In the South, the relationship between the game of football, the fans, and the players is unlike that of any other region in the country. For many up-and-coming football stars, the road to success is long, grating, and filled with more interpersonal conflict than any outsider could imagine. This is the premise of Christopher Lowe’s short story collection Make Some Wretched Fool to Pay; each story focuses on the grief of loss and the power imbalances between children and their guardians, whether they be parents, coaches, or boosters.
Within the fifteen stories that Make Some Wretched Fool to Pay comprises, readers are immersed in a gritty, dreary American Deep South setting, many of them taking place in southern Louisiana. We see the perspective of high school football stars (“Five Star”), daughters of coaches (“Robards + Redbarn”), and sons of violent fathers (the collection’s title story). In many of the stories, characters have to deal with bereavement and the aching grief left behind by the memories of their parents or idols. In others, the point of view is from those who cause the grief. It’s a harsh, cruel world that Lowe explores, and his writing style only emphasizes the tension and angst embedded within the words on the page.
Michael Knight, author of Eveningland and At Briarwood School for Girls, praises Lowe’s work: “Along comes a writer like Christopher Lowe to remind us that everything we do leaves a mark and that football is more than just a game, especially in the South. There is violence in these pages, love and loss in equal measure, children bearing the legacies of strong women and broken men. Every word of this collection, every single word of it, rings true.”
An excerpt from the short story Absence, included in Make Some Wretched Fool to Pay by Christopher Lowe:
About the Author
Christopher Lowe was born in Mississippi, spent many years in Louisiana, and now lives in Illinois. He is also the author of Those Like Us: Stories and three prose chapbooks, including A Guest of the Program, winner of the Iron Horse Literary Review Chapbook Competition. His writing has appeared widely in magazines and journals including Brevity, Quarterly West, Third Coast, Booth, and Bellevue Literary Review.
Boudin: A Guide to Louisiana’s Extraordinary Link, Second Edition delves deep into the history and mystique of Louisiana’s most exclusive Cajun food. The book provides historical synthesis of boudin’s transportation and transformation from France in the 1700s to Louisiana’s Acadian, Creole, and Cajun populations. It also uncovers and celebrates the almost territorial devotion that people have to boudin it all its nuanced glory.
In addition, Boudin provides in-depth information on dozens of individual boudin makers, offering insight into their histories and their connection to this "Sausage Different.” With gorgeous images by renowned photographer Denny Culbert, the book manages to be both deeply informative and visually compelling.
From the most run-down gas stations off I-10 to the finest restaurants in the New Orleans French Quarter, you’re likely to find some form of boudin being served. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone from the state who’s never tried the dish, and even harder-pressed to find someone who’s never heard of it. Boudin is a Louisiana staple food, right alongside gumbo and jambalaya, that locals enjoy for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and anytime in between. As one of the state's most loved comfort foods, dozens of festivals and cook-offs are held each year in celebration of boudin, many of which attract thousands of people. Here, businesses come from near and far to compete for the title of "Best Boudin."
If you are ready to immerse yourself in boudin culture, don't go into it alone! Boudin: A Guide to Louisiana’s Extraordinary Link is the ideal companion for curious boudin beginners and proclaimed aficionados. Whether you’re looking to expand your knowledge on the history of the link, want to discover Louisiana’s secret boudin hotspots, or are ready to create your own competition-worthy recipe, Boudin has everything you need to begin your journey. Keep a copy in your vehicle for those across-the-state road trips, or keep it in the kitchen alongside your most prized recipes. No matter what you decide to use it for, Boudin is bound to get your taste buds watering!
Ready to begin your journey today? Check out this delicious traditional recipe dating all the way back to the 1930s!
Historic Boudin Recipe
by Mazie & Clarence Fontenot
Ingredients
- 2.5 pounds of pork meat with a little pork fat
- 1/2 pound pork liver
- 2 large onion heads, chopped
- 1 bunch green onion tops, chopped (green part only)
- 1 bunch fresh parsley, chopped
- Red pepper to taste (at least two tablespoons)
- Salt to taste (2-3 tablespoons)
- 2 pounds raw rice cooked separately
- 1 box boudin casings
Instructions
To cook the rice: Measure rice into a deep pot since rice will boil up and double in size. Add same amount of water as rice and three tablespoons salt. Cover tightly and place on medium high heat for ten minutes. Reduce heat to low and continue to cook until all the water has been absorbed into the rice and the kernels are tender.
