The Fish-fry Murder
(Fiction by JP)
June 2010
It all went down back in the summer of ‘74. That was the summer when George McCrae topped the soul charts with “Rock Your Baby,” followed by Hues Corporation’s “Don’t Rock the Boat,” followed by William Devaughn’s “Be Thankful for What You Got,” a melody so Sweet, and so smooth that it even made the tobacco rows seem short. The ordinarily unbearable hot and blazing Sun seems like a mere beach umbrella.
Although the summer began with Isleys’ “Summer Breeze” and The Dell’s “I Wish It Were Me You Love,” by July, the city of “Miami” was “all the rage,” as George McCrae was eating up the Soul charts. The summer continued with perhaps the most beautiful of them all, “Gladys” (“Make yours a happy Home”), which was combined on her “Claudine” album with hits like “ON and ON.”
That’s right; the summer when Richard Nixon resigned from the Presidency was the most soulful ever. Pick a year, and you will not likely find one more soulful than 74. If 1970-74 were the height of “Soul Music,” then 1974 was its acme.
But our story takes place in Davis Station, SC, and we didn’t care about Nixon or Watergate. I remember this little girl who heard that the president was being impeached. She said, “Well, I hope they cut him up and put em in a Jar.”
It began on an unbearably hot and sultry Friday in late June 1974. The bossman permitted us to knock off at noon to have the annual fish fry.
I went home and took a bath but only ate a sandwich for my lunch. I saved my appetite for those fried breams, catfish stew, and steamed rice. I don’t care too much for the carp fish, but I would occasionally taste a small piece, at the most. There was something about how one side of carp fish would be dark and one white. However, both breams and catfish were white through and through. We all contributed ten dollars to cover all the fish, bread, rice, beer, and corn liquor.
Bono and Albert would cook because they were good at it. Big George always allows us to cook in the tree shade behind his juke joint because he knows that would help fill up his club later on Friday night.
It felt good in that tub, with that cool water washing away all the accumulated dirt and grime from the fields. It always feels good to get that tar off your hands after you have been cropping tobacco. I smoked a cool as I soaked in the soapy water. I could hear the chickens cackling across the yard. My mother was outside hanging clothes that she had washed earlier that day. In those days, you didn’t need a dryer; you hung the clothes on the line and let the sun go to work. However, remember to bring your clothes to the house before the rain.
I stayed in that tub for about 45 minutes before getting out and drying myself. I wore a short yellow-sleeved silk shirt with an oversized collar, green bell-bottom pants, and brown platform shoes. I walked down to Big George’s club at around 2:30. The first person I saw was Leroy. He didn’t even look like he’d gone home to bathe and change clothes. We used to tease Leroy about never taking a bath. He was drinking a Colt 45 malt liquor, so I ordered one. Big George had fat-ass Nathaniel working behind the bar. Everybody knew Nate was a sissy, but we never teased him much.
I asked Leroy, “Them fellahs ain’t get back with that fish yet?” “Nope, but it doesn’t take long to cook it once they get it here. Well, the catfish takes the longest because of the stew. But they’ll have everything ready fore five.” That was a couple more hours, and I was getting a bit hungry. I walked to the Thorton’s store and ordered a slice of boloney and a box of crackers. You don’t want that naked Colt 45 on your stomach in that heat. When I got to Old Man Thorton’s store, he was steadily sneezing and wiping his nose with his shirt sleeve. We knew he was nasty, but I was hungry. He and his old wife did not even wear gloves when they cut meat for you. I watched all those brown spots on their hands, hoping they didn’t touch my meat. We thought it was cancer, and I didn’t want any cancer on my boloney.
On my way back, I met Mabel walking towards me in a short skirt. She knew it was Friday and that most of the men had money, and that was when she made most of her money. She has been known to take as many as ten guys a night, charging them ten dollars a piece. But I wasn’t about to give her any of my money today. She said, “Hi baby, where do you think you are going?” I told her I was heading back to Big Georges and waiting for the fish fry. “You sho you don’t want to spend none of that money, honey? You know Big George got rooms up in there.” “Not today,” I replied and kept walking toward Big Georges. She’s never getting any of my hard-earned money.
When I returned, Leroy was still sitting on a stool, drinking his colt. A few minutes later, I saw Bono’s car pull up, and Albert sat in the front seat. I immediately got up and went out back. “About time! I thought you all weren’t ever coming back.” “Well, we had to find that corn liquor before we got that fish, and they didn’t come off that water with the fresh catfish until about 2:30. Come on around here and start skinning these catfish!”
