Any cook in the South knows how to cook catfish. It just comes with the territory. But as my oldest brother once told me about a cooking fundraiser, and I’m paraphrasing a touch, “They make food to sell. We make food to eat.”
Larry Kelly made catfish to eat, and it sold, and it sold well. He told me in a 2018 interview that he had been cooking catfish for over 40 years. He got smart in 1996 and opened up his own restaurant in my daddy’s hometown, Itta Bena, called Larry’s Fish House. With an “all you care to eat buffet” that had fried, broiled and baked catfish, fries, hushpuppies and other scrumptious things that were fried or had a good portion of butter or bacon grease in the recipe. Everybody arrived hungry and went home happy — every single time.
But the Catfish Man passed away last week after suffering complications from back surgery. I’m thinking that Jesus got tired of cooking fish on the shore for folks and called in a certified and glorified expert and fellow carpenter to feed all of heaven. And you know he is and he’s smiling and wiping sweat off his brow and talking to all the men that fell from the sky in the tragic Yanky72 disaster.
I first met the Catfish Man on my daddy’s catfish ponds in the 1980s. He was seining and directing his crew as they emptied ponds of the right-sized fish. He would scoop, hold it and write down the weight, dump it in a waiting truck and do it all over again until thousands and thousands of pounds of catfish were loaded and hauled to all corners of the world. I’ve got a photo somewhere of him at work that I’ll have to dig out and post online.
Back in 2018, I got the chance to interview Mr. Larry right around the memorial for the Yanky72 crew. He told me he was in Indianola cooking catfish when he saw the smoke from the crash back up Highway 82. When he got up Tuesday morning to get to Cleveland for a haircut, he knew he had to help out somehow. The Greenwood mayor called and asked for his help, and he told her he was already on it.
“I need to find out how to feed these folks. I can cook and feed a whole lot of people in a short amount of time,” Kelly said. “We started cooking and fed them from then on.”
He cooked breakfast and then he cooked catfish and he kept going. Day after day after day throughout the entire tragedy and cleanup and the official ceremony that honored the fallen heroes.
“We were cooking breakfast, lunch and supper. Sometimes other groups cooked but I lined it all up,” he said. “We were averaging 300 people per meal per day. We were cooking 500 biscuits, 30 dozen eggs and 500 sausage patties in the morning. At 2:30 a.m. we got up and went to the Fish House and started cooking and took it over and started serving at 5:30 a.m.”
He kept cooking, kept serving, kept giving. That’s what he knew. He didn’t attend the ceremony to honor the sacred spot and the naming of the highway. He was busy cooking more than 300 pounds of catfish, 250 pounds of french fries, 100 pounds of hush puppies and 70 gallons of tea to feed the mass of folks that had gathered to honor the fallen soldiers. Larry Kelly never stopped. I can’t imagine what it looked like when Jesus took the loaves and fish and fed 5,000 folks but I’m sure it inspired the Catfish Man and he just did what he did to replicate it all and keep feeding the hungry and needy.
“The Lord gave me the ability to cook. I can cook for a whole lot of people in a short amount of time. I have the people to help me that we can get it done and that’s why I wanted to help out,” he said.
He tried to go to Vietnam to be an airplane mechanic, was classified as 4F, and even tried again but was turned down. He got into cooking catfish in 1970.
“I’ve been catering for 40 years and opened the Fish House in 1996. We’ve got the best catfish in the world and we have a world-wide following,” he said.
When the military leadership first came, they didn’t drink sweet tea or eat fried fish but by the end of their Delta experience with the Catfish Man, they were asking him to come back with them and fry fish and make sweet tea for them. Brigadier General Bradley James, overseeing the tragedy, noted that even though he was from Georgia, he didn’t eat fried fish. But after meeting the Catfish Man, he was up 20 pounds, and even when the military sent a nutritionist, the general let him know, “This man is cooking catfish for us.”
The Catfish Man and all the military personnel had all bonded over a tragedy and catfish.
“I didn’t realize how close of friendships we’ve made. Big boys don’t cry but we did. Just from being there,” Kelly said.
Big boys don’t cry or we try not to but with the passing of the Catfish Man, it’s a tremendous loss for the Delta and the world. I’m sure he’ll keep the grease hot till we all meet again in that Fish House in the sky. Thank you for your service here, Mr. Larry Kelly — the Catfish Man.