Place the meat and liver in a deep gumbo pot and put in enough cold tap water to cover contents. Place on stove and bring to a boil and boil until tender. When cooked, remove from fire, pour off eater and allow meat to cool until it can be handled. When cool enough, grind in food chopper.
Chop the onion heads, the onion tops, and parsley. Place all these ingredients in a pan with a small amount of water. Place on the stove and bring to boiling point. Remove from heat, strain water away and add the chopped ingredients to the meat mixture in a large pan. Add cooked rice and salt and red pepper to taste. taste for seasoning and add more if necessary. Mix well.
Prepare the casings by cutting them into lengths about twelve inches. Run hot water through them and place them in a bowl of warm water until you are ready for them.
To stuff the boudin, you will need a "boudinierre" or some other cone-shaped object with a hole at the small end. (Most Cajuns have a boudinierre made from the end of a cow horn. A piece of cardboard can be used.) Place the boudinierre in one end of the casing and tie the other end with a string to hold the stuffing. Take a spoon and spoon the dressing into the boudinierre and on into the casing, pushing the dressing down to the bottom. When the casing has been filled, tie the other end and proceed with the other sections.
When all the dressing mixture has been put into the casings, place half the amount in the bottom of a big gumbo pot, handling carefully as to not break the casings. Cover the boudin with cold water and simmer for about twenty minutes. Do Not Boil.
Your boudin is now ready for eating.
Interested in reading more? Purchase your copy today!
With Mardi Gras right around the corner, many Louisianans have already begun preparing for the big celebration. In Louisiana's large, urban cities, the traditional Mardi Gras consists of street parades, king cake, and parties. But in Louisiana's smaller, rural communities, the traditional Mardi Gras is different. In these communities, locals participate in the Courir de Mardi Gras, or Mardi Gras run. Barry Ancelet, the author of From Behind the Mask, explains the historical division between the urban and country Mardi Gras:
"In a nutshell, the country Mardi Gras comes from the way Mardi Gras was celebrated in France in the rural section as opposed to the urban carnival. It's an early springtime renewal and is essentially a way for communities to celebrate and find themselves."
At first glance, Mardi Gras runs can appear to be wide-open public celebrations, but they are actually intimate expressions of community solidarity. Participants in Mardi Gras runs engage in Carnivalesque play, which includes the familiar practice of dressing in costumes, singing, and dancing, along with a few unconventional practices such as begging, whipping, and verbal play, which can be surprising for outsiders. However, the processional nature of these practices create what the participants think of as their little worlds.
The following excerpt reflects one of Barry Ancelet's experiences with Carnivalesque play at the Grand Marais Mardi Gras, one of several dozen versions of the traditional Mardi Gras in south Louisiana:
"[Thomas] came up to me on his knees, begging for a donation. I gave him a twenty-dollar bill. He stood and thanked me, saying that for twenty dollars I could choose someone to be whipped. I said that I only wanted to see somebody interesting whipped. He thanked me again profusely according to the ritual’s rules and made a big show of embracing me, in the process transferring some of the paint from his face to mine in the process. . . . After they had finished their song, the capitaine noticed me standing just outside the circle with paint on my face. He had me brought in and accused me of showing up late, standing outside of the circle, and running Mardi Gras without a hat. [After I protested] Capitaine Wallace then leaned toward me and said in a stage whisper that it was no use I try to talk my way out of this situation, because someone had given Thomas twenty dollars to have me whipped. I said, 'Now wait a minute. I’m the one who gave Thomas twenty dollars.' I insisted that it did not seem right to use a man’s own money to have him whipped. Capitaine Wallace allowed, 'You might have a point, there.'"
The continuation of this story, along with many others recorded over the span of forty years, can be read in Ancelet's latest title From Behind the Mask: Essays on South Louisiana Mardi Gras Runs.
Interested? Purchase your copy today!
]]>C.W. Cannon is a native New Orleanian who has published a wide variety of fiction and non-fiction about the city. His latest book, I Want Magic, brings together thirty-five essays published by Cannon over the past ten years. In his essays, Cannon utilizes his life experiences and intimate knowledge of his native city to explore the tension between New Orleans’s exceptionalism and Americanism, its identity since Katrina, and its role within the nation and South’s racial consciousness. Read the exclusive interview below to find out more about Cannon and the process behind creating his latest book!
C.W. Cannon (CWC): That was somewhat of a tough choice, because I only included about half of the pieces I'd published over the past ten years or so. It's interesting that you mention below how politically charged some of the essays are, because I did not include the most political of them. For example, I had one about alleged "socialism" on college campuses, a response to typical right-wing anti-intellectual propaganda. I also had an obituary for a local bookstore here in New Orleans, talking about the demise of print culture, but then acknowledging that perhaps the print has simply moved from page to pixel. I left that one out because it didn't concern New Orleans particularly, and the pieces selected for this collection all centered some way on New Orleans.