I grabbed a knife and a pair of pliers and took the bucket of catfish over to a vacant table. Most of the catfish were still alive, so you had to ensure you didn’t get stuck by that fin because nothing was more painful. I grabbed the fish by the mouth with the pliers and quickly inserted the knife into her stomach. I made about a six-inch incision and began taking out the guts and throwing them in a trash bag. I then took the pliers and pulled the skin off them. Meanwhile, Bono and Albert had started a fire and set a black wash pot filled with water; that’s where we would cook the catfish.
Now and then, the clouds would come out and threaten rain, but then the Sun would return; they played hide and seek like that for the rest of the afternoon. Before long, Eddie and Little Man showed up. The little man had a pint of Grand Canadian sealed whisky that he must have gotten from Manning because there were no liquor stores in Davis Station in those days, only the illegal corn. Little-man was a short, muscular dude known to be the toughest man around. Once, I saw ’em grab a live snake by the tail and beat it to death on a hot asphalt highway; he would whip the snake against the road like he was cracking a whip. “Let’s get this show on the road,” Little Man cried out as he took another swig of the Grand Canadian whisky. “I’m drinking sealed whisky! Eddie was his partner, big, strong, and blacker than blackberries. “Start cleaning those carp and breams over there before y’all get too drunk,” Albert yelled towards them.
Meanwhile, I continued skinning the catfish, careful not to get any blood and guts on my clothes. I just got these pants off layaway and didn’t want to take them to the cleaners this soon. Plus, you have to drive to Manning even to find a cleaner. My momma always says we don’t need to take them to the cleaners in the first place if we learn how to iron properly. But I didn’t want any iron on my polyester because, you know it, you have holes. I also had a second pair of polyester on layaway, but I am saving them for the Fourth. That’s when all those pretty girls are coming up the road from places like B-More and Jersey. Some of um come from New York and Miami, but most are from B-More and Jersey. And Jersey has the finest girls around. B-More had some fine ones, too, but they needed to get all that faked gold out of their mouths before they could compete with Jersey. But when they come down here, I try to look my best. The only bad thing is that they think we are “country” and talk funny. But they don’t mind spending our money though. They try to pretend that the boys “up the road” are better, but from what I hear, most are in jail or prison. They are talking all of that mash, but when it is time for them to leave to go back “up the road,” they are crying, all like they are in love because they know there ain’t no loving like country loving, and you can believe that! Who sings that song about “ain’t no love in the heart of the city, ain’t no love in the heart of town?” That’s right, Bobby Blue Bland! These northern girls don’t care if you are even married cause they figure because they are from “up the road”, wives will just have to take a back seat while they down here. But some of the Country wives come upon them by surprise, and then they sing, “ain’t no ‘licking,’ like a country ‘licking,’ and you ain’t gon be taking my man from this side of town”! I have seen a whole family jump a woman sitting in the car with their daddy. She thought she was cool until they dragged her behind out of that car. And all their daddy did was take off in his car. He left his woman behind because he knew he had his coming later.
While I was cleaning the fish, Bono started cutting up onions and getting that hot sauce, fatback, black pepper, and salt ready. We don’t have to put on the rice yet because that’ll cook quicker than that stew, and we don’t want it ready too early. Before long, we were adding that catfish to that hot water and all the spices, and ain’t nothing like some good ole stewed catfish. Some people put potatoes in theirs, but we don’t. Cars are driving past, looking at us, and I know they want to come over and try to get some of this fish, but they didn’t contribute, and it isn’t nothing free out this piece.
We try to have the fish fry the week before the fourth because that is barbeque time. And when I say barbeque, I’m talking about a pig, not a chicken. I hear some people saying they are barbequing chicken. Around here, barbeque means pig; everything else must be something else. You ask a man for some barbeque; he doesn’t ask whether you want chicken or hot dog cause down here, he knows what you want. But the week before the fourth is our fish-fry time, and when you are serving catfish with all that black pepper, and those gnats are flying around, and sometimes they fall in your plate, and then you can’t tell the black pepper from the gnats. If it’s hot, that means it is pepper, but if it’s sweet, then you know you bite into a gnat, but it makes no difference cause seasoning is seasoning.
For a long time, we scooped up that rice and scooped that catfish stew on top of it. That, with some light bread, is all you need. Nowadays, people eat salad for their meals, but we don’t care anything bout no salad. Why do you want to mess up a meal with salad when the real thing is right in front of you? I don’t know who has been crazy enough to think of something stupid like that. And then some people claim that salad is all they eat, but they are the ones who have never had any catfish stew. All they need is one spoon of that catfish stew, and then that’ll teach them from “sucking eggs,” and you can believe that. I think they are trying to fool somebody. But we know the real deal in the big DS. You bring some salad round here that ain’t macaroni or potato; then you might just get shot, or at least stobbed.
