Larry Craig Neely

Larry Craig Neely, 70, of Robinson, IL, passed away on April 1, 2026, at Community Hospital North in Indianapolis, IN.

He was born on November 24, 1955, in Aurora, IL, to Harry & Donna (Hendrickson) Neely. He grew up in Elburn, where the Neely name had been tied to drilling for generations. Each generation passed down the knowledge and the grit, but from an early age, Larry made it clear he intended to build something of his own.

He was a worker before he was much of anything else. As a young man, he bought a truck and started hauling chemicals for agricultural businesses to make money while he was in school. At Kaneland High School, he wrestled with a fire that matched his temperament. He once recorded the fastest pin in the school's history, and the story goes that he did it with a broken pinky after his opponent made the mistake of going after it! He graduated in 1974 and went on to study business at Waubonsee Community College before heading to Chicago to work on the Deep Tunnel Project.

It wasn't long before drilling pulled him back. He landed a job selling rigs for Midway Manufacturing, and he was exceptional at it. But one of those sales in particular changed the course of his life. Larry came down to Crawford County to make sure the rigs he'd sold were being set up right, and he fell in love with the area. He had also fallen in love with Susan Blennerhassett, whom he married in 1978.

In 1980, Larry moved south with a little cash in his pocket and a closet-sized apartment with nothing in it but a twin bed. On weekends, he'd drive north to be with Susan. She wasn't exactly thrilled about the arrangement at the time, but Larry had made up his mind, and that was usually the end of the discussion. With the support of Jim Carson, who believed in him and agreed to lease him a completion rig, Larry founded L.C. Neely Drilling, Inc. He drilled wells on contract, hauled equipment, and operated leases across the area. By 1984, he had founded Maverick Energy, Inc., a name whose meaning said everything about the man who built it.

And that's what Larry did. He owned and operated his own wells and drilled and completed hundreds more over four decades of work. He loved the oil and gas business the way most men love a hobby. For Larry, it was never a job. It was a lifestyle, something that ran in his blood as surely as it had for the four generations before him. Few things would make Larry light up like drilling through a sandstone formation and smelling the sweet smell of crude oil in the cuttings. He had a saying for just about everything. "No hill for a climber." "The harder I work, the luckier I get." "Happiness is an inside job." He believed success was a mindset, and he lived that belief every day.

Needless to say, Larry had no tolerance for people who did things halfway, and the only thing worse than a thief, in his mind, was a liar. "Your word is your bond" wasn't just a phrase to Larry; it was a measuring stick for every person he met. He could size someone up in short order, and he was usually right. He was comfortable in his own skin, and if he wasn't going to tell you what to do, he'd start a sentence with "If I was you..." and then tell you exactly what he thought. Larry was not what you would call a "mild-mannered man." He was direct, sometimes brash, and never once afraid to call things as he saw them. You didn't have to wonder where you stood with him, ever.

But underneath all of that was a man who loved hard. He could run a drilling rig almost effortlessly, and he expected his boys to learn by watching. Jason and Mat grew up on job sites, running steering wheels and working gas pedals before they could see over the dashboard. He put them in positions that assumed they were paying attention, because he expected nothing less. And they rose to the occasion. He gave his sons the tools they needed to chase their dreams, and then he got out of the way and watched them run. Both of them grew into men who made him deeply, unmistakably proud.

As hard as he worked them, he made sure they had the memories to go with it. Disney World was the tradition. Through the years, the family camped at Fort Wilderness for twenty-eight dollars a night, and Larry could retrace the route (and any route, for that matter) after driving it once. The boys still carry those memories. Mathew learning the hard way that grabbing a goat by the horns was a Larry-only skill. Susan mistaking dolphins for sharks off Sanibel Island and nearly destroying a jet ski getting to shore. Larry logged long hours, yes, but he refused to let work be the only story his family told.

When they weren't on the road, they were on the water. Larry's boat was the closest thing he had to an off switch. But if the boat was where Larry slowed down, the dinner table was where he came alive. He loved to eat, and he loved to talk, and he saw no reason to separate the two. The Gen Hoe restaurant was one of his favorite spots, where the staff called him "The Big One." He made such an impact that, when he passed, the owner sent extra egg rolls and almond cookies to the house. (Larry would have been furious that he missed it.)

For all his appetite for work and food and conversation, Larry finally started to slow down in his later years, and his grandchildren were the reason. They called him 'Papa', 'Papa-Sue', and 'The Grizzly Bear,' the latter earned on days when he was tired and running short on patience. He bought a tractor with a buddy seat just so they could ride along with him. He started making time for the things he'd always been too busy to notice: the front porch, where he could watch family come and go, and the back porch, where he could watch the sun go down. Larry had always had a vision for the family property, a place big enough for everyone to share, where his people could live and gather and build their lives around one another. His family is so thankful that he saw that vision through and that it will be his final resting place. He will be buried there, on the land he chose for them, and his family will one day join him.

He faced his final fight the way he faced every other one: with no quit in him. To his family, he was a leader, an example, and a friend. His life wasn't always easy to keep up with, but it was one worth following.

He is survived by his wife, Susan Neely; his sons & daughters-in-law, Jason Craig Neely (Stephanie Legg-Neely), and Mathew Craig (Lacey) Neely; his grandchildren, Charlie Legg, Rylan Legg, Gwendalyn "Fred," Easton "Easto-Beasto," Caroline "Carolino/Sis," Mason "Big May," and Everhett "The Rat/Bub"; his siblings & their spouses, Mark (Dede) Neely, Cindy (Jeff) Swanson, and Kelly (Jack) Moorehead; his siblings-in-law, Catherine (Mike) Yelk and Michael (JoAnn) Blennerhassett; his nieces & nephews, Steven Neely, Danny Neely, Emily Neely, Eric Swanson, Troy Swanson, Jake Moorehead, Steven (Beth) Yelk, Teresa (John) Brinkman, Jimmy (Elissa) Yelk, Christopher (Heather) Yelk, Ashley Blennerhassett, and Ryan Blennerhassett; and many great-nieces & nephews.

He was preceded in death by his parents, Harry & Donna Neely; his parents-in-law, Henry & Barbara Blennerhassett; and his brother-in-law, Charles Blennerhassett.

A time of visitation will be held from 10:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. on Saturday, April 11th, at the Goodwine Funeral Home in Robinson. A celebration of his life will immediately follow at 1:00 p.m. with Celebrant Curt Goodwine and Steven Neely officiating. During the service, family and friends will be given the opportunity to speak to the fullness of Larry's life.

Memorial contributions may be made to either the Boys and Girls Club or the NOW Program, and memorial envelopes will be available at the funeral home.