CWC: Yes, they were generally about the very sensitive matter of white people's racial feelings, especially in the South, with an honest look into my own white racial unconscious. One was about the furor over Paula Deen's reported use of the N-word, in which I argued that use of the N-word was not the best measure of the depth of a person's racism. One was about the acquittal of Trayvon Martin murderer George Zimmerman. It was called "White Fear," and it explored the stark fear that many white people have of some kind of Black revenge coming to get them for their ancestors' crimes. I mentioned movies, etc., as well as my own dark racial fears. I think the feeling was that it was too much like "whitesplaining," like a white apologia for racism, though that was not my intent—my intent was simply to describe feelings that I and many white people harbor, usually deep in our unconscious, not to excuse or justify those irrational fears and resentments.
CWC: American Horror Story: Coven is one of my favorite shows. It reminds me of New Orleans' rich mythological inheritance, even though it greatly distorts historical realities. I see this mythic imagination ("magic") as one of our greatest assets, and don't see any value in dismissing our rich lore out of a misguided effort to improve the admittedly troubling perennial problems the city faces by breaking with our distinctive cultural past. Lots of people have written about New Orleans exceptionalist ideology, but generally without factoring in the necessary context of New Orleans Americanism, and in very negative tones. If we understand New Orleans exceptionalism as utopian rather than ontological, as a dream or wish of a more liberated society—one that embraces desire and fantasy life—rather than as a factually false description of a nonexistent "Big Easy," then NOLA exceptionalism has value, as a meaningful counterweight to dominant American capitalist and puritanical ideologies. The NOLA exceptionalist dream valorizes sensual fulfillment, living for art, public habitation of the public space, urban cosmopolitanism, performance for its own sake (for everyone, not just paid professionals) and a distrust of American notions of social mobility as a measure of human worth. All of these are salutary, in my view.
CWC: I think the sense that some of these essays are critical of transplants may come from the anxiety over gentrification, which is to say the rising cost of living in the city. The one tendency of some new transplants that I take issue with is a kind of cultural policing over who gets to claim authentic native status, as a kind of misguided fast-track to their own New Orleanian authenticity. I don't see a problem with the kind of transplants that Richard Campanella famously called "supernatives." A living culture constantly draws people from other places who take up the mantle and idiom of the existing culture and shape it in new ways. The post-Katrina immigration has undoubtedly enriched the city's culture because many transplants make NOLA-specific practices and tropes their own and grow them. That's a great thing. My favorite kinds of transplants are the ones who are here because they love New Orleans, though they sometimes run away angry, bad-mouthing the city they lived in for a year, as soon as they experience age-old New Orleans irritants like crime, flooding, smelly garbage, homeless people, etc. I think the sense that I have an issue with transplants may simply come from my reporting of what other older New Orleanians are saying. My advice to new arrivals is to immerse themselves in the history, myth, and literature of the city, to have kids here, and to send them to the public schools.
CWC: I often sit down and try to crank out a total rough draft in one sitting. It usually takes maybe three or four hours. Then I go back and revise, edit, etc. I also like to wait at least a day and return to it, to try to see it with fresh eyes.
CWC: Yes, I realize that there is some political dynamite in some of these essays, though I left the most partisan political opinions I've penned for local media out of the collection. I grew up left-wing, my parents were Civil Rights activists, from the South, in the 1960s, so I inherited a deep sense of outrage over racist, misogynist, homophobic, and economically regressive politicians and policies from a young age, and a personalization of the issues that non-southerners may not feel about the southern political scene. I consciously represent a sector of New Orleans society, and of southern white society, that is off the radar of most Americans' political geography. I think it's imperative to point out that these increasing divisions in our society are being fomented by an increasingly bold right-wing authoritarian movement comparable to the generation that crushed Reconstruction and established Jim Crow over a century ago. We can't be timid and play "both sides" games with the forces that now threaten our democracy. The divide between New Orleans and the rest of the state is now vaster than ever, partly because white racial conservatives fled the city when the great Mayor Moon Landrieu desegregated City Hall in the 1970s. America, especially Louisiana, is becoming more economically unequal and heavily armed by the day; pregnant people no longer have autonomy over their own bodies, and south Louisiana's physical future is being sacrificed for the handful of oligarchs who get rich off of oil. Meanwhile, masses of rural Americans—especially in Louisiana—are misinformed daily by the onslaught of right-wing media. This is where the division is coming from. I feel it at a deep personal level because I have many family members in the rural Gulf South who have been lost to the lies that blanket their media landscape. They were smarter and more humane twenty years ago than they are now—and yes, I've had these arguments with them (until we stopped talking). Right-wing media is what's tearing the country apart. We can't be squeamish about calling this stuff out. I've always admired the classic conservatism of Edmund Burke, David Hume, Adam Smith, and, more recently, William F. Buckley, George Will, David Brooks, and Michael Gerson. Disagreed, perhaps, but admired. That's not the kind of "conservatism" American conservatives mean today when they use that label, especially not in Louisiana.
