Most of my early orders from Fred Claghorn at Versitex arrived by CompuServe mail or fax, so when he rang my mobile one afternoon I knew it was something bigger. He had a new contact for me: Ron Rigger, owner of R3 Baits in northern Minnesota. Ron said there was a huge gap in the U.S. market for jig heads — lead-cast hooks dressed with a bit of feather or calf hair — and that South Africa’s labour costs made us the perfect supplier now that his Haitian operation was falling apart after the unrest and earthquakes.
Fred vouched for him. That was enough for me. I agreed to fly Ron out, pay him a consultancy fee, and buy the three spin-casting machines he specified from Italy. The bill was frightening, but the promise of “unlimited demand” made it feel like a risk worth taking.
Ron eventually landed in Johannesburg. Fascinating guy — former U.S. submarine captain from the Cold War who’d reinvented himself in fishing lures. I flew him to Lydenburg, put him up at Nooitgedacht Lodge, and we spent a week commissioning the new machines. He placed his first order before he left. From then on it was all hands to the pump at Fishy Pete’s: spin-casting lead “Lightning Bugs,” painting them with luminous coating, then tying the feathers. Tens of thousands went out the door.
Looking back, the health-and-safety side makes me cringe. Molten lead everywhere, no proper extraction, and I hardly knew what a respirator was. Ron, meanwhile, turned out to be tighter than a cork in a wine bottle. He marvelled that Nooitgedacht returned his laundry pressed and folded, yet never tipped the staff a cent.
The numbers soon told their own story. We had plenty of turnover but almost no margin — my spreadsheets bled red. Then Ron dangled a carrot: Rapala, a giant in the tackle world, wanted a trial batch of tied trebles. He sent hooks and materials by FedEx; we cranked out ten thousand in record time at six cents apiece. He was thrilled. I wasn’t. After paying the tiers a living wage there was nothing left for Fishy Pete’s.
I finally called a halt. Told Ron we’d be at the Denver Tackle Show in September and would talk then, but not to send another order till we’d sorted the pricing. He faxed back, baffled: the operation in Haiti had managed on far less. That was the point — they’d been paying sweat-shop rates, and I wasn’t prepared to do the same.
It was an exciting time, and Niels helped with packaging and logistics, but the whole episode was a lesson in just how naïve I still was. Fred wasn’t to blame — he thought cutting out the middleman would help both sides. Ron, though, was my first real encounter with someone who negotiated in bad faith. What happened next with him is a story for another chapter, and it doesn’t end well for Ron.