By Sarah Blizzard Robinson

Russell Harbison is a local certified fishmonger. He gladly sells his fresh catches, but his stories are free. Every Wednesday between 12:00 noon and 2:00 PM,  he's set up behind Popeye’s in Daphne; the gregarious salesman wears a silver sailor’s whistle around his neck that almost fills his large hand. The significance of the whistle is yet to be determined. Maybe he’s calling for customers, or just letting folks know where he is. Thanks to my knowledgeable friend Paula, I found the salesman “Just call me Russell” Harbison without any trouble.

Sitting on the open bed of his truck, leaning against his tailgate, Russell looks relaxed. He has only slightly enough room since his coolers fill the truck bed. It’s what’s inside the coolers that he’s become known for. 

“Whatcha need?” he asks. This is my third trip to buy the delectable offerings. The opportunity to catch him is somewhat slim with his tight hours, and I know to bring cash. The salesman doesn’t take credit cards and will also tell you he doesn’t send any text messages, but you can certainly call him in case you need to place an order. 

Phone: 251-656-2838 or 251-366-5674 or 251-487-3563.

Before we get to my order, I ask him if he’s up for an interview. I already know the outgoing Bayou La Batre native has tales to tell. “My family has been in the fish business for 200 years,” he says. “They were all so rough, if they couldn’t find anybody to fight with, they fought each other.” Russell never meets a stranger and has sold seafood out of the back of his truck from the Eastern Shore, Mobile, and Pascagoula to Gulfport and beyond. When my husband, who accompanies me, admires Russell’s close-cut beard, Russell tells him how he and his barbers along the coast have a deal. “I bring them fresh shrimp and they keep me looking sharp.” When he starts chatting about selling to customers at the jailhouse, knocking on doors, and all of the dealerships he’s sold fresh seafood to, my husband, a former car dealer in Pascagoula for twenty years, chimes in.

“Ever sold fish to the old Jim Robinson dealership?” 

“For sure, I know all those guys,” Russell says. “You know him, you know Jim Robinson?” 

“I am him,” my husband says. Lots of laughs and an unexpected bear hug from Russell put us all in a good mood, with warm memories of living in South Mississippi.

A line has begun to form behind us, so we get down to business.    

“Let me have some shrimp, oysters, crabmeat, and red snapper,” I say. I don’t normally purchase the gamut, but in my defense, it was the holiday season, and I had plans to serve eleven people for several days at a beach house in Gulf Shores. I know from experience how fresh this seafood is. The red snapper is flash-frozen; the iced-down shrimp and crabmeat will freeze well. 

“You want jumbo white lump or claw meat?” Russell wants to be sure you know what you’re getting. I choose the latter for adding to gumbo. He adds up the prices in his head. When I tell him what I plan to cook, he says, “After the holidays, I’ll be really busy. Everybody’s gonna be sick of turkey!”  

Several varieties of shrimp (all de-headed) are available in 5# bags. On any given Wednesday between 12:00 and 2:00, you may be waiting in line.

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