CWC: My oldest child is into science, was never a humanities-type thinker and is happily majoring in biochemistry. My second child, on the other hand, is really into philosophy, literature, and the arts. Some people are naturally inclined to explore the kinds of questions entertained in the humanities, regardless of social class or other social indices. Intellectuals are people who are predisposed to the humanities idiom. Intellectuals are conservative, liberal, gay, straight, all colors and all genders. I believe some people are natural philosophers in the very broad sense of that term, meaning they're just into humanities. Other people are natural musicians, natural athletes, natural salespeople, etc. But we now live in a moment, again, when intellectuals are being demonized by a right-wing populist anti-intellectual movement (that doesn't really deserve the name, "conservative," though that's what they call themselves). The Spartans sentenced Socrates to death; the Catholic Church tortured Galileo Galilei until he recanted his theories, and Nazis, Stalinists, McCarthyites, and Maoists have singled out intellectuals for abuse. Yes, today's Republicans carp about what they call "low-value degrees," when the answer is just to make college free or much more affordable so that people can pursue the fields they're naturally inclined to in this great utopian experience called a four-year college—if it were truly available to all, then the political weaponization of the four-year degree would go away. Some people would do it, others would choose apprenticeships or other forms of training for their adult futures. All of these options should be available, but they're not. That's why the divisiveness is so effective, like tossing water to some castaways, wine to others, and nothing to most. Some people are into humanities, others aren't, and others who would be into such fields are steered away by a hostile economic and political environment. The humanities will never be "dead," though, because the conversations enabled by the humanities are conversations (some) people have wanted to have for thousands of years, and continue to be drawn to.
CWC: Basically just keep at it, though don't worry if you need to take a break. Try to get stuff into circulation, online or little journals, zines, open mic nights, whatever, and remember that when you're not working on a project or sharing it with the public, you're in "sleep mode." It doesn't mean you're "not a writer" or will never write again, but writing is a practice, in the sense of a craft people do. Some people have a natural proclivity for it, but of course hardly anyone makes a living from it. This was perhaps always true of poets, but it's now true for novelists, essayists, etc., except for a small batch of intrepid professional journalists who are sorely underpaid (like all intellectual laborers) for the services they provide our society. Get comfortable teaching, or some kind of physical labor (a relief from the mental labor of writing), and always have a project underway or planned.
]]>UL Press welcomes a diversity of thoughts and open discussions from its authors. The opinions contained in this interview represent the views and opinions of the interviewee and do not necessarily represent the views or opinions of UL Press or the University of Louisiana at Lafayette.
A sneak-peak inside African American Home Remedies and its beautiful illustrations.
Home remedies and alternative medicine have become increasingly popular with the ongoing pandemic. Although this interest has been gaining momentum in the last few years, this practice has been a part of many cultures for centuries.
For example, Cajun traiteurs (treaters), also known as faith healers, have been ministering to the ill and injured throughout Acadiana for centuries. At Vermilionville’s Living History and Folk Life Park, a significant attraction is the Le Jardin du Traiteur (The Healer’s Garden), which displays nearly eighty traditional healing plants and herbs used by Cajun traiteurs and locals.
Alternative medicine is not exclusive to Cajun culture. Modern home remedies are especially prevalent today in the African American community, particularly with the older generation. Just as The Healer’s Garden preserves and teaches others about Cajun folk medicine, authors Eddie L. Boyd and Leslie A. Shimp have done the same for African American folk medicine in their book African American Home Remedies. This detailed index contains over one hundred descriptions and illustrations of popular medicinal plants, herbs, and other everyday home products used by African American families. It provides information on the ailments these substances have been thought to treat, along with usage and application data from two studies conducted in affiliation with the University of Michigan. Below are just a few examples of remedies discussed in the book.
