“It was the worst day of my life,” says Larry Murphy. “One of the early cooks called me at home at 6:30 in the morning: ‘Mr. Murphy, we just got here and there’s no water. A plumber’s already working on it. He says the six-inch main pipe buried back of the swimming pool busted. It’s floodin’ the yard’.”

The day was Sunday. She called from the Palmetto Restaurant in the Quality Inn where Larry is food and beverage manager. He gave a full groan on the phone. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

Actually it took about 15, because he lives off the North Road. On driving in, he spied the water gushing up from the ground and flooding the yard. Rushing to the men digging down to the big pipe, he asked, “How long will it be?” and was answered by the head plumber, ‘It’s goner take five or six hours. These pipes that go into each building musta been put in over 20 years ago; none of them has a cutoff into the main line.”

Larry’s spirits plunged. “You mean there’s no water for the kitchen or for any of the rooms?”

“No, Sir.”

“But I have to have it; nearly 400 people will start coming for Sunday dinner at 11 o’clock.”

The plumber thought a moment. “I reckon you’ll just have to call it off.”

Melt down the ice

Larry voiced an oath followed by a storm of protest and pleading. The man asked for a few minutes to see what he could do. Larry rushed back to the kitchen where a half-dozen cooks and assistants awaited his word. No water to make 35 gallons of tea, or cook 30 pounds of frozen shoe peg corn or 40 of tiny butter beans. Even worse, none to wash fruit and vegetables for the salad bar, OR, flush toilets in the restrooms.

With a flash of inspiration from years of experience, Larry ordered the cooks to haul out half the cracked ice in the refrigerators, fill up the big aluminum pots on the stove and melt it down. Soon there was cooking water. Finally the plumber agreed to turn on enough to give them three hours for cooking dinner, but none for the rooms or restrooms. That would flood the entire area.

Larry agreed; the help started hustling. Three hours later, the first diners arrived, increasing, increasing, then doubling. All the food awaited. Larry and the five waitresses went into a well-practiced rush to get everyone seated, served a drink, then clear away like crazy.

The diners seemed to enjoy every moment, but quite a few hurried home the moment after their last glass of tea. By 2 p.m., all tables stood empty, and the plumbers had cut off the water again. Meanwhile, thousands of gallons of treated Edisto River water had gushed out over the grass, then flowed down the slope a few yards away.

This stands as ordeal No. 1 of Larry’s four years at the Palmetto. “We’re used to rush and tension on our big dinner days,” he says, “but it’s an organized and controlled routine.”

810 pieces of chicken

“My longtime cooks, Lorrain Patterson, Nora Jones and Viola Bonaparte, faithfully arrive at 6:30 every Sunday morning and begin preparing the vegetables, frozen collards, okra, string beans, etc., also giant-sized macaroni casseroles. Soon, one of our two preparation cooks, Barbara Harris or Jonia Bonaparte, starts frying 810 pieces of chicken. Whichever is on duty will stand and fry four hours because nearly everybody takes a piece .... some three pieces.”

Larry’s week-ahead planned menu will also include 60 pounds of Black Oak Ham (“not too salty”) and 60 pounds of pot roast. These are roasting away by 8 a.m.

Five waitresses come in at 9:30, haul out a case (24 heads) of lettuce plus boxes of tomatoes, broccoli, radishes, bell pepper, baby carrots, cucumbers and fresh mushrooms, slicing and breaking them to salad size. They toss up 40 pounds of teensy popcorn shrimp salad, and quarts of grated carrots into another. One other is made back in the kitchen with 50 pounds of fresh boiled potatoes, a standard because every single Orangeburger loves potato salad, Larry says.

Once arranged on the bar, these look like a Technicolor display.

Next, the waitresses set up the dessert bar. First on the list is a chaffing dish of apple or peach cobbler, also made in the kitchen. Oh, sure, ice cream at the side. This is only a starter. Slices of cake – coconut, red velvet or German chocolate – will jump into every diner’s eye and reach for his/her stomach. Pies too! Banana creme, cherry and lemon stab the “sweet tooths” in the line.

The Palmetto bakes some; others are ovened by old Sara Lee.

Every religion; every appetite

A trickle of diners starts right at 11. By 12:30 a hundred and fifty stand in the line all the way out to the hallway. Fortunately, the hot bar is open on both sides and moves them fast. This is the big, just-out-of-church hour. It includes Baptist to Catholics, Episcopalians, the fundamentalists from O’burg to Bowman, Neeses and Sandy Run.

After an average 30 minutes of consuming, very few linger long. Happy and satiated, they head for their autos and home. By closing time at 2, only a handful are enjoying their last swallows of tea.

The kitchen staff scrubs all the big oven trays, cooking pots and work tables. The dishwashers run the last white china cups and plates; the waitresses set up the tables for Monday.

By 3, Larry and the staff have lunched together, and he is headed for home. In no time, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, he is stretching long in his favorite recliner, and watching NASCAR races to his heart’s delight.

Retired editor and public relations executive Thomas Langford’s column is titled “Some Edisto Stories.” Let him know if you have stories to share: 803-534-2097.

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