Introduction
The catfish is a plenty good enough fish for anyone.
—Mark Twain
A man ambled along Colfax’s Oakland Street toward the center of town.
He needn’t be closer than two blocks from view for anyone to know who
was approaching in the late afternoon sunlight. A powerful hulk of a man—always
walking with his shoulders hunched slightly forward, he was dressed in a bright
white uniform so heavily starched one wondered how the man could move at all.
But it was the uniform he’d worn almost every afternoon for nearly fifty
years. Most afternoons he walked at a brisk pace, an energetic gait of someone
who was about to go on stage to perform—and most who knew him considered him
a virtuoso performer. But this late afternoon of April 15, 1995, his stride
was shorter, slower. He had tried for days to not dwell on this afternoon’s
stroll—the last he would ever take as the owner of Miller’s Restaurant.
James L. Miller and his son and co-owner, Mike, had made the decision that
their business of nearly fifty years should be sold. This afternoon was the
beginning of the last day the Miller family was to own a business that had
defined their lives and the reputation of the small farm town of Colfax, Indiana.
It was a difficult decision, but one that had to be made. Even when the details
of the sale were being worked out, it didn’t really register that this
last walk would be only a few weeks away. James L. Miller paused in front of
Wright’s Hardware Store at the corner of Oakland and Franklin to peer
across the street and take one last panoramic view of his business—a business
that would belong to someone else on Monday.
It took only seconds to distill the memories that had accumulated since the
late October evening in 1946 when he first showed his young wife, Mary Ellen,
what was to be their new livelihood. He allowed a faint smile to spread across
his face when he remembered her reaction to the smoke-filled beer hall and
the shocking event that had unfolded as they pulled up to the side of the building.
Yet, just as she had done in the first years of their marriage, she followed
him toward his dream—a dream that came true in the little town of Colfax.
The town of Colfax, Indiana has a land area of one-third square mile, about
two hundred and twelve acres. It has never been populated by more than 850 citizens
at any time in its history. For those wondering what Colfax might be close to,
the answer is simple: the only place it’s close to is the ground. The
state capitol of Indianapolis is forty miles away (as the crow flies) and Lafayette
is nearly twenty miles to the northwest. If the retail mantra of “location,
location, location” is true, then the story of Miller’s Restaurant
becomes quite implausible.
The story of Miller’s begins in 1946 when a young man took the plunge
and bought a business that had, for the most part, been nothing more than a
raucous beer joint that would have fit comfortably in a scene from the Old
West. Through a combination of talent, excruciating hard work, experimentation,
and some luck, Miller’s grew to become one of the most famous dining establishments
in the history of Indiana. What follows is the story of Miller’s Restaurant
and how it built its reputation throughout the United States and several foreign
countries. While there are a number of restaurants throughout Indiana that have
enjoyed widespread recognition in Indiana and the Midwest, few can claim the
nationwide reputation that Miller’s built during its nearly fifty years
of ownership by the Miller family of Colfax.
The story of Miller’s Fish Suppers is more than just a story of good
food and service; it’s a story of a community—a community that was, early
on, uncertain it wanted this young couple and, what was then, their tavern.
Not many years passed before the community discovered it was becoming as famous
as the fish suppers being served at the corner of Railroad and Oakland streets.
Most small towns spend their days in quiet obscurity. Colfax was far from obscure.
In the period spanning from October 1946 to April 1995, nearly five million
people found their way to Colfax and over fifteen million catfish sacrificed
their lives to satisfy the cravings of those who made the trip. This fish story
is, in the parlance of the town liar’s bench, a real “whopper”.
The only difference is—this “whopper” is true.