(Taraxacum Officinale, Nature's Coffee)
Study respondents reportedly used dandelion to treat arthritis (root), diabetes, and when feeling poorly (greens). Dandelion greens have been used in salads and in winemaking and have been cooked like spinach. Dandelion roots have been roasted like coffee and used in herbal remedies to treat diabetes, disorders of the liver, as a diuretic, as a laxative and tonic, and to treat the common cold. Dandelion juice has been used to treat corns. Dandelion has caused contact dermatitis in susceptible individuals. One preliminary study found that dandelion extract may have beneficial effects against prostate and breast cancer cells, and a recent study reported that it lowered blood sugar. Published scientific studies supporting the use of dandelion for the other ailments listed are lacking.
(Yolk/White/Skin/Shell)
Respondents reportedly used the parts of egg to treat hair loss, pink eye, sore throat (whole egg), shortness of breath, ulcers (whole egg), abscess (skin), acne (skin), boils (skin and white), arthritis (white), and venereal disease (shell and white). Beaten whole eggs have been used to prepare a facial mask to improve the skin and as a shampoo to improve the appearance of the hair. Mixtures of egg white have been used to treat diarrhea in children, coughs, and hoarseness. Egg whites sometimes mixed with toothpaste has been used to treat minor burns. The skin of raw and boiled eggs have been used to treat boils, minor cuts, and bruises. Crumbled eggshell mixtures have been used internally to cut up worms in humans and animals. Eggs have been used externally for their cosmetic effect. Beaten egg white have been used as a facial mask to make the skin look and feel smooth. It is postulated that the mask works because egg proteins constrict as they dry, pulling some of the dried skin cells with them, and when washed off some of the dried skin cells are also washed off. Although egg probably is effective for some of the uses described above, the authors found no published clinical or scientific studies to support the use of egg for these purposes.
(Allium Cepa)
Onion was used to treat fever, colds, pneumonia, burns, corns, and calluses. Traditionally onion has been used orally to treat flatulence, whooping cough, fever, colds, bronchitis, hypertension, angina, asthma, diabetes, and as a diuretic. Topically, onion has been used to treat insect bites, warts, bruises, furuncles, and to stimulate hair growth in cases of baldness. Results of a large epidemiological study indicate that daily consumption of onion may be inversely related to the development of pancreatic cancer. Additional data suggests the higher the consumption of onions, the lower the risk for a number of types of cancers. Consumption of red onion reduces blood glucose levels and may be helpful in the treatment of diabetes. There is very little, if any, reliable published information available that supports the use of onion for the other medical purposes listed above.
To learn more about African American home remedies and the studies performed on their effectiveness, as well as their relation to socio-demographic characteristics in the African American community, get your copy of African American Home Remedies: A Practical Guide today.
Through Mama’s Eyes: Unique Perspectives in Southern Matriarchy is a collection of interdisciplinary essays that explore the concept of motherhood in the South and its effect on American society. Each essay is an invitation to engage in deeper conversations about southern matriarchy and its perceptions as a whole. Get to know a little about the brains behind this book, Cheylon Woods and Kiwana McClung, in the interview below!
What made you want to facilitate discussions on southern matriarchy?
Cheylon Woods: I was born and raised in California by two southern parents. It was important to my mom that I had some “southern-ness” instilled in me so there were some things she went out of her way to teach me. She liked to call me a “G.R.I.T.S” (Girl Raised In The South), and it has always had a weird, profound impact on me. Fast forward to me living in Louisiana for more than a decade and having graduated from three Louisiana universities, plus working at one, I tracked patterns in how people believed they were supposed to engage. Many of the things I noticed were traits anecdotally attributed to how “Mama” would expect people to act. When I would lead tours, programs, and/or classes on Gaines’s work, my audiences wanted to talk more about the “motherly” characters in the novels than any of the others, and I wanted to dig deeper into the impact the concept of “southern matriarchy” really played in our lives.
Kiwana McClung: The desire was born from a conversation between Cheylon and myself. We had just collaborated on a program for Black History Month and Women's History Month. As we reflected on the program, we realized that the general theme was the lives and influences of family leaders who are women. Cheylon spoke about how the women leaders in her life had made her the woman she is today, and I explained my own experiences with the matriarchs in my life and defined my own perspectives about how Black women occupied, claimed, and moved through physical space. We were both aware that the topic of matriarchy could be understood across cultures, and we hypothesized that many others would be interested in exploring it. We were proved correct by the sheer number of submissions made in response to the call for the book.
Would you mind telling readers a bit about the program at the Ernest J. Gaines Center in 2016 and how it influenced this book?
