William Blacklaws, Kincardiine O' Neil

OK so William Blacklaws is not one of the Aberdeen makers, he was based in Kincardine O Neil a village (the oldest village) on Deeside, he is very important to the history of the area as a rod maker, fly maker and friend of William Brown.

The Blacklaws headstone at Kincardine O Neil

The only example I have found of a reel with Blacklaws name - it's salmon sized

Above a selection of salmon rods made by William Blacklaws - they have a very distinctive style

The Story of William Blacklaws

Famous Fishermen – William Blacklaws, Fishing Gazette, 10^th August 1889

It is now nearly three score years and ten since William Blacklaws, one of the best and best known fishermen in the Aberdeenshire Dee, and one of the most famous rod makers, in the world, first saw light near the banks of his favourite river- one of the finest salmon streams in the kingdom. He was born in 1820, in the parish of Banchory, about eighteen miles from the mouth of the Dee. Here the crystal stream sweeps rapidly over its pebbly bed. Its gently-sloping banks are richly clad with verdant fir, larch or pines, and here and there cultivated haughs break the line of wood and afford a pleasing variety grateful to the eye of the of the angling tourist, who finds at every turn exquisite bits of scenery which have given the valley of the Dee a world-wide celebrity as one of Scotland’s most beautiful spots. Here William Blacklaws passed his boyhood. He attended the parish school, but he spent all his holidays, and most of his play-hours, at the side of the Dee, and its neighbouring tributaries – especially the Feugh – catching trout with tackle of his own making and flies of his own dressing.

William’s father held the comfortable position of grieve or overseer at Banchory lodge, and was himself one of the most noted sportsmen on Deeside. He had been much about Blackhall castle, in the wild old days when Fitzzean, Lord Kennedy, Barclay of Urie, and kindred spirits indulged in their madcap escapades, and the old man was in the habit of relating with the greatest gusto the part he had played in the hare-brained “ploys” of these enthusiastic and ofttimes eccentric sportsmen. “Young William” was a true chip off the old block. He took a keen pleasure in all out-door sports, and was always ready for mischievous pranks. When quite a boy he killed his first salmon, and though he has since landed many scores of the royal silvery denizens, he still recounts his first conquest “with all a sportsman’s ecstasy.”

When his school days were over William was apprenticed as a gardener at Banchory Lodge, and a trick which he and his cousin, Jock Adam – still remembered on Deeside as they famous Feughside blacksmith and salmon slayer – played on his father shows what manner of a boy he was. The elder Blacklaws was, it must be explained, a great tier of flies, and, if anything, conceited as to the particular size of the irons. One day, early in spring, he was observed by the two lads to be “tearing up and down,” as they phrased it, in a great rage at the carrier because the three-inch irons which he had bought from Aberdeen were too small. The youths resolved to satisfy the “Old Boy,” and Jock, who was already a proficient in smith work, forged an iron three feet long, barbed, and all complete, and William dressed the hook with peacock and turkey-cock feathers after the orthodox pattern. It was neatly made up into a parcel, and duly delivered on the opening days. In a note which accompanied it the hope was expressed that Mr. Blacklaws would find it large enough, at any rate. The old man was furious; but his tormentors enjoyed the joke immensely.

When “Young William” had completed his apprenticeship he was retained as a gardener at Banchory Lodge, and by-and-by he began to think that it was not good for a man to be alone. We do not propose telling the story of his courting days, but there is one exciting episode which must not be passed over. His sweetheart was in the service of an old lady who lived on the banks of the Feugh, and one night about dusk, as is still the custom of the country, “Young William” set out for the domicile of his beloved. Reaching the back window he, as is usual on such occasions, tapped lightly on one of the panes. As bad luck would have it the whole household had been thrown into confusion by the sudden arrival of the old lady’s son from abroad, and he was moving about near the back window when the amorous signals were given. He immediately opened the door, and the expectant lover clasped, not the fair form of his darling, but the muscular frame of the six-foot son of her mistress. Both men were equally taken aback for a second, but the young master immediately returned the hug of the gardener, and both being powerful men, a desperate tussle ensued. Over and over they rolled, the one on top of the other, and down the embankment into the bed of the Feugh. The gardener landed uppermost, and the other combatant, who was stunned by the fall, relaxed his hold. William now saw his opportunity, and lost no time in showing a clean pair of heals.

Next day the “Battle of the Feugh” was the great sensation in Banchory. The police were searching everywhere, and a reward of five pounds was offered for the apprehension of the delinquent. “Old William” now delights to tell the story, and at this point he generally remarks – “It was twenty lang years and mair before I breathed a syllable to onybody that I kent onything aboot it. Luckily there was no real harm done. The young man had sair banes for a day or twa, but so had I, and what was waur, durstna sat a word aboot it.”   

