DECKHAND FOR A DAY; LEARNING THE UPS AND DOWNS OF HELPING OUT.

Byline: BRETT PAULY Angling

Call me the Tangle Wrangler.

The endearing term was bestowed upon me during my self-appointed duty of unraveling fishing lines as the charter boat Southern Cal swayed on the anchor in 90 feet of water outside Long Beach Harbor.

I now know what it's like to be a deckhand, if only for a day. The big difference, of course, is that these anglers were kids willing to listen and learn, not bullheaded fishermen with their own agendas. I'll be more than happy to limit any subsequent deckhand chores to teen-agers and grade-schoolers.

Dozens of other helping hands donning blue shirts tagged along for the Los Angeles Rod & Reel Club's 50th annual Kids Trip out of Long Beach. They were there to aid the 458 counselors and mostly underprivileged youths aboard eight half-day charter boats based at Pierpoint Landing. While this was the first time fishing for many of the children, it also was a big departure for the club's volunteers.

Instead of reeling in fish themselves, they were assisting others. Instead of slapping the back of a deckhand after a fish is gaffed, they were getting their backs slapped. Instead of sharing stories that only anglers can tell - and embellish - they listened intently to those handling the reels and rods spin the day's tales taller and taller.

What they received was a better appreciation for the highs and lows that full-time deckhands go through - from witnessing the elation of a first-time angler's inaugural catch to being treated like a part of the railing by a bunch of whining youngsters squeamish about baiting their own hooks.

``It's a tough job,'' said volunteer deckhand Jayme Dinovitz, a fourth- and fifth-grade teacher at Haynes Street Elementary in Canoga Park. ``You have eight people in a row and one person catching a fish on the end and it crosses everybody else and you have eight lines in a big, huge cluster. Then you have to cut everyone's line and you have to hand-line the fish in and bring it all up while everyone else is screaming, `Where's my fish, where's my fish?' ''

``These are kids,'' Dinovitz said. ``So a deckhand with a bunch of adults with no patience, there's a nightmare.''

He fully understands the plight of the professional deckhand, who can just as easily be a hero when fish are coming over the rails and as a heel when the bite gets picky. Ryan Carino, of Signal Hill, a full-time deckhand aboard the Southern Cal, hopes the volunteers can spread their newfound knowledge to other anglers on future outings.

``I would like it if when they go on the other boats, they can explain what deckhands do,'' Carino said. ``When fishing's kind of tough and you get a lot of guys (gathering) in circles and they start rippin' you, I would hope one of these (volunteers) might step up and say, `Hey, this is how it is; you can't catch them every day. Hey, I did this one day; it's not that easy.' ''

As one of the volunteers, my goal for the adventure was to instill in the youngsters a better sense of independence while having a little fun and promoting a new recreation that, hopefully, would lead to a lifelong pursuit, if only for a single angler. Phrases such as, ``Hold on,'' ``Wait your turn'' and ``The only way to learn is to bait your own hook,'' were etched on my mind upon departing the Southern Cal after the four-hour tour.

There were some success stories.

Lakewood's Ron Taylor - a cousin of the Lakers' Shaquille O'Neal who, at 12, already stands 6-foot-1 and wears a size 16 shoe - was timid around the bait tank.

``You put on the bait,'' I told Taylor when he hesitated. ``Am I going to have to tell Shaq you were scared of a little anchovy?'' By journey's end, he was baiting the hooks of anyone who asked.

Then there was little 8-year-old Kenif Lucas of Hollywood, who was too shy to speak up when volunteers asked who hadn't taken a fish. As the skipper called for all lines to be pulled up for the ride back to port, he tugged my shirttail and explained he was fishless. Turns out he was the only kid who hadn't caught anything.

This just wouldn't do, so I tossed a line out as the anchor was being retrieved, hooked a sand bass and handed it off to the boy. The day's final fish was the first catch of his young life. I got a chill when he turned around after speaking with his friends and explained, ``I caught the last fish with you.''

The life of the deckhand is seldom glorious. It's not a big moneymaker, benefits are few and advancement is tough, so you've got to love your work. On the other hand, they're out on the water all the time and enjoy that unexplainably detached feeling when the metropolis is left back dockside.

``It's never the same thing twice, that's what I like about it,'' Carino said. ``You can go from catching nothing in the morning to going out in the afternoon and just catching so much you could go to jail for it.

``I just like it when people thank me.''

Of course, any story about deckhands would be remiss without mentioning that the crews of some party boats are anything but scrupulous. For as many deckhands who are sincerely helpful, I've seen others who would just as soon demean newcomers, have a good chuckle over customers who get seasick and extend preferential treatment to ringers aiming to hustle jackpot money for the captain and crew in exchange for a free trip. As a result, their reputation is far from sterling.

The young crew aboard the Southern Cal on this fine afternoon in the San Pedro Channel appeared genuine, if not grizzled, and pumped up to lend any support they could. Then again, when one of the vessel's deckhands was reminded after he threw a broken reel handle overboard that youngsters learn by example, the offender quipped, ``It's only plastic.''

Wrong answer. I guess you get the respect you deserve.

But enough on the good, the bad and the ugly of deckhands. The Los Angeles Rod & Reel Club's volunteers got a taste of it all on this day. And no doubt they would agree with me the experience was enlightening and well worthwhile.

Anytime you can be even a small part of putting smiles on faces, yeah, it's well worthwhile.

``That's what it's all about,'' said volunteer deckhand Steve Simon of Valley Village.

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4 Photos

Photo: (1--2--Color) Los Angeles Rod & Reel Club volunteer Richard Lapidus offers advice. Top right, Tyrell Hicks, 10, of Lynwood, celebrates as his barracuda is brought over the rail.

(3--Color) Club volunteer Steve Simon of Valley Village, right, attends to the reels on board the Southern Cal at trip's end.

(4--Color) Southern Cal deckhand Ryan Carino, left, and his comrades have seen many highs and lows.

David R. Crane/Staff Photographer