Page from the Past: The Last of the Big Ones
By T.P. Coffin and Henig Cohen
In their 1973 book “Folklore from the Working Folk of America,” T.P. Coffin and Henig Cohen recount a vivid catfish tale from Robert Wolfender of Etowah, Tennessee. Set in 1945 along the Cumberland River, this story paints a nostalgic picture of catfishing in a time gone by, when “the grandaddy of them all” still swam the river’s waters.
Wolfender, fresh from a day of fishing with only a 4-pounder to show for his efforts, encounters an older angler on the trail. As they pass, the older man remarks, “That’s a pretty small fish to what they used to be.” Curiosity getting the better of him, Wolfender asks the old man about the biggest catfish he’d ever seen taken from the river. The old-timer smiles, spits a mouthful of tobacco juice into the Cumberland and spins a tale that’s a mix of pride, reverence and regret.
“Back when thar war steamboats on the Cumberland, thar was an old catfish that war suppose’ to be a whopper. He broke trotlines and jerked cane poles right out of people’s hands. There was one young buck that tried to grapple him by tyin’ a rope through his gills, but that old cat carried him a mile down the river ‘fore he could let loose of him. Yes sir, that fish was the grandaddy of them all.
“Wal, finally my pappy forged a hook out of an old broken plowshare, then he tied it to a two-inch Manilla line and hitched the old mule to the other end. Then he cut a ham in two and used half of it for bait. It took pappy two days ‘fore he hooked that old cat, but when he did it shore was a sight. Finally, between pappy and the old mule, they drug that old cat out of the water, and it was said the river went down one inch.”
With a wistful look, the old man continues, sharing a moment that left an impression on him to this day.
“Wal, pappy just looked at that big old fish alaying there on the bank adyin’, and he looked plum sad insted of glad. In a minit, without sayin’ a word, he takes his pocket knife and cuts that line and he tells me to help him push that old cat back into the river. I was supprised but I know better than to talk back to my pappy, so we pushed that big old fish back into the river.
“Pappy set down a spell then and lit his pipe. I reckon it was an hour before he spoke. When he did, he said, ‘Boy that was the last of the big ones, that was the grandaddy of them all.’ Then he said sort of quietlike, ‘A man aint got no right to kill somethin’ as big and brave as that thar old catfish.’ Wal, from then on fishin’ just wasn’t the same fer me.”
This tale captures a sense of respect for nature and a kind of wisdom often found among seasoned fishermen. While Wolfender and the old man part ways, the story lingers, reminding us that sometimes it’s not the size of the catch, but the reverence for the river’s mysteries, that leaves the lasting mark.
