"Personal and Social," Valley Record, Ashland, September 1, 1892, page 3

Married--Riddle-Isaacs.

    The scaled tigers of Rogue River. Few devotees of the rod and reel who have not heard of the battling rainbow of the Rogue River in Oregon. The guest of George Putnam and "Toggery Bill" Isaacs of Medford, Oregon, opportunity was accorded me of seeing those experts in fishing action in their home waters. The Rogue comes rushing, tumbling and boiling down from melting snows at the crest of Mt. McLoughlin of the Cascade Range. Natives claim the source of supply comes from Crater Lake, a mammoth lake in the clouds over a mile above sea level in the heart of Mount Mazama, an extinct volcano. The ice-cold waters of the Rogue, with difficult currents, dangerous rapids and deep holes, prove a most seductive feeding ground for trout. Possessed with super power, fighting strength, every fish hooked becomes at once a fighting tiger, never growing weary or conceding the waning of his dynamic strength until the landing net has taken him to the mat or administered the count.
    A run over Eagle Point Road, a distance of 12 miles, landed us at Big Rock Lodge. Equipped with a 7½-ounce rod, 225 feet of tapered line, 7-foot leader and a Royal Coachman attached, we approached the turbulent waters of the river at Upper High Banks. Our objective was a deep pool at the foot of the rapids. We whipped across current, landing near large boulders or over crevasses in bedrock, getting an occasional strike from a lurking steelhead or deep-sea-growing trout. "Toggery Bill" attached himself to a simmering rainbow; his strike came at the head of a riffle, where slippery rocks in the bed of the stream made uncertain footing, made more dangerous by the mad rushes made by the trout, who vaulted in mid-air, shot the rapids, split the water, sulked at the bottom, the reel in the interim screaming in agony as the scaled beauty dashed with and across currents. Bill was carried off his feet, but came up smiling. Never have seen such vigorous, persistent and continuous fighting put up by a ten-pound, two-ounce fish. Bill led him into a narrow channel, parking him between two rocks. The capture of a finny prize by the light tackle route.
Burlington Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, November 30, 1919, page 12

VAWTER AND BILL ISAACS 'ALMOST' FOUND BRUMFIELD

BILL ISAACS IS PRIZE FISHERMAN

CATTY JOKE FOR MRS. F. ISAACS

DICKY ISAACS IS WINNING LAURELS

    Mr. William Isaacs of Medford, Oregon, dealer in men's toggery, has a lodge on the Rogue River and Mr. Isaacs, like any good summer resort resident, thinks he has the finest place and the best fishing anywhere.
    When Herbert Hoover--having wired ahead that he hoped his vacation would be respected and no ceremony arranged--crossed the city limits he was met by Mr. Isaacs and commanded to "jump into my car." Supposing his host to be someone escorting him to the hotel, Mr. Hoover complied and was whisked, to his considerable surprise, out to Mr. Isaacs' lodge. The rest of the vacation party followed. There was nothing else to do. And besides, Mr. Hoover had started to grin at the humor of the situation.
    Here he was, kidnapped and "put up" by a genial summer lodge owner who told him to get out in the river and catch fish. All right, Mr. Hoover would be glad to oblige. Anybody likes to catch fish. If Mr. Isaacs' river had the biting kind, Mr. Hoover wouldn't begrudge him the advertising.
    An hour, two hours went by on the swift Rogue, supposedly crowded with steelhead trout. The anxious Mr. Isaacs saw his distinguished guests angle with growing disgust. Not a nibble, not a bite, not a single battle. Finally he saw them pack up their tackle and walk out on him, with the comment that his Rogue River was rightly named--"just a rogue so far as us real fishermen are concerned. The pears around here are all right, but the steelheads are--well, the less said the better."
    When you kidnap fishermen, whether high or lowly, and whether by the peremptory Isaacs method or by the glowing circulars, you want to be sure you have the fish. Otherwise, as happened in this case, all you get is disgruntled guests and bad advertising. Many a Michigan resort proprietor, kicking at the idea of a shorter season to preserve his bass, might take a lesson from the experience of Medford's toggery merchant.
Daily Globe, Ironwood, Michigan, August 7, 1928, page 3

