8 June 2022
To the family and friends of Bradford Endicott
My name is Richard A. James. I was the farm manager of the fish farm in Honduras where Brad had invested considerable sums of money.
I recently learned that Brad passed away in 2018. I am sure that you knew him much better than I but perhaps I can share some experiences with you that shed some light on the fine character of the man.
At that time the project consisted of two sections,
1 The processing plant and general office in the village of Calpules, run by Gary Loff the general manager.
2 The fish farm, 400 acres located alongside the Ulua River, a few miles downstream from the town of Progeso, run by myself, the farm manager.
The farm site consisted of about 400 acres of abandoned banana farm, property of Chiquita Banana, United Fruit Company. That banana farm was probably established around the 1920s, the heyday of United Fruit in Central America. In those days banana culture was much hindered by sigatoka fungus disease, endemic in the soil. The disease was mostly controlled by spraying large amounts of copper, so much so that the soil became contaminated with copper and became no longer serviceable for banana production.
The name of the fish culture company was PRAGUA (Productos de Agua SA), (Water Products Inc). PRAGUA had leased the lands of the abandoned farm from United Fruit for a term of 90 years. At the time of the beginning of the lease the lands had lain fallow for maybe 40 or 50 years. We built river levies, ponds, drain canals, and water delivery canals. We had a hatchery which consisted of many large tanks where we hatched the fish eggs and raised them up to where they were large enough to release into the ponds for further growth.
Water was supplied by a big lift pump which had been installed by United Fruit Company about 50 years before and abandoned since then. This was a very large low lift pump, 880 volts ¨DC, Good technology for it’s time but now a real museum piece. The discharge mouth of the pump was about six feet in diameter, a man could stand inside the thing.
In order to start the old grungy monster one had to seal everything with sheets of rubber and plastic and then suck vacuum for an hour or more till the pump was primed. Then throw the big switch WHAM BANG SPARKS JUMPING and a huge gush of water would spurt into the canal.
In his visits to the farm Brad helped me start that pump a few times. We were like excited kids with a Thomas Edison laboratory. It was great fun. You know, big toys for big boys. The smile on his face and the glint in his eyes when that pump started told me he felt the same excitement as I. Great moments shared. Totally in tune with each other. Nothing is better, nothing is more fun, than this.
About 1972 I was hired by Garry Loff, the project manager, to run the fish farm. That is a story in itself. At the time I had a mechanical repair shop in San Pedro Sula. The fish company sent me pumps for repair, many pumps. I did not know these people nor did I know anything about the company. But I saw many pumps being sent repeatedly for the same problems.
So I contacted Mr Loff, met with him, and told him that he has a maintenance problem because equipment should not fail repeatedly for the same causes.
Mr Loff then asked me to go to the farm for a week or two to survey all the equipment and establish proper maintenance practices. I made time in my schedule and was happy to do it. Sounded like fun. After I finished I met with Mr Loff again and presented him some 100 pages of investigations and practices to establish. I told him that if he likes the report then pay me for it. If he doesn’t like the report then pay me nothing. I was pretty confident that he would like it.
I sat and waited while he read the reports, maybe half an hour. At that point he crinkled up his face, stared into nothing, and tossed the sheaf of papers onto his desktop. I’m thinking, “Whops, here comes trouble”. Silence for over a minute. So I screw up my bravado and tell him it is OK, if he doesn’t like it he owes me nothing.
“That’s not the problem”, Mr Loff replied. “I know my people”, he said. “The only way this is going to get done is if I hire you to go out there and manage the farm”. “Do you want the job?” I thought a few moments and told Mr Loff I would get back to him in a few days.
I did think about it and figured I could get it done, would be a good challenge, and sounded like fun. So I finished up the work pending in my shop and closed it. I phoned Mr Loff and told him that I would take the job but am leaving the country right now for two weeks and that he should prepare for my taking over the farm in two weeks.
The next day I flew to Auburn, Alabama because the university there was at the time the leading institution for the teaching and investigation of fish culture. I got myself a meeting with the head of that department and told him I am soon to take over a large commercial fish farm, that I knew piratically nothing about it, and could he please give me a reading list. For some reason he decided to humor this brash young nut case and gave me the reading list. The next day I purchased the books on the list and flew back to Honduras.
