economic tides had turned, testing the resilience of those living from the bay.
Then, in January 1945, disaster struck. A fire roared through Bayport's waterfront,
destroying most of both Gillingham's operation and the Bayport Fish Company's buildings. In one
terrible night, decades of hard work went up in flames. The Bayport Fish Company shut its doors in
(02:40):
the aftermath. The proud Gillingham fleet was suddenly without a home port. The great fishing empire
of Bayport had been dealt a mortal blow, but this tale was not over yet. We'll be right back to our
story after this message. Otto Schmidt, president of the Gillingham Company,
salvaged what he could from the ashes and managed to resume operations on a modest scale,
reorganizing the business in 1949. In 1965, Schmidt sold the rebuilt enterprise to Henry Engelhard
(03:06):
and partner Mel Dutcher, ushering in a new era. Engelhard carried the legacy forward and even sparked
a local tradition. Frying up fish sandwiches to help pay his daughter's college tuition,
a humble idea that evolved by 1978 into the annual Bayport Fish Sandwich festival still celebrated
each August. That same year, Engelhard sold the fish company to the Williams family, who have now
(03:27):
run the Bayport Fish Company for over 40 years. They kept the business a live-year round,
supplying fresh fish to the community and welcoming visitors to the docks. Through economic ups and
downs, this family run operation, carrying on the Gillingham legacy, has endured. Today, the weathered
docks and a handful of old buildings in the Bayport historic commercial fishing district stand as
reminders of the past. The legacy of the Gillingham Fish Company lives on through the Williams family's
(03:52):
Bayport Fish Company and the community traditions it upholds. But the future of the Saginaw Bay heritage is
uncertain. Climate change is warming the Great Lakes, altering fish habitats, and making seasons
less predictable. Meanwhile, Michigan's commercial fishing industry has dwindled to a fraction of what
it once was. As of 2024, only 13 state licensed commercial fishing operations remain in the entire
(04:15):
state, down from 319 69, and five cast their nets in Saginaw Bay today. Now, a new threat looms.
In March 2025, state lawmakers introduced House Bill 4,212, a proposal to ban commercial
fishing in Saginaw Bay by 2027. Supporters claimed the bill modernizes the law to prioritize
conservation. But to Bayport's long-time fishing families, it feels like a final reckoning.
(04:40):
This bill will put commercial fishermen completely out of business, warns Lake On Williams,
current owner of the Bayport Fish Company, adding that they had no input on the bill.
It's a business killer. After surviving fires, economic collapse, and environmental change,
Michigan's oldest commercial fishery now faces perhaps its greatest challenge,
the possibility that new laws could finally force its nets out of the water.
(05:01):
Bayport's people have proven resilient, but whether their way of life can weather the next storm
remains to be seen. For now, the legacy of the Gillingham Fish Company endures,
preserved in the historic fishing district and in the annual rituals that celebrate a proud
Saginaw Bay heritage. Thank you for joining us on End of the Road in Michigan. If you enjoyed this
episode, please subscribe and leave a review. For more stories from Michigan's thumb region,
(05:24):
visit our website. Until next time, I remind you that every road has a story.
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