Chapter 8
THE CHATHAM TAVERN LOOKS like one of those ancient American
watering holes that might have been frequented by the likes of Benjamin
Franklin and Thomas Jefferson back in the day. Maybe the joint they would have
come to immediately after scribbling their signatures on the Declaration of
Independence and committing high treason against Mother England. Made entirely
of rough wood planks and heavy beams, the low-ceilinged establishment is heated
by an honest-to-goodness hearth-and-kettle brick fireplace to the left of the
door. To the right is a long wooden bar so old its thick plank top is worn from
the countless elbows, glasses, mugs, and bottles that have no doubt occupied it
for a century or more.
Just like the fly fisherman told me, at the very end of the
bar is an e
