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I normally wouldn’t just cold call a stranger and ask if I can come by for a chat, but I felt that with the two semi-truck trailers questioning me with their “Do you know Big Frank?” banners flying across them, Big Frank Shuler was practically begging me to meet him.
So when I accepted his indirect invitation and called him, I was not surprised by his warm welcome. When I told him I was new to town and felt left out of the “Yes, I know Big Frank” fan club, he invited me over to his office as if I was an old friend. And as a person who perpetually feels left out of the cool kids’ sandboxes, I got excited.
His office sits next to Monte Alban Mexican Restaurante in Murphy, which relieved me. Monte Alban is one of the few local landmarks I can locate without my GPS in constant reroute mode. I occasionally go in there for a glass of white wine, and they always smile largely as they let me pretend I can speak Spanish. Quiero un vaso blanco pretty much completes my lexicon, but I usually end up having to order in English anyway because my pronunciation baffles the waiters.
However, I didn’t actually need this familiar building to locate Big Frank’s because the front of Frank’s office suite proudly announces that Big Frank is inside, with that same white banner and enormous red letters that led me here in the first place. In a catastrophe, his office would make an excellent rendezvous point, as his sign lacks the subtly that can lead to confusion. If you are told to meet at Big Frank’s, simply follow the breadcrumbs of red-lettered signs and you’ve made it.
I was ushered to a cozy waiting area complete with an electric fireplace and a soothing waterfall cascading down from a giant television. Big Frank, it appeared, did nothing in half measures. He appeared with such stealth that I actually jumped and screamed a little when he appeared in his long-sleeved bright (you guessed it) red shirt.
Big Frank told me I wasn’t the first newcomer to seek him out. He said those who take the effort to meet him receive a prize. This had me interested. I hoped it was a coupon for a glass of white wine from Monte Alban.
“Why are you called Big Frank?” I asked him as the hundreds who travelled before me must have asked. “I didn’t like ‘Tiny,’ ” he said, laughing. At 6 feet-4 inches tall and weighing 320 pounds, the joke was pretty funny.
His life matches his size. It’s a big life, including a stint as an actor in some Coca-Cola commercials and minor roles in films he wouldn’t name. He grows his own vegetables, and it’s no surprise his favorite is the red tomato.
“I like to watch them climb,” he said in that soothing radio voice of his.
He’s in a big love affair with his wife of 15 years. I asked him the secret to a good marriage, and he jokes, “Marry Asian,” in reference to his Vietnamese wife.
He said he was drawn to her because she was “so sophisticated, educated and European.” But the one thing she isn’t is big. “She’s all of 5 foot and 110 pounds,” he told me as if it was an accomplishment.
As he is obviously big in stature and bold in business, as evidenced by the semi-truck banners, I asked him what was small about him. He yelled out to his office manager, “Hey, what am I humble about?” to which she quipped, “I haven’t known you long enough to see that side of you yet.” We all laughed, largely, of course, because Big Frank has that kind of influence.
If he were serving chocolate cake, I would feel emboldened to ask for the biggest slice. He’s the kind of guy who makes you believe anything is possible. But he did smile the whole time, which made the skeptic in me wonder what was behind that smile.
Was he a secret road-rager or fist-through-the-drywall kind of guy? Unlikely. He told me his favorite thing to do was to make his own spicy barbecue sauce, throw wood on his backyard fire pit and invite over friends and neighbors. This guy is so genuine I’m expecting an invitation to the next bonfire any day now.
Big Frank’s philosophy in life is “It all works out either good, or bad so there is no sense worrying over it.”
I noticed his business phone lines were lighting up, possibly with other Murphy newbies who gladly accepted his hand of friendship.
He had big plans for the day, so it was time for me to go back to my small life. He walked me to the door and, as promised, handed me some Big Frank swag.
I’m not trying to make you jealous or anything, but I now own a Swiss army knife that says “Yes, I know Big Frank.” It’s kind of a big deal.
Abigail Hickman is a staff correspondent for the Cherokee Scout. Email abigailhickman44@gmail.com.