" All day naked youngsters are perched on these logs, watching their bait, chasing each other over the slippery lumber or diving and paddling in the water."

A story about naked boys in the late 1800s who fish for crabs among the millions of logs stored in and around the Erie and "Brooklyn" Basins.  (Note: A man-made basin, was planned to be built at the south-east of Erie Basin.  While it never came into fruition, the area became know for a time as Brooklyn Basin.)

The Morning Call, September 21, 1892
The Small Boy Goes "Crabbing.

Now is the season when the merry crabber, net in hand, wends his way to his favorite fishing grounds, which are mostly found at the foot of Clinton Street and in the Erie and Brooklyn basins, on each side of the long dock. The millions of logs that are stored there offer secure fishing stations for hundreds of anglers for the ugly looking but toothsome crustacean. All day naked youngsters are perched on these logs, watching their bait, chasing each other over the slippery lumber or diving and paddling in the water. The outfit of the crabber is simple enough. If fully equipped he carries a round purse net stretched over an iron ring some two or three feet in diameter. At the bottom a stone is dropped to stretch the net when in the water. The crab is a greedy feeder and not at all choice in what it eats. Fish heads or chunks of half decayed meat are fastened across the net, which is dropped in the water and secured by a rope to the stringpiece. Once in awhile it is hauled up and before master crab can disgorge he is out of his element and transferred to a bag or basket, there to squirm and pinch with his fellow captives. But the small boy's outfit is far simpler; it consists of a long handled net and a piece of string with a chunk of carrion tied to one end. This is lowered into the shallow water where crabs abound, and once in awhile the juvenile fisher draws the bait gently toward the surface. The crab is generally too busy to do anything but feed until he is almost at the surface, when the net is scooped under him and he is landed with a whoop of exultation. No angler for trout, salmon or bluefish pursues his game more intently than the crabber does, but how in these burning days the youngsters can remain naked on the logs for half a day without losing every particle of skin is a mystery. Their yellow little hides seem as impervious to the sun's heat as those of the Egyptian fellahs.—Brooklyn Eagle.

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A similar article was presented in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, August 27 1899.   Here is the text of that article:

The crabbing season Is at its height and "the Erie Basin swarms with fishers. They are of all classes and ages. Small boys tumble about on slimy logs and are pretty nearly as much in the water as on the logs. They are bareheaded and barefooted, and as their few clothes soon dry they don’t care. Others mingle the sports of bathing and crabbing and doff their ragged clothes with all the nonchalance and disregard for others of South Sea Islanders. Children of larger growth, mostly sturdy Germans or swarthy Italians from the colony in the Sixth Ward, throng the stringpieces of the Long Dock, or Beard’s Farm, and there ply their nets. A crabber’s equipment is simple. The impecunious small boy gets a piece of fishing line with a shred om feat tied to one end and a crapping net that costs a quarter. Dipping his bait in the water, he waits for a bite; then he slowly hauls up, and, generally before the crab can let go at the surface of the water, the net swoops under him and the wriggling crustacean is a prisoner. It is almost impossible to take the crab from the net by force, as he holds on to the meshes like grim death. When let alone he sidles out ant then is captured, the fisher taking good care to keep his fingers away from the claws. Which are capable of inflicting severe pinches, sometimes taking a piece out cleanly. There is a howl of pain from the sufferer, while his unregenerate companions yell with delight and execute a war dance on the logs.

Men, however, use lobster nets. These are made of an iron ring two or more feet in diameter, to which is meshed a purse net about three feet in depth. The bait is fastened in several places on a line stretched tightly across the ring. A stone is then placed in one end of the net as a sinker, and the crabber is ready for business. The net is cast overboard and the line attached is made fast to a spike or projection of some kind. Generally a crabber attends three or four nets and these keep him quite busily engaged during the ebb of the flood tide, which is the best time for the sport. Crabs seem very plentiful this year, probably because three dredgers have been at work in the basin for months past digging out chambers and approaches for the docks removed from the East River, and so frightened the crabs into a smaller area. Hundreds if not thousands are caught daily. Some of them are so small that the older fishermen throw them back into the water, but the small bots and Italians never do this. To them literally “all is fish that comes to the net” and they are consigned to the pot along with those of a larger growth. The largest crabs are caught on the bay side of the northerly line of the breakwater, where lobsters are also taken occasionally, but not so early in the season as this. They generally come along with the tomcods in October. But rarely is there a specimen of the spider crab taken, their principal habitat here being in the Horseshoe, in the lower bay. Snappers, or young blue fish, occasionally are caught around the Erie Basin and when they are running, they bite voraciously at anything and are caught in numbers. Two years ago an immense school of mackerel came up the bay. They swarmed for four days about Erie Basin and thousands of them were captured. Then they disappeared as suddenly as they came. They next appeared in the Atlantic Dock and numbers were captured for two days. Then the school, or what was left of it, made its way out and there was no more mackerel fishing then, nor have there been any since.