From left, Si, Jase, Phil and willie say they grew their famous beards for warmth and camouflage during duck season.
(3 of 3)
The family still goes hunting and fishing together--for food and for souls. The night before our breakfast, the whole clan assembled for a fundraiser for a local Christian school. They piled into a church bus and headed across Monroe (pop. 50,000), accompanied by seven police cars, to the swank Bayou DeSiard Country Club, where guests paid $250 each to stand in line for an hour and get a photo with a bearded guy in camo. After that, the entourage put on a rousing variety show--revival meeting, topped off by a sermon from Phil. He talks about Jesus whether he's in a church, in a casino or at a gun expo. "To [the producers] my faith is amusing," he says with a smile. "I'm enough of a realist to know it's not going on the show."
The Robertsons may look like hillbillies, but they are no fools. Phil has a patent on his duck call. According to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, there are 2.6 million waterfowl hunters in the U.S. Last year, Duck Commander sold 185,000 duck calls. The outlet store that adjoins the factory is so busy that on Fridays and Saturdays, an off-duty deputy sheriff swings by to keep things orderly. And Phil is not the only would-be best-selling author in the family: Willie and his wife Korie have written a book, and Si and Miss Kay have titles coming out, all published by a company started by Korie's parents, the Howards, that is now owned by Simon & Schuster. This is a family that prays together and gets paid together. They're holding out for more money for next season. A&E's chances of prevailing are about the same as a duck's over West Monroe in December.
In person, the Robertsons are more devout and sophisticated than on TV. For a hunter who sleeps with a shotgun in reach, Phil has a surprisingly nuanced view of gun control. He believes that any attempt to limit weapons limits basic freedoms and that "it's the hearts of human beings that are the problem," not guns. But he does note quietly, almost as an aside, that "it just seems to me that a man wouldn't quite need the firepower people possess." The gun cupboard in his living room is empty. Too many guests, Alan explains.
The family's biggest challenge is retaining the appealing down-to-earth togetherness it forged through thick and thin now that times are lusciously thick. Their weapons against the beguilements of Mammon include church, family occasions like the Christian-school fundraiser and lots of hunting. "We have nicer camo and nicer shotguns now, but hunting is hunting," Alan says. "That hasn't changed in 100 years."
Phil is more wary. His second-favorite group of authors, the Founding Fathers, worried about the corruptive power of wealth, and so does he. "My own children in some ways are a culture shock," he says. "Miss Kay and I, there's not but two of us. We don't need a bigger house. But I notice my kids--they built bigger houses. Why would you need that much floor space and that many bathrooms? They probably didn't take the advice of the old patriarch." Not until hunting season at least.