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His real name was John Reuben Driffy. To his face, he was
generally spoken to as Brother John or Brother Driffy. But behind his
back they referred to him in more colorful terms. Terms which usually
had something to do with his eating habits. Up in Coon Leg, Kentucky, where he started out in the
evangelization business during the late ‘20s, they called him Chicken
John. As his fame grew during the ‘30s, especially around the river
towns along the Ohio and the Tennessee, he was known as Ol’ Chicken
and Biscuits, or Ol’ Chicken and Potatoes, depending on how far north
it was. During the ‘40s and ‘50s, as he migrated further south
into North Georgia, Alabama and Sand Mountain, he got to be known as Ol’
Dry Fry. And everybody knew Ol’ Dry Fry. As a hellfire and brimstone preacher, especially when he was
under the anointing, Ol’ Dry Fry was a sight to behold. He could
preach with such power, some said, he could rattle the teeth out of the
devil’s mouth and the change right out of your pocket. If you wanted to start a church or rejuvenate your old
church and bring in new members, the best thing you could do would be to
hold a revival, and the best man you could get for that job – during
those years when he was in his prime – was Ol’ Dry Fry. Ol’ Dry Fry said once that his first congregation was made
up of the cows and sheep that he used to tend on his daddy’s farm just
below Lyerly, Georgia. "I got to where I could preach so good, the cows and
the sheep would all gather around me every time I went out to the
pasture, and just stand there wiggling their ears and looking at me in
amazement," he once said. "I ain’t saying they stopped eating or chewing their
cuds, but they came from all over the pasture and gathered around me in
a bunch, and didn’t leave until I had finished my sermon. "And I have to say that that first congregation paid
more attention than a lot of congregations I’ve had since. And gave me
more amens. Of course they could only moo and go baa, but I knew what
they meant." His first revival came by accident, or miracle, whichever
way you want to look at it. He had been hoboing around the
country,-sometimes by train and sometimes by riverboat, and a lot of
times by hitchhiking or just walking. One Sunday morning while approaching the outskirts of a
little town called Coon Leg, in Eastern Kentucky, which was just a short
dog trot from Greasy Grass and a few rabbit hops from Stinky Creek, he
came upon a little church. Actually it was a one-room, log schoolhouse which on Sundays
served as the Coon Leg Gospel Church. There were only four people inside
when Ol’ Dry Fry walked in and took a seat on the back bench. A
half-hour later there were still only the two couples and Ol’ Dry Fry,
and nobody had said a word. Finally the two men who were seated in front of the
blackboard, facing their wives and Ol’ Dry Fry, began whispering to
each other. Then one of them got up and walked to the Bible stand and
said, "Brother, would you like to testify?" That was all Ol Dry Fry needed. He stood up, closed his eyes
and imagined that he was back in his daddy’s pasture preaching to the
cows and sheep. In no time he was walking the aisles and preaching in
such a frenzy that the two men and their wives got caught up in it too
and started jumping and shouting. There was such a noise coming from that little church that
anyone passing by on the road would have thought it was full of people.
After the service, the men asked Ol’ Dry Fry if he would come back
that night, and each wanted to take him home for dinner. Ol’ Dry Fry told them that in order to be fair, he would
have dinner with one and supper with the other. And not only would he
come back and preach that night, he would be happy to hold them a
revival. "Bless God, this church needs filling and I believe the
Lord sent me here to fill it!" "Preach for us tonight and let’s see what the
Lord’s will is brother," he was told. That satisfied Ol’ Dry Fry, and that night in front of a
congregation which had grown to about 25 people, including a dozen kids,
he preached one of the most memorable sermons of his career. Before dismissing the people, the man who had first asked Ol’
Dry Fry to testify, stood up and announced that the church would be
holding a week-long revival beginning the next night, and asked Ol’
Dry Fry if he would say a word about it. "All I want to say is this," said the short,
barrel-chested preacher with the deep, resonant voice which would become
his trademark, "Tell your friends, tell your neighbors, tell your
enemies and every poor lost soul that you know, come tomorrow night and
you’ll see the biggest, knock-down and drag-out fight you ever saw! "‘It’s going to be between me and the devil, and I
can promise you this, I’m going to tan his hide and nail it to the
church wall! I’m going to turn him every which way but loose! Then
I’m going to drag him out the door by his hooves! Then I’m going to
swing him around and around and fling him all the way back to
perdition!" Noting the stunned looks on their faces and the open-mouthed
silence of the congregation, Ol’ Dry Fry – as an afterthought in the
heat of the moment – threw another log on the fire, exclaiming with a
roar, "But not before I make him tell us how he got through the
flood!" With that, a loud shout came up from the crowd and shook the
room. Everybody was filled with excitement and could hardly wait until
Monday night. The word went around the countryside that a revival was
going to be held at the Coon Leg Gospel Church and that the evangelist
holding it was going to tell how the devil made it through the flood. Ol’ Dry Fry hardly slept a wink that night, and he worried
and fretted all the next day. And he prayed for the Lord to help him.
What had made him say all that! Especially that he was going to make the
devil explain how he got through the flood! He could give the devil a
whipping with his preaching, but he had no idea how he was going to
explain how he got through the flood. He had just gotten so caught up in the excitement of
preaching his first revival, the words had leaped from his mouth before
he knew what was happening. What was he going to do! He could finesse his way through the fight with the devil by
rolling all the sermons he had given the cows and sheep together into
one big free-for-all. For after all, he had just been speaking
allegorically about fighting the devil. But those people would be
wanting to know how he got through the flood, and they didn’t look
like the kind of people that would let him out of there without the
answer. Ol’ Dry Fry prayed to the Lord for an answer right up to
church time, and then continued to pray all the way to church. The
building was packed so tight that he could hardly squeeze through the
crowd. As soon as he was seated he started praying out loud. "Bless God! Bless God! Dear, sweet Jesus! Help us Lord!