After we finished eating and bonding, there were always these challenges and whatnot. Leroy had him a new can of Colt 45. He said to Little Man that he was going to set the can on the ground and count to 3, and if Little Man grabbed it before him, he could have it. So, Leroy put his can on the ground and counted 1, 2, 3, and they both were reaching for the beer, but Little Man, being fast as a cat, swooped it up first, and next thing you know, they in a brawl because Leroy was feeling embarrassed plus he did realize that his beer was gone, so he turned it into a fight because he was trying to tackle Little Man; but fore you know it, Little Man picked Leroy up off his feet and body slammed him on the ground. Now, wasn’t that some BS? You get your behind kicked and lose your beer at the same time just because you were dumb enough to challenge another dude. Leroy was also embarrassed because Little Man was much smaller than him, but you would never know what just happened. So now he had to try to save face.
Shortly, Leroy went to the trunk of his car and grabbed a metal crowbar used to change tires. He looked at us from the trunk of his car and realized that he had messed up because we all knew he made the challenge and lost, and now he is trying to turn it into something bigger than it was rather than just taking his whipping like a grown man should. I could even see some tears in his eyes. He was looking like, “What did I just get myself into?” Five minutes ago, he was buying himself a new can of beer, and now he had no beer to go along with an unnecessary A-whipping. It gets no lower than that, but that’s how it is in the big DS sometimes.
Finally, Leroy returned and rejoined us, even though he was embarrassed. Little Man had gulped down that free beer and was on to other things. Little Man has been in so many fights in his days that he doesn’t even think twice about what happened. I always thought that if Little Man had continued his schooling past the third grade, he probably would have been a good running back in high school football because he was so quick on his feet and strong as a bull. He did everything on instinct, just like an animal. He beat up many men who underestimated him. He drove tractors in the 2nd grade and helped his daddy on this White man’s farm. His daddy and mother didn’t set a good example because they were out in the street every weekend, drinking and fighting whoever crossed them the wrong way. By the time Little Man was 12, he had left home for someplace in North Carolina, working on farms up there. He has been back in the big DS in the last several years, and rumor has it that he killed three people before he headed back home, one of them who had the nerve to not pay him his five dollars back on time.
We continued drinking, eating, and horsing for several hours. Later, this White girl named Colleen comes around because she likes to hang out at Big George Juke joint. She doesn’t live too far from Davis Station, and she has been acting like she is Black all her life. I think she’s sweet on me, but she keeps saying I’m too young. I keep telling her I have plenty of experience, though. She gives me that seductive smile and turns away. She is the only white girl we know who speaks to Black people equally. She knows everybody’s name and even strings tobacco like the rest of the Black women. Whenever a car with White people drives past and sees her talking to Black people, I know they are wondering why she is stooping so low, but she is having a good time. If she is driving her car and sees a Black person walking down the street, she would stop and give them a ride. We all like her as a person because she is kind-hearted. She says she only likes Black music, so that is why she is hanging out at the Black establishments. She even likes catfish stew, and the fellas don’t mind sharing some with her cause they think they might get a little favor in return later on, but I don’t think anything ever happened. She can be a teaser, getting our hopes higher than they should be.
So that was why the next morning, when my mom woke me up saying that the Police were outside and they wanted to talk to me, I was not so surprised. Colleen was such a good girl, and things should not have turned out as they did for her. They asked me what I knew about Little Man, and I told them all I knew, including some alleged rape he was bragging about a few months ago. They said to me that Colleen was found dead in the back seat of her car in a wooded area not too far from Big George Juke joint. It appeared that she had been raped first. I told them I had seen her at the club for a while but didn’t know when she left. I told them I left around 11 and came home to my bed.
Little Man was arrested, but he kept saying he didn’t have anything to do with it. The all-White Jury convicted him anyway, mainly because of his rap sheet and all of the other allegations. He was given a life sentence but wound up only serving 20 years before he got out. When he got out, He seemed to be a changed man and had become so religious, carrying his Bible everywhere and always going to church. Every time I see him, I always feel sorry for him. He was never given a chance from the time he was born. Whenever I see him, I can’t seem to look him in the eye, though.
Over the years, many things have changed. Big George Juke joint is standing but is only a shell of its former self. Leroy moved to Miami and was killed in a car accident. People don’t know where Albert is. Bono still hangs around.
I graduated from High School and then enlisted in the Army. I spent 30 years in the Army and finally retired in 2005 as a Master Sergeant. I married a German woman, but we divorced after 15 years, and she took our two kids back to Germany with her. I never got married again because women always cause problems, and sometimes, I would just rather be myself. Now that I have retired, I have returned to Davis Station.
When my German wife was about to leave, I didn’t try to stop her. I understood. She said she couldn’t deal with those nightmares I kept having, when I kept waking up night after night, screaming and saying:
“‘I’m sorry, Colleen, I didn’t mean to do it; it was only an accident!”
MSG. John Franklin Smith (Retired)
June 2010
Written by Jerome Pearson