Cheylon Woods: The 2016 program we created was the first test-run for what would become the book. I had an idea of how the communities in South Louisiana engaged with ideas around women, femininity, and matriarchy, and I wanted to do something that a) celebrated Women’s History Month, and b) generated conversation around how we visualize women in this society. I also wanted to do something that would showcase student work and the interdisciplinary nature of African American Literature. At that time, I had met Kiwana a few times, and I felt like the abstract visual descriptions of physical places in African American literature was fascinating. I approached her about working with NOMAS [National Organization of Minority Architecture Students] to see what the students would identify and build as women’s spaces in fiction, and that is how “Her Space, Her Place: Influences of Black Female Narration” was designed.
Kiwana McClung: In late 2015, I was approached by Cheylon, who was brainstorming programming to be held in the Ernest J. Gaines Center for Black History and Women's History Month, in February and March of 2016. She envisioned a porch space that would serve as a backdrop for a program that celebrated women, femininity, and the people of south Louisiana. I am an advisor to the student organization NOMAS, and I recognized that the members of this organization would enjoy this unique opportunity to design something rare and conceptual. After several discussions with Cheylon, we decided to create an installation that explored how Black women claimed, occupied, and navigated physical space and objects, using excerpts chosen by Cheylon from three literary works: The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman by Ernest J. Gaines, A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry, and The Color Purple by Alice Walker. The resulting design was a 300–400 square foot installation that resembled a house, but with weird edges, strange adjacencies, and nostalgic objects that made direct reference to the excerpts from the books. The installation also had no walls, no working windows, and no roof to signify the distinct lack of protection given to the Black women in the chosen literary works. The program developed around the installation included interpretive dancers, gospel singers, writers, and poets, with the installation serving as both a dynamic background for the program and a performative storytelling space to convey the artistic narratives of the dancers, singers, writers, and poets who participated in the program. As you may imagine, the success of the program and the installation prompted some exciting discussions with Cheylon and others, which led us to pursue the book idea.
What was your collaboration process like while working on this book?
Cheylon Woods: I love doing collaborative projects. I feel like my job is to collect and disseminate knowledge, so I am always looking to work with people who have different perspectives. It felt like we worked on the book for forever, but in actuality we got through it pretty quickly. Working with so many people at once will always have challenges, but it was well worth it, and I am happy to have met the many people who contributed to the book. I am also grateful to James Wilson who was such a help when he was working for the UL Press. Although his name is not on or in the book, I don’t know how this would have come to existence if he was not willing to teach us so much about the process.
Kiwana McClung: It was an amazing collaborative process where we both brought our strengths to the table to facilitate the book's completion. Cheylon took the lead on the logistical and communication aspects of the book, sending out the call and communicating with the UL Press and the selected authors. I took on the more visual and organizational aspects of the book project, bringing Lynda Frese in for the cover art and her photo essay, and developing a preliminary outline for the editing process and an outline for the conceptual organization of the essays. Cheylon and I met weekly to read and discuss the essays. We both collaborated on the sequence of the essays in the book. We worked together to finalize the details, and we both contributed our own essays to the book as well. We had a lot of help from Devon Lord (UL Press) in the end. It was not an effortless process, with there being so many authors, but it was an incredibly interesting and engaging process because it prompted so many great discussions between Cheylon and myself about the concept of matriarchy.
How did you choose which authors and essays to include in this collection?
Cheylon Woods: We only had two major criteria for the book: that it was geographically locked to the US South, and that the abstracts were well written. Initially, we set the number of submissions to ten, but we had so many people submit good applications, neither Kiwana nor I thought it would be fair to say no. The process of reading the submissions was quite edifying because it showed that we were on to something with this idea.
Kiwana McClung: Cheylon and I read the essay submissions, then we got together to discuss each, debating their suitability for the book. There were so many good ones to choose from that we had to leave some out. We really wanted a variety of perspectives, so the lineup of essays we chose reflects the diversity of thought and experiences concerning the topic of matriarchy.
Are there any aspects of southern matriarchy that you wish were explored further in this collection?
Cheylon Woods: I was really hoping for some essays exploring more nontraditional concepts of matriarchy. When I think of matriarchs, I think of women who lead with a gentle firmness. At no point did I assume that my concept of matriarchy or my view of femininity was the rule, so I was really open to what we would receive. The only fixed rule we had was that the contributions had to relate to the geographical location of the southern United States. I think it would have been cool to even include essays criticizing the concept of southern matriarchy and challenging its influence and who can yield it.
