Abe Whitfield, who with his wife Terri turned a spot off Highway 72 East into one of the most beloved restaurants in the Mid-South, died Saturday, Sept. 12, 2026, at Magnolia Regional Health Center after a brief illness. He was 77.
He was born in Corinth on Nov. 29, 1948, and in the ways that mattered, he never left. He gave his life to Christ as a young man and was a member of Oakland Baptist Church, and that faith showed up everywhere — in the way he ran his kitchen, in the way he treated his people, in the way he treated a stranger at the door.
He was 14 years old when he went to work at Jack n’ Jill in 1962, and the restaurant business got hold of him early. He worked his way along Highway 72, listening to mentors, quietly building the skills that would one day make him an owner and a chef in his own right. Somewhere in those years, during a shift at Sherrah’s — Sherer’s Burgers & Shakes — he met a young woman named Terri Lynn Oaks. They married in 1972. On March 11, 1974, less than two years later, they opened the doors of Abe’s Grill.
The rest is the kind of history measured in regulars, not years. Ryan arrived in 1976. Abbey — her daddy’s joy — in 1978. Fifty-four years of marriage. Fifty-two years working side by side with his wife. Twenty years with his son beside him at the grill. A full life, by any honest measure.
He worked hard so his family could collect memories — road trips from coast to coast, Florida sunsets on the beach, dinner at Capt. Anderson’s by the dockside window, unplanned escapes to Key West for a wedding anniversary. Closer to home, he loved riding around Corinth, talking, having breakfast with his early-morning friends, telling anybody who’d listen how much he loved this town and how pretty the drive is on Highway 72 from Memphis to Chattanooga.
And then there were the biscuits. There is no real debate about it: the biscuits at Abe’s Grill are among the finest anywhere. Light, fluffy, perfect alongside a piece of tenderloin or buried under sawmill gravy. The signs call them “The Mid-South’s Favorite Homemade Biscuits,” and the generations who have filled that dining room for 52 years would be the first to agree. Every one of them was made with Martha White flour, baked by co-owner Terri Whitfield.
Ask anybody in Corinth about Mr. Abe and sooner or later you’ll hear some version of the same story: he never met a stranger.
About twenty years ago, I was having breakfast at Abe’s when a man walked up off the highway — one of the many drifters and down-on-their-luck travelers who pass through a town sitting at the crossroads of Highways 72 and 45. He asked Mr. Abe if he had anything to eat.
He did. A burger and fries, a drink, fixed without hesitation and sent outside with the man’s thanks. I asked Abe afterward if he knew him. He didn’t. That wasn’t the point. If somebody showed up hungry, he fed them — and he told me the tip money folks left by the register helped him do it.
I started leaving a few dollars in that tip cup every time I ate there after that. I wasn’t the only one. But here’s what I’m certain of: even if nobody had ever left a dime, Abe Whitfield would have kept feeding hungry people anyway.
Mr. Abe and Mrs. Terri built a wonderful business on the side of that highway by treating every single person who walked in like they were thrilled over the moon to see them. All the success, all the friends made over all those years — every bit of it traces back to that.
I’ve been eating at Abe’s for 25 years. For a stretch, one of my businesses did its banking in Corinth, and if I’m honest, the main reason I kept it there was to give myself an excuse to get to Abe’s.
He was my friend.
We both drove a Cadillac SRX, and he never failed to ask about mine — or about Kayla and Ava Raye. The morning Kayla went to the hospital to have our daughter, we stopped at Abe’s first for breakfast. Biscuits and gravy, over-medium eggs, tenderloin — the last meal mother and daughter shared as one. He asked about Ava just last month. When I told him her age, he shook his head and said it seemed like yesterday she was in that high chair. It does seem like yesterday.
I’ll miss walking in and hearing him tell me they fixed a “mud flap” of country ham just for me.
Kayla remembers that long-ago morning the same way I do — nine months pregnant, full of nerves and excitement, and two people who made her feel like she was sharing breakfast in their own home, promising they were praying for a safe delivery. A year or so later we brought Ava back with us, and she’s been back many times since. They always remembered us. They always asked how old she is now, and we never could believe how much time had flown. She’ll always remember his kindness, and she’s praying the community surrounds this family with love and support.
Above all, Abe loved his family, and he made sure they enjoyed a very good, wonderful life.
Mr. Whitfield was preceded in death by his parents, James Otis Whitfield and Essie Dee Wroten Whitfield; his brothers Billie Whitfield, Jack Whitfield and James Whitfield; and a nephew, Randy Whitfield.
He is survived by his wife of 54 years, Terri Lynn Oaks Whitfield; a son, Ryan Abie Whitfield (Melody); and a daughter, Abbey DeeLynn Whitfield, both of Corinth.
Magnolia Funeral Home is assisting the family with arrangements. The service will be held at Oakland Baptist Church on Saturday, September 19, 2026. Visitation is 1:00-3:00 p.m., and the memorial service begins at 3:00 p.m.
Instead of flowers, the family kindly requests that memorial donations be made to Oakland Baptist Church, First Baptist Church-Corinth, or St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.
Corinth lost something Saturday that can’t be replaced — a man who treated every stranger like a friend, and every friend like family.
