Direct from the biography A Mississippi Man: Glynn Arlin Mallette
Pages from the life story of Glynn Arlin Mallette who grew up on the Mississippi Coast. Born poor, as poor as a man can be... and with hard work went on to great success. This is his story. Available on paperback and hardcover from Amazon.com - BUY BOOK HERE
PAGES FROM THE BOOK------------
“I could never become so rich that
I would forget what it’s like to
be poor.”
Glynn Arlin Mallette
A Mississippi Man – The Glynn Mallette Story
“You can’t imagine how poor we were.”
“I’ve seen times when there was nothing to eat…”
“At one point there were 56 of us in this family, my Grandpa and everyone. Now, I’m the last one.”
“We worked, worked, worked--- if we didn’t work, we didn’t eat.”
“We’d take an axe and hit the hog in the head. Take a damn knife shove it right in there and bleed it out.”
“The time I met Elvis Presley, I have pictures to prove all that.”
“Running a business, someone has to be the son of a bitch.”
“I put my business before my family. And, that is my biggest regret.”
A Mississippi Man
The Glynn Mallette Story
A book by John B. Dolan
A Mississippi Man
The Glynn Mallette Story
A Mississippi Man
It was late in 2024 when I sat down with Glynn Mallette at his spacious 6000 square-foot home on his compound in Old Fort Bayou Mississippi. We spent several engaging days discussing his memories, sharing family stories and even took the time to enjoy some tasty fresh crab chowder that he cooked for us. Turns out Glynn was a fine chef and enjoyed cooking for his family and friends. We drank his favorite wine, listened to classic music that included Elvis, Frank Sinatra and his favorite Ray Price. The hours passed pleasantly as we casually got to know each other.
I present Glynn’s story mostly in his own words.
Born: December 25, 1938
His Words
Really the first thing I remember, I was about three years old, I remember my Momma carrying a blue plate about that big around to my Daddy’s bed and feeding him. And then, the next thing I remember my Momma holding me in her arms and looking at my Daddy in the casket.
I guess the next thing was I started school when I was five years old and went to school for thirteen years. I went to school for thirteen years and did not miss a day, I am proud to say that. Also my oldest son went twelve years--- and he never missed a day. I never was sick and I don’t know why. We all drank out of the same water well.
Hell, in the winter I’d go barefoot all the time. I had tough feet because I went barefoot back then. Now I can’t walk out in the yard without shoes.
And, getting back to my roots here we had chickens, we had hogs, we had cows and we had horses. Still we were very poor people--- as poor as you want to get.
We used kerosene lamps. We used them to walk from room to room and if you turned them up too much the glow would turn the lamp black. Then you couldn’t see anything.
Whatever we would eat that night she, Momma, would put away safe. We boys each had a gallon bucket and a food spoon, all us boys we’d take that to school. It would be beans and greens, a piece of corn bread and maybe a biscuit in there. We’d hang that bucket so the ants could not get to it.
She would sell the chicken eggs to buy feed, and Momma made our shirts out of the feed sacks. It was what we had feed sacks, and later on they had feed sacks with red flowers and blues flowers. I had two pair of overalls--- I remember her patching them for the third time. This was when I was a kid.
You can’t image how poor we were.
I never heard my Momma curse. Never. Now, she’d take that switch and beat my ass. I’m glad for every whooping I got. But, I never heard a curse word from her.
She whopped my ass plenty, a lot. I’d fight with my brother, we’d fight like hell. He was three years older than me, but we’d fight and he’d beat my ass. But, I’d still fight him, Conrad. We kept it outside.
One time Conrad had this knife, and I told him I wanted the knife. He said, there it is. And I grabbed that knife’s blade and he jerked it back. That son of a bitch, I still have the scar today. Right there on my hand. Nearly cut off my four fingers, right across the hand. Scar right here, right here, and right here. He pulled that son of a bitch.
Me and him would fight nose to nose.
One thing my Momma always told me, always read the fine print before you sign something. Always read the fine print.
Life is short, very, very short. Of course I never thought I’d live to be twenty-one years old.
My Daddy passed away at 57 years old, when I was only three years old. He was married for fifteen years to Jane Allen Mallette.
Dad was out with a horse plowing the field and he said, “I’m going to join the army and go over and kill them Germans.” And he did. And he caught that gas in Germany during World War I. He came back and got married at forty-three years old and died at fifty-seven with five boys. If he didn’t die--- he might have had fifteen boys. Ha.
My Momma would say, my Daddy would get up at 4 o’clock in the morning, ride a horse nine miles and come back at dark for fifty cents a day.
My Daddy died when I was three years old. My Daddy, Harry, had a horrible, horrible death.
READ MORE: A Mississippi Man The Glynn Mallette Story book
Have questions for the author - john.gulfcoast@gmail.com
MORE FROM THE BOOK--------
Harry Mallette - Glynn’s Dad
Harry Mallette, son of George Lumas, was a real good man. John Webb his close neighbor was quoted as saying in a July 1996 interview, “I always said Harry was the best Mallette.”
Harry Mallette labored in the saw mill for years with his father, George Mallette. He left saw-milling to work in logging for about ten years before returning to saw-milling. The logging was hard work it was described as oxen and hand labor. The men would use the oxen to pull the logs and pile them up, then load the logs into the eight-wheeled ox wagon. They piled the logs high, as high as a ceiling.
One thunderstorm came through and six oxen were killed after being struck by lightning.
The men camped when logging and would sleep on a table dressed in a mattress of pine straw with blankets and a quilt on top. It was cold, cold weather. They cooked their own meals in the morning eating bacon and eggs to start the day.
It was a long day of labor moving those massive trees. The job had to done no matter the weather, no matter the temperature. It was tough dangerous work.
Early Days
At one point there were fifty-six of us in this family, my Grandpa and everyone. Now--- I’m the last one. I think often about my Grandma and Grandpa Mallette. Every night, every night I go to bed and say, “Good night Momma and Daddy, good night Grandma and Grandpa. I love you.”
I’m a dying breed. There aren’t a lot of people still around to talk about this.
How my Mother stayed here and took care of everybody, I don’t know. I’ve seen times when there was nothing to eat here. I’d have starved to death if I couldn’t go over to my Grandpa and Grandma’s, my first cousin’s, my Uncle’s to get something to eat. I’d have starved.
There was another man living here over the hill, his name was George Mallette, a first cousin. Uncle George was born on Valentine’s Day. He was named George Washington Mallette after the President. I’d have starved to death if not for all them.
My Grandpa lived to 87, and Grandma Mallette she died at 88. She died on Christmas Eve and they buried her on Christmas Day.
Momma raised all of us boys, four of us, in the small house with no electricity. She also took care of Annie Delancey, my Daddy’s sister. Momma had a job and worked forty-hours each week at the ER Moore Company for fifteen dollars a week.