Kiwana McClung: I wish that we had gotten more essays that explored the topic of matriarchy through the lens of different discipline areas. We had a fantastic essay that had a mathematics focus. My essay was rooted in the discipline of architecture, and Lynda’s was clearly in the art wheelhouse, but many of the essays were focused on literature or the narratives of real people. I would have loved to have some essays that explored matriarchy through music or the health sciences. Cheylon and I realized pretty quickly that the possibilities were so extensive that we could create a second book if we wanted to.
Most of these essays examine southern matriarchy through literary analysis. Why do you think exploring southern matriarchy through that lens is important?
Cheylon Woods: The literary lens provides so much space for people to think through social and socio-political concepts that have a significant impact on how we understand the world around us—especially fiction. Fiction encompasses so many different themes and intersections of life, it creates a beautifully complicated space for people to identify and interrogate many ideologies they see at play around them. Authors draft their books knowing that it will be interpreted differently by each of its readers. I feel like they build that space into the narrative. That space is why we got so many amazing contributions engaging with southern matriarchy through literary analysis—literature provides such a robust thematic canvas for scholars to build their ideas out of.
Kiwana McClung: Chinua Achebe said, "Literature, whether handed down by word of mouth or in print, gives us a second handle on reality.” I like this quote because it identifies literature as an effective method for exploring and revealing the nuances of reality. The facts stated as such do not reveal the emotions, the motivations, and the humanity behind the events, situations, and happenings of real life. Even more, literature allows for the intersection of the many distinct aspects of life, presenting them in ways that are often beyond how we experience them. In my everyday interactions with people, I only have a comprehensive understanding of my own experience, but with literature, I am invited into the experiences of many, allowing me to see and understand much more, in a more nuanced way. Those essays in the book that focused on literature did so in a way that called attention to real-life events or conditions, allowing the reader to gain contextual understanding of those events or conditions.
How do you conceptualize the term matriarch?
Cheylon Woods: Matriarch conjures ideas of strength and structure to me. A Matriarch is someone who is nurturing to those around them with the hopes of helping them become the best version of themselves. To me, a matriarch is the personification of the greater good theory, always thinking about how to ensure the well-being of those entrusted to their care. Being a matriarch is also something that requires a lot of time and dedication, and I think a number of the essays in this book do an amazing job of illustrating the complexities of this idea among marginalized communities.
Kiwana McClung: To me, the term “matriarch” can be used to describe a family, group, or community leader whose presentation and behaviors lean toward the feminine side of the gender spectrum. The understanding of who can be considered a matriarch becomes more nuanced depending upon one’s definition of “family,” their position on gender, and their positioning of femininity in the context of a patriarchal society. Certainly, there are other cultural factors that play a part in defining who can be considered a “matriarch,” but I believe they all fit within that framework.
Not only are you editors of this book, but you also both contributed a reading. How did you decide what to personally contribute?
Cheylon Woods: During my tenure as the head and archivist of the Ernest J. Gaines Center, I had the privilege of spending a lot of time with Dr. Gaines and his family. I got to listen to stories he would tell about his childhood, his aunt, and his community. Part of my job was to also write about Gaines’s work, so I started reading more essays and articles written about him. I noticed that there were many about how his Aunt Augusteen was a muse to him, but I didn’t feel like they captured who she was the way our conversations did. Augusteen was important to Dr. Gaines, just as, and sometimes more important than his novels. She lived a full life that included rearing an internationally renowned author. They had memories of her, not as a muse for literature, but as their aunt, as the woman who took care of them, as a member of Cherie Quarters. I wanted to share that. I wanted people to feel the love Dr. Gaines and his siblings had for her beyond his body of work. For me, if I was going to contribute anything at all, it could only be that story, which wasn’t mine to tell. So, that is why I chose to contribute an ethnographic interview of Dr. Gaines’s memories of Augusteen, and his brother (Norbert Colar) and his sister’s (Lois Smith) memories of Augusteen and “Mama Zuma.” These women were matriarchs of their families, and they deserved to be celebrated.
Kiwana McClung: My contribution was quite easy to decide upon; I simply wrote about the H.E.R. House installation project and the underlying themes revealed through its conception, design, and construction. I also wanted my essay to shed light on the shared experience of Black women in the built environment and architectural space, an aspect that is rarely explored. This aspect of my essay was important for me to address because it is the common thread in all three of the literary works in which excerpts were pulled to facilitate the design of the installation. I speak a lot on the concept intersectionality in my essay, to make clear to the reader the ways in which the identities of Black women intersect and call on them to be flexible in their engagement of the built environment. In addition, I provided personal anecdotes outlining how a specific matriarch in my life navigated the unique conditions forged by her collective identity in the built environment. Finally, I wanted to make clear that the installation was also a learning opportunity, where architecture and design students can engage in projects that call for them to consider and address the needs of a marginalized population. I think this is likely the most important part of my essay, because it outlines how a group of students who are marginalized in the design professions, through the installation project, gained the skills necessary for success while simultaneously designing for and highlighting a marginalized group in the built environment.