    "Toggery Bill" Isaacs started into business when he was 21 years old in 1903 with most of the town's "wise heads" predicting that he would go bankrupt in sixty days. He invested his small capital in fixtures and gave only a pleasant smile and his reputation as security for his merchandise. That was when good all-wool suits sold for $12.50, hats from $1.50 to $3.00 and neckties were high at 50¢. Toggery Bill says he has worked for 25¢ a day and board. Much of the clothing of those days was made by manufacturers who didn't give their employees a living wage.
    The well-dressed man 27 years ago was attired in a very long, loose, sacky coat with heavily defined stitching and plain trousers.
    Although "Toggery Bill" has probably spent more time for recreation than any other business man in the valley and is one of the expert fishermen of the Rogue River, his business has grown so that he now employs several people instead of the young high school boy with whom he started.
    Mr. Isaacs is well known all over this part of the state.
"Brief History of Old-Time Medford Firms Given," Medford Mail Tribune, September 29, 1930, page 8


    William F. (Toggery Bill) Isaacs and his son, Dick, had a thrilling encounter with an electric bed warmer Monday morning, between midnight and dawn, which resulted in the loss of considerable sleep, and a 50-pound mattress, which was completely destroyed by fire, water and rough handling on the lawn. Toggery Bill also had one leg toasted to an autumn brown.
    Dad and lad repaired to the hay, per usual Monday night, on the sleeping porch of their home at 115 North Oakdale Street. As the fog and frost were active, and rolled in unhindered upon them, the Isaacs thought they would reinforce several layers of Oregon City woolen blankets, Pendleton Indian blankets, U.S. Army blankets and a couple of pieces of canvas with an electric bed warmer. The contrivance was expected to take the dampness out of the sheets and besides, Richard had a bad cold. They installed the rig at the foot of the bed and relaxed for a good, old-fashioned country sleep.
    In about 20 minutes, Richard, who is a University of Oregon law student, alleged that he smelled something, and in 20 minutes more further alleged that he had stuck a foot into what he alleged to be fire. The father attributed the allegations to the youthful imagination of his offspring and instructed him to go to sleep, as they both needed it.
    About three o'clock in the morning, the father thought that he detected an unseemly odor, akin to a horse burning up, and thought that his left shank was getting a trifle sultry, so he hopped out of bed, to discover a young conflagration raging in his midst. The mattress and the blankets were smoldering in a businesslike manner, and there was a great hustling around after water. A valuable Turkish rug in the path of the threatening flames was rescued.
    It was the original intention to subdue the incipient blaze on the spot, but finally the mattress was yanked out on the lawn, where it had water squirted on it, and fully demonstrated that nothing is so hard to extinguish as a mattress, as it was still burning in a languid manner at three o'clock the following afternoon.
    As near as can be figured out, the semi-disaster was due in the first place to the cord attached to the bed warmer burning off, and in the second place to Toggery Bill turning the warmer into high when he thought he was turning it off, and in the third place to the well-known indifference of sleeping people to take anything seriously, viz: Get up and look around and see what is causing the current discomfort.
    Dick's cold is better, and his father is none the worse for battling the smudge in his pajamas, instead of his pants, which the weather most certainly warranted him wearing.
Medford Mail Tribune, December 23, 1930, page 6