Help me Lord! Help me Lord! Sweet Jesus, help me! Shine your light on us
Lord! We need you Lord! Bless God, bless God, bless God!" He continued to pray silently through the testimonies and
the singing, until finally that long, dead silence filled the room which
meant that it was time for the preaching and every eye looked to him. The people were ready to find out how the devil made it
through the flood. They had come from miles around. Many had walked.
Others had come by horse and wagon and automobile and horseback just to
hear the secret revealed. Suddenly Ol’ Dry Fry popped up like a jack-in-the-box and
kept jumping up and down until the whole crowd was jumping and waving
their arms. "Praise God! Praise God! Praise God!" he bellowed.
"Are you happy tonight! Are you happy tonight! Ain’t the Lord
good! Ain’t the Lord good! Praise God! Praise God! Praise God!
Hallelujah! Glory be to God! Thank you Jesus! Thank you Jesus!" After awhile he settled down and began pacing the floor,
mopping his brow. "I guess I know why most of you are here. I
announced last night that I was going to tell you how the devil got
through the flood. But you know what! Praise God! That’s why I jumped
up out of my chair like I did! Praise God!" At that point he started jumping again and speaking in
tongues, bringing the crowd to it’s feet, shouting and praising the
Lord. "God whispered something in my ear! I say God whispered
in my ear! Praise God almighty! It was something that he wanted me to
tell you! You want to know what he said! I say do you want to know what
he said for me to tell you!" Voices from the crowd began calling out. "Tell us what
he said! Tell us what he said!" "Dear God! Tell us what he
said!" "Hallelujah! Precious be his name!" "Glory
hallelujah!" "He said to tell you that it’s none of your business!
It’s none of your business how the devil got through the flood! Bless
God!" The room got deathly quiet. "What you need to be
concerned about is how to keep the devil out of your heart! Can I get an
amen! Can I get an amen!" A few amens came up from the crowd. "What you need to
be concerned about is how to get through the flood to come! And that
flood won’t be of water, but of fire! How are you going to get through
that! That’s what you need to be worried about! How are you going to
make it through the fiery furnace and live to tell about it! That’s
the business at hand! That’s what you need to be worried about!" Dry Fry, sweating heavily, paused a moment and wiped his
face with his handkerchief. He had them now. The amens were coming up on
their own, thick and crowded. Some were standing with their arms
outstretched. "Bless God!" "Glory be to God!"
"Bless his holy name!" "Thank you Jesus!" they
cried. "The only thing I’m disappointed in tonight is that
the devil, that cowardly son of perdition, was too afraid to join us
here in person! It had been my full intention to pin his shoulders to
the mat and tie a knot in his tail!" That brought a roar of laughter up from the crowd. "But
ain’t that just like a chicken!" continued Ol Dry Fry, hopping up
and down and waving his Bible over his head. "When it sees that
hungry look in your eye and that double edged ax in your hand, it’ll
turn tail and run every time!" He paused while the congregation jumped to its feet
cheering, then he continued shoveling the coal. "I’m hungry tonight! Praise God! But I don’t want
no cornbread and I ain’t looking for no pintos and turnip greens! My
mind’s not on chicken tonight! I’m hungry for the word of the Lord!
I’m hungry for the Lord’s will in my life! I’m hungering and
thirsting after righteousness! Are you hungry tonight! I said are you
hungry tonight!" That pretty much brought the house down, and for the next
two hours the people in and around Coon Leg heard preaching the likes of
which no one had ever heard. At least not around Coon Leg. It was said
that a dozen men turned from whisky to Jesus that night and that a
half-dozen others received the Holy Ghost. By the end of the revival,
the Coon Leg Gospel Church had more than 50 new members and Ol’ Dry
Fry had been called to serve as the regular pastor. The congregation supplied him with a little cottage to live
in and bought him a bicycle. He never had to cook a meal. The women folk
made sure that there was always something good on his table, and it
became a competition among them to lure him to their own table. But Ol’ Dry Fry wasn’t to stay there long. He was born
to be an evangelist. That was his true calling. There is a story, which
has grown into a legend and persists to this day, regarding the last
sermon he ever preached at the Coon Leg Gospel Church. The old timers refer to it as the "Bicycle
Sermon." Apparently it had come up missing and Ol’ Dry Fry was
convinced that the culprit was a member of the congregation. Ol’ Dry Fry took as his text, the Ten Commandments, and
went down each one, laying it on thick and heavy, expecting that the
guilty party would be convicted in his heart and return the bicycle. After going through most of the list, he finally got to the
one which he hoped would bring the varmint. "Thou shalt not
steal!" he thundered, letting his eyes run over the entire
congregation until he had looked into the face of each one. "Thou
shalt not steal!" he repeated. And again his glance moved from face
to face, until he had looked into the eyes of each one. "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy
neighbor," he continued. "Thou shalt not covet thy
neighbor’s house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife…" Suddenly Ol’ Dry Fry got the dry mouth and couldn’t get
out another word. He had remembered where he had left his bicycle. (Writer’s Note: I first heard of a fictional preacher known as Ol’ Dry Fry from a traveling storyteller friend of mine, Barbara Freeman, back in the early ‘70s. Old Dry Fry liked his chicken and "everybody knew Ol’ Dry Fry," she would say. I kept the gag about remembering where he left his bicycle while reading through the Ten Commandments. The rest is pretty much made up out of whole cloth, or from a composite of men of the cloth that I heard in church growing up as a poor boy in Chattanooga. I just added some flesh to his bones and gave him a little history. |