What do you hope readers take away from your book?
Cheylon Woods: I hope this book encourages people to consider how they think about the role of matriarchs and the impact of southern-ness. I don’t expect people to clearly say, “Yup, they got it right!” because there may be those who disagree with our essays. That is okay. I want this book to generate conversation and exploration into what the words “southern” and “matriarch” mean in their lives.
Kiwana McClung: I hope that people not only gain an appreciation for matriarchs and the incredible role they play in society, but also an awareness of the social and cultural nuances of the concept of matriarchy. There is no neat box or definition for what a matriarch is or who can be one. Also, we must begin to explore how our society is changing in our acceptance of women leaders and the role that matriarchy has played in this shift. We have always had matriarchs, and many influential ones can be identified throughout history, but now we have women who run Fortune 500 companies and lead organizations in many sectors of our society. I believe these women leaders bring some of the same qualities to their positions as the matriarchs of the past: protectiveness, empathy, and a desire to ensure the survival of the company/organization/family.
Are you working on any new projects that you would like readers to know about?
Cheylon Woods: I am always working on new projects through the Ernest J. Gaines Center. The easiest way to keep up with what we are doing is to follow us on social media, join our newsletter (email cheylon.woods@louisiana.edu with the subject “I would like the Ernest J. Gaines Center newsletter”) and check the website periodically. The biggest project is the Open Resource page on the center’s website, where people can watch recordings of past programs and read our original blog series. Personally, I am working on my PhD in Folklore, and that is a really exciting experience.
Kiwana McClung: I recently stepped into the role as Interim Chief Diversity Officer at UL Lafayette. In this role, I am primarily engaged in promoting and facilitating diversity, equity, and inclusion issues at the university level. I have however, for a few years, been involved in research of the Louisiana listings from the Negro Motorists Green Book. I believe that these travel guides are the most comprehensive record of the movements of Black and brown people during the Jim Crow Era, a period in our history that was perilous for anyone who was non-white. I am hoping to bring the places and narratives surrounding these spaces to life in virtual environments that could serve as tools for teaching and understanding this time in our history.
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Veux-tu,
Quand les dames prennent leurs cafés dans leurs cuisines
autour, d’une table en bois aprés boire et aprés jouer à la bourrée que
équand ton nom est mentionné que tu sois une femme bonne ?
Ma grand-mère était une femme bonne parce qu’elle s’en
occupait de mon grand-père alcoolique et parce qu’elle a souri
souvent et elle a cuisiné pour sa famille et aimait beaucoup Jésus.
Équand son mari l’a trahi avec la madame du bar et quand elle est
devenue pleine d’un bébé, elle a continué comme c’était pas rien.
Est-ce que c’est vraiment pareil d’etre une personne bonne
et une femme bonne ? Le fait d’être une femme dans le sud de la
Louisiane fait que le monde ne te laisse jamais oublier que tu es la
‘tite fille de quelqu’un.
Mais, tu souris ?
Tu aimes Jésus ?
Es-tu une mère ? Et occupes-tu d’une famille ?
Si tu ne fais pas encore, tu le ferras équand ?
Et si tu ne le fais pas, pourquoi ?
Mais elle a pris sa pilule de calme pour équand le monde
apparaissait étrange autour d’elle et la lumière l’agressait.
Je me souviens de cette lumière jaune-orange de sa cuisine et de
cette table en bois qui a pris tout l’espace dans la salle à manger.
Mon papa était une personne bonne parce qu’il a continué
d’aller off-shore pour soutenir la famille jusqu’au moment où il n’en
pouvait plus.
Une personne bonne, travaille dur.
Une femme bonne mène la maison. Elle frème sa bouche.
Est-ce qu’elle peut être une femme bonne si elle parle trop ? Ou
si elle passe des jugements sur les autres ? Elle peut être un peu dure
avec ses mots, et elle se moque de toi équand tu fais des bêtises.
Une femme bonne, et
Si elle porte souvent un pantalon ? Si elle boit ?
Et si elle a des doutes sur les personnes en charge ?
Et si elle ne croit pas en Dieu