Helen Hicks in the early 1960s after winning the shucking competition. [ State Archives of Florida ]
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Eastpoint woman set standard for oyster shucking

Nowadays, when the Florida Seafood Festival holds its oyster shucking contest, it is invariably all men, almost always from area raw bars, who compete.

But six decades ago, when the festival was first resurrected in the early 1960s from its turn-of-the-century origins, it was an Eastpoint woman who swept the competition.

Helen Hicks, now in her earlier 90s, was the victor for three straight years, as she used a block and hammer method to crack open the oyster and then carefully slice it onto a tray with a knife.

Helen Hicks rides in the Franklin County High School homecoming parade with her son-in-law Buddy Shiver driving his vintage Corvette convertible. [ David Adlerstein | The Times ]

“We had 50 oysters to shuck and the first one that got finished shucking won the contest,” said Hicks. Today, the contest requires contestants only shuck 18 oysters.



Hick’s bossman at Messick Seafood put up the $5 for her to enter the contest, representing his seafood house against reps from other seafood businesses.

The first year she edged Jerry Hicks, her husband’s nephew, for the title, and then won again the next year. But all she got was a handshake and a trophy for her victories, until the third year when she recalled winning $35.

“The first and second year I don’t remember what I got, but that third year, we had a horse and my kids wanted a certain saddle so I took the money and went and bought them a saddle for their horse,” she said.

It may have been for King, a quarter house that was popular with her daughter Debbie Shiver, and sons Larry and Michael Hicks, the three children of her and husband of nearly 50 years, the late Harvey Hicks.

The fourth year, Hicks wasn’t feeling well, but was talked into it by the seafood house, and ended up having to settle for just a threepeat.

“One year the chamber of commerce sent me down south to a seafood festival in Grant, with Mayor James Daly,” she said. “They flew us down there and it was the first airplane flight I ever had.”

When she got there, Hicks noticed the oysters were more of a scissor bill than she was used to. “I thought I may have trouble with this,” she said.

But feeling competitive after a highly touted competitor told her the day before that “I’m going to beat you tomorrow,” Hicks volunteered at the church booth to study how best to shuck them.

“I wanted to get a feel of how hard I needed to hit it,” she said. 

When the contest was over that man did get first in speed, but was runner-up to Hicks in appearance.

“I was always careful because I usually shucked for my husband, and if you cut an oyster, it bleeds a lot. I wanted mine whole, or it doesn’t hold up,” she said. “I had a lot of good teachers, who gave me a lot of good tips. My goodness, I wished I could shuck like them.”

Hicks was still in school, at about age 15, when she got her start, going to the oyster houses in the afternoon to learn how to shuck. At age 18 she got married, and about 50 years later, she finally ended her career at the shucking stalls.

“I felt like if anybody else could do it, I could do it too,” she said. “But I got to where I couldn’t stay at the stall, from too many pulled muscles. I cried whenever I had to quit; I felt I was giving up a little of my independence.”

Shucking oysters back then involved cracking open an oyster that was set into and secured against a wooden, and later a metal block, with a special hammer and a wedge, and after cutting it free placing it into a bucket of ice water. The oysters were then placed into a skimmer ring, which removed the mud and shell fragments, and measured into a gallon bucket.

“I shucked oysters for my husband, and sometimes we would shuck for somebody else. We could shuck sometime for the house,” she said.

Back then a bag yielded two five-gallon cans of oysters, and shuckers got paid $3 or $4 a gallon. “I have shucked them for a dollar a gallon,” Hicks said.

She said shuckers had some flexibility with their hours. “Sometimes I would go in at 5 or 6 in the morning and work to 4 or 5 in the afternoon,” she said. 

The most she ever did in a day was 27 gallons and five pints. “We ran out of oysters and didn’t have any more to shuck,” she said.

In her third victory, Hicks defeated a contestant who was using a shucking machine, newly introduced into the area by Roy Smith.

“It was a faster way once you got used to it,” she said. “You had to be real careful; a lot of people got their hands hurt in the machine.” 

The machine has sharp teeth welded into it, and had guards, and you put your hands behind the guard and eased the oyster in against the teeth.

“One girl had long hair and she wasn’t paying too much attention and got her hair cut,” Hicks said. “Some people got cut and could lose a finger. It was dangerous, but it was safe when you paid attention.”

All things considered, Hicks looks back fondly on her career.

“It was a hard job but I loved it,” she said. “I’ve had a hard life but I’ve had a good life.”



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Meet the Editor

David Adlerstein, The Apalachicola Times’ digital editor, started with the news outlet in January 2002 as a reporter.

Prior to then, David Adlerstein began as a newspaperman with a small Boston weekly, after graduating magna cum laude from Brandeis University in Waltham, Massachusetts. He later edited the weekly Bellville Times, and as business reporter for the daily Marion Star, both not far from his hometown of Columbus, Ohio.

In 1995, he moved to South Florida, and worked as a business reporter and editor of Medical Business newspaper. In Jan. 2002, he began with the Apalachicola Times, first as reporter and later as editor, and in Oct. 2020, also began editing the Port St. Joe Star.

Wendy Weitzel The Star Digital Editor

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