Southern Fried Lies
Nothing holds Southern families and friends together like a good story. The wilder, the better. Some are completely true while others have been embellished slightly. In other words, the stories have been laid out, battered and fried, Southern style.
Jerry Clower, “The Mouth of Mississippi” became a millionaire through his story telling. I know them all from “Knock him out John” to the “Coon hunting monkey.” I know about Della the mule, all the Ledbetters and his first bannaner he ever et.
He and Marcel Ledbetter had never seen a banana or nanner as he called them. They were each given one as they boarded the train, the Panama Limited, on the way to New Orleans. Just as they were about to pass through a tunnel, Marcel grabbed his nanner and took a big bite. Of course, it was pitch dark in the tunnel. A few minutes later, they came out on the other side of the tunnel.
Marcel yelled out: “Jerry: have you et your nanner yet?” Jerry said: “No I haven’t. Why?” Marcel said: “Don’t eat it. I took one bite from mine and went stone blind.”
Jerry Clower told this Southern fried story many times from the stage of the Grand Ole Opry.
During the fifties, there was an old man and his wife who lived on LaGrange Mountain, south of Leighton. His name was Wormy Screws. His wife was named Gertie but she went by “Soap” since she was known for her skill at making lye soap. Soap was close to 6 feet tall while Wormy threatened to sue the county one time for building the sidewalks too close to his butt. Wormy was known to sneak off in the woods where Burly Smith had his moonshine still. Sometime, when he “helped” Burley with his still, he would do more sampling than working. It was known as “getting his head charged.”
One day in late January, it was freezing cold on the mountain. When Wormy started making his way back home from Burley’s, he found an old outhouse and decided to take a seat to thaw out. He passed out there while reading the few remaining pages in the Sears catalog. It gets sad here. Wormy died in that seated position with his right arm raised while he was stuffing paper between the boards to keep out the wind.
Soap got concerned when Wormy didn’t come home so she sent a search party for him. Nobody wanted to get near Burley’s still since they knew it was booby-trapped with hidden wires attached to loaded 12-gauge shotguns. Soap’s sister, Tink, stumbled across the old outhouse and there sat Wormy, frozen to death. Stiff as a board in the seated position with his right arm up.
The coroner, Hoot Qwlsley, decided to just load Wormy in the front seat of the hearse in the same frozen position. Hoot buckled Wormy in his seat and proceeded down the mountain. When Hoot and Wormy passed through Leighton on the way to the funeral home, people all along Main Street kept waving back at Wormy in the passenger seat.
Tuscumbia Lumber Works was hired to make a special pine box with a seat in it for ole Wormy. He was buried next to the railroad in Sheffield and word was that when he finally thawed out in the spring, the corn squeezings in his system killed all the grass within 50 feet of his grave. The cucumbers in the nearby garden didn’t even have to be pickled before going in the jars.
I had heard the story about a frozen pond near Selma where I was born, long before the movie “Fried Green Tomatoes” used it. Near Marion Junction, there was a shallow catfish pond near my grandma’s where many of the locals would duck hunt. One time, the pond was covered with Mallards when the temperature dropped so quick that the water froze with the ducks still sitting on it.
When Joe Frank Moore crossed a 4-strand bob war fence, he saw all the ducks there, took out his duck call and they all responded at the same time. The ducks flew off, taking the frozen pond with them. Supposedly, they didn’t land until they got to Lowndes County. When the pond thawed, it became the first commercial catfish pond in Hayneville.
Years ago, Charles “Humpy” Campbell would go down to Limekiln and fish for crappie, without a license. One afternoon, he had a half dozen crappies in a bucket when the game warden drove up. The game warden asked Humpy for his fishing license. Hump said he wasn’t fishing. He said that those were his pet fish and each afternoon, he brought them to the slough just to swim around for exercise.
The Warden said: “Humpy, you are crazy and lying at the same time. You caught all those fish without a license. I’m not stupid. Those ain’t pet fish.” Humpy said they most certainly are.” The Warden said: “OK. Prove it.” Big Hump dumped the fish in the slough. The Game Warden said: “Ok, Humpy. I knew those weren’t pet fish. Call them back in.”
Humpy asked, “what fish?” Never question a man whose last name is Campbell who goes by the name of Humpy.
Around Leighton, the Figg family was never known for their looks. One time, Russ Figg stole a shoat, a baby pig, from a local farmer. His sister, Gussie was riding in the front seat. James Griffin, the police chief, got word that the Figgs were passing through town so he and Rayford South pulled them over. Gussie took her bonnet and put it on the shoat and sat him up between them.
When Chief Griffin asked who that in the middle was, Gussied elbowed the pig and he grunted. She did it again and the shoat grunted again. They let them off. When James and Rayford got back to the police car, Chief said: “I tell you all of the Figgs look just alike but that Oink Figg in the middle is a spitting image of her Daddy.”
Everything is better if it’s fried.Southern fried to be exact.