    He was a fisherman then and he's a fisherman now--Wm. F. Isaacs, better known to the sports world as Toggery Bill.
    Mr. Isaacs' history as a fisherman can easily be traced through articles by him and about him published from year to year by the press.
    One of the most interesting articles is that published in the Oregon Journal for Sunday, August 18, 1907. The story carries a picture of Mr. Isaacs and five of
his famous catches as well as one of him casting his fly into the Rogue.
    The fish in the famous catches range from trout to Chinook salmon, with many gamey steelhead in the lineup. One catch included 106 pounds of fish.
    Mr. Isaacs' country home, Big Rock Lodge on Rogue River, is one of the most beautiful fishing lodges in Southern Oregon and has been the scene of much entertaining for prominent national figures as well as crack fishermen, for "Bill" has always specialized in showing the river to visitors from all points and has been responsible for the arrival in Southern Oregon of many famous people.
    Among those who were introduced to the thrills of fishing the Rogue by Mr. Isaacs were Dr. Holden, assistant medical director of the Metropolitan Lite Insurance Company of Now York, and Frank O. Ayres, assistant manager of the same company. Mr. Ayres came to Southern Oregon in 1902 to do some fishing and was  so impressed by Bill's fly casting that he invited him to enter the flycasting contest in the East, insisting upon him accepting his invitation at his expense.
    Frank DuMond, artist of New York City and brother-in-law of the former Col. Robert Washburn, fished the Rogue with "Bill" and had such a good time he returned to Southern Oregon again in 1930, bringing Mrs. DuMond and their daughter with him.
    Romilly Fedden, painter and writer of London, England, Walter Mansfield, former prominent lawyer and politician and champion flycaster of the world; Chas. Hamilton, Hamilton Manufacturing Company of Three Rivers, Wis. and President Hoover are among others who enjoyed steelhead fishing in Rogue River with Mr. Isaacs.
    An article written by Bill himself, on "Fishing in Rogue River," published in Medford's Magazine, edited by Arthur Brown of this city, April, 1909, reads:
    "One September morning Clarence and I left Medford for the Rogue River for a day's fishing; never was there a more beautiful morning. Day had just won supremacy over night by driving back the darkened shrouds with the sun's burnished shafts. The birds trilled merrily their lusty songs; the squirrels scampered hastily across our path and all nature was alive, chanting the glory of the awakening day. The morning air, so crisp and invigorating, gave us new life and energy for the sport.
    "As we neared the river the noise of the rushing water reached our ears and we were unable to resist its mighty spell, urged our horses on and on until, lo! before us suddenly appeared the mighty Rogue. The rocky, foaming, tumultuous Rogue, whose deep, dark pools held the shimmering steelhead.
    "The horses were soon unharnessed and the rods and tackle made ready. With waders that reached to the armpits we were soon forcing our way through the heavy current to the head of a riffle in the center of the stream.
    "Those who have seen the Rogue at the mouth of Little Butte Creek need no description of the mad rushing waters forcing their way through the deep channels of bedrock. It is by no means an easy task for the angler to keep his footing at this point, owing to the slippery rocks in the bed of the stream.
    "We enjoyed some splendid sport, having landed several fine steelhead, when Clarence went to camp to prepare lunch, while I changed my tackle, putting on a new leader in place of the worn one and a No. 8 gray hackle.
    "I waded out on a narrow ledge of bedrock within reach of my favorite pool, and after making several casts without a strike was about to start for camp, when suddenly a huge steelhead made a wild rush to my fly, but missed it. I immediately cast my fly back where the big fellow lay in waiting, and no sooner had the fly struck the water than he made another vicious strike and away he went over the rapids into the air, my reel fairly singing. My heart came up in my mouth and cold chills played up and down my spinal column, giving me that nameless, indescribable feeling known only to the angler.
    "Suddenly my line slackened, and for a moment my heart sank with the conviction that I had lost my prize; but, reeling in with much speed, I discovered that he had reversed his course and was fast making way upstream toward me.
    "Soon I had recovered most of my line but again my gamey steelhead made a run, leaping into the air, his brilliant sides glittering in the sunlight. On and on, this time downstream, he went, taking with him all my line, and I was forced to follow.
    "In water frequently to my armpits, I pursued him at least a quarter of a mile, often losing my footing in the heavy current. He being now practically exhausted, I worked my way to shore, and made several attempts to land him, but in vain. My landing net was of no avail, being far too small for my monster trout. With such extremely light tackle I was indeed laboring under fearful odds.
    "Finally, reeling him up to the water's edge, and slipping my fingers into his gills, I lifted him triumphantly from the stream, just as Clarence appeared upon the scene.
    "My prize, 33 inches long and weighing 12 pounds, I had taken from the treacherous Rogue on a No. 8 gray hackle and a seven-ounce rod. The fight lasted an hour and forty minutes--but the battle was ended and I had won!"
    The Rogue Magazine, also edited by Arthur Brown, carries a story of Mr. Isaacs in the March 1910 number. This one, written by someone who knew him very well, tells of his civic activities as well as fishing ability.
Medford Mail Tribune, March 1, 1931, page C1


    A special stunt to bring increased advertising to the Medford pear in Chicago has been arranged for the meeting in the eastern city of the national convention of the Civic Music Association, it was announced today.
    Wm. F. Isaacs, who leaves tonight to represent the Southern Oregon branch at the convention, will take with him many pear booklets and other literature, telling the story of Medford and the pear industry.
    At the banquet of all delegates to be held in the Palmer House, he will present the booklets and some fresh Medford pears, to be donated by the Palmer corporation. Mr. Isaacs is also on the program for a short talk, subject of which will be pears "and pears."
Medford Mail Tribune, January 7, 1932, page 8

Last revised November 18, 2024