Upon arrival back in Honduras I checked into a decent inexpensive hotel and told the manager, no phone calls, no visitors, and send me three meals a day for two weeks. I locked the door and hit those books night and day for two weeks. I know that this certainly did not make me an expert but it did give me a wide general grounding, and, most important, gave me the discernment to ask the right questions.
So back to the fish farm. For several months I proceeded with the establishment of my procedures. I still had not met Brad and didn’t even know of his existence. One day I got a message from Garry Loff telling me to prepare for a visit by a major investor. Hmmmmm thinks I to myself, “I wonder how this is going to go”.
The next day a chauffeured car arrives and out steps a bearded gentleman in nice street clothes. It looked as though he had just stepped off the airplane. He introduced himself, said very little about himself, and politely asked me to show him around. So we go on a tour of 400 acres of lakes, ponds, canals, river frontage,machinery, and laboratory, him in his nice street clothes and shined shoes and me in my Bermuda shorts, no shirt, and muddy shoes. He asked for many explanations of things he saw, made few comments, and was obviously very discerning. He was so calm, so discerning, so thoughtful, he kind of acted like he owned the place but displayed no presumption or ego. I didn’t know it at the time, but of course, he DID virtually own the place. At the end of the day he thanked me, made no comments, and returned to his hotel in San Pedro Sula.
The next day he returned early in more appropriate clothing. Not really my concept of hands in the crud creative grunge, but definitely more appropriate. We continued the tour and I later asked him if he would like to see us feed the fish. He said sure so I grabbed a jeep and a couple of helpers and proceeded to the warehouse. He asked me to dismiss the helpers and helped me load the jeep with 100 lb bags of feed, just he and I. We drove the laden jeep out on the narrow tops of the pond levees and threw buckets of feed into the ponds. The fish surfaced by the thousands and created a maelstrom of feeding frenzy, whipping the entire surface of each pond into a storm of froth. Brad loved it. He laughed and shouted with every bucket of feed he threw into the pond. His joy and enthusiasm was contagious and we had a great time.
One day we were ready to harvest one of the ponds. We lowered the water so to concentrate the fish into a smaller area. With maybe 10 or 15 men we extended a long net over the full width of the pond and dragged the net, harvesting the fish as we slowly proceeded. Brad could not stand not being involved. Right there on the spot he removed all his clothing down to his jockey shorts. Jumped in. Up to his chest in water and mud he grunted and pulled that net like the best of them. He gave it all he had and the guys cheered him on.
I lived in a house on the farm with my wife and one child. There was extra room and I set up a kind of do it yourself laboratory with microscopes, slides, stains, etc. Brad and I spent quite a bit of time there, referring to text books, learning how to identify parasites and diseases and how to treat for them. With almost every trip Brad would bring hand me down stuff, supplies and equipment for the lab. All good stuff. He never charged the company for any of this. I did not know about his relationship with MIT at the time but now I wonder if he snitched from MIT labs. Hahaha
By 1974 the company had the farm just about in full production. There were over a million fish in the ponds. The processing plant was exporting about 40,000 pounds a week of frozen fish fillets and demand was good. We were not making much money yet but we were breaking even or better on all operation expenses. The future looked very good.
Then on 18 September of 1974 we were hit by Hurricane Fifi. Water flowed eight or ten feet over the tops of the levees. All the fish escaped. Everything was destroyed. In Honduras alone eight thousand people were killed.
I spent several days on the roof of my house till I was rescued by US Air Force helicopters which had flown in from Panama.
Brad saw that everything was a total loss and sent word that he would not be investing in reconstruction.
That was the last I ever heard or saw of Bradford Endicott. We both went on to other things. I still live in Honduras, now in Puerto Cortes. Now retired, 81 years old.
My memories of our association are the fondest and best. He was a man after my own heart, who experienced life to it’s deepest. He was one of the finest human being I have ever known.
If anyone has questions or would like clarifications or details you may email me at richard.james39@gmail.com
Make the best you can of your life. It is the only life you will ever have.
Good fortune to you all
Richard A. James