Shortly afterwards the young gardener married the heroine of the startling escapade, and his nocturnal visitations came to an end. He was happy in his choice, and his good wife still shares in all the joys and sorrows of his busy life. She has in no small measure, by her industry, thrift, and excellent management, contributed to the happiness and comfort which has all along attended their family circle, and support in times of difficulty and trial.

At Banchory Lodge at the onset of his career, “Young William” was happy in all his relations. His position was rightly considered a very comfortable one for his experience and station in life. In all probability he would have been content to remain there, and the world might have lost one of its finest rod-makers, had it not been for a disagreeable incident. He quarrelled with the coach-man, and after that the place was not large enough for them both. In justice to the subject of our sketch, matters must be explained. The coach-man kept a number of pigs, and in foraging for them he wrought sad havoc in the garden without asking leave or licence. This was more than any gardener with a just pride in his work could stand. It is, therefore, not at all surprising that “Young William” gave the coach-man a sound thrashing, when one morning, he found him ruthlessly despoiling the sacred cabbage beds. This incident, as Blacklaws recently remarked, led to “court martial.” The coach-man had grown old in service at Banchory Lodge, and was a great favourite, so matters at first looked very black for the young gardener; but when everything was known he was acquitted of all blame. What followed may be best explained in the words of Mr. Blacklaws himself. “I felt,” he says, “that the situation could not be comfortable or conducive to my piece of mind so long as the coach-man and I remained in the same employment, and, being the younger of the two, I felt it was my duty to give in my warning, and sorely against my mistress’s will I left Banchory Lodge a month afterwards.

Immediately after this Blacklaws took service with Mr. Harvey, of Cairnoustie, on Deveron side. Here he was gardener, keeper, and fisherman by turns, and he felt equally at home in all these diverse roles. He did not, however, remain long there, but, after a short interval, returned to his well-beloved Deeside. For three years after he was Mr. Winslow, tenant of Blackhall Castle; and on the famous Blackhall water he had every facility for increasing his proficiency as a fisherman. Here for the first time he saw what is commonly known as artificial minnow angling. “Mr. Winslow,” remarked Blacklaws, the other day, “had every engine then known for the killing of salmon. If a fish were seen to rise and refuse the fly and other lures, Mr. Winslow put over him his ‘minnow,’ which consists of a small, dry, salted garvie – white and silvery, that he kept in a small barrel – and I never saw it fail. It was the most deadly bait I ever knew. No matter how bright the day or how small and clear the water may have been, salmo took the garvie when he fought shy of everything else.

Blacklaws thought it was a lazy life in the winter time at Blackhall, as he had nothing to do but tie flies, make casts, and prepare tackle for the coming season. The monotony was, however, often relieved by a day on the hills among the roe deer, and whoever returned empty handed, the subject of our sketch was seldom of the number. He was a crack shot in his day, and even yet, although his sight is failing, he yields the palm to very few at any of the local hunts.

After leaving Blackhall he served some time at Borrowstone house, Kincardine O’Neil, where he laid out the present garden. Here he had the run of the fine pools belonging to the Borrwostone fishings, and he whipped many a silvery beauty from the Gannets, the Greenbanks, and the Bridge pools.

From Borrowstone house he passed into the service of Captain Farquar, Carlogie, now Admiral Sir Aurthur Farquar, K.C.B., Drumnagesk, Aboyne. Then began, in earnest, the work which has earned him his world-wide reputation. His duties at Carlogie were nominally those of a gardener, but he was so much sought after for the river and for the hill, that he was practically more of a keeper than anything else, and ultimately the garden was merely superintended by him in the seed and fruit seasons. He had for years been in the habit of repairing rods for gentlemen, and he did it so deftly that no one who could secure his services ever thought of sending a “break” to Aberdeen. He had, however never tried to make a rod, and it was apparently in the most casual way that he was first induced to make the experiment. When he came to Carlogie the gentleman who had rented the shootings and fishings had not arrived. Here was a fine water in which a salmon might at any time be killed; but there was no rod. Blacklaws, who by this time had a serviceable collection of tools, set to work, and in two days produced his first complete fishing rod – a spliced rod, with butt and middle joint of ash, and a lancewood top. His first attempt was a decided success. As soon as Mr. Natkins, the gentleman who had taken a sub-let of Carlogie, saw it, he was stuck with its fine balance, and having tried it, he ordered a similar one for himself. After this every sporting gentleman that came that way felt he was not fully equipped till he got Blacklaws to make him a rod, and for the next eleven years every moment of William’s spare time was devoted to the manufacture of those “favours” that were inevitably booked long in advance. He was now in possession of a good turning lathe and better tools, and the excellence of his workmanship kept pace with the gradual improvement of his apparatus. Admiral Farquar was often home on leave, or resting in the intervals of his appointments, and at such time he had always more or less company at Carlogie. New rods were more in demand than ever, and the fame of the rod maker was being carried further a field with every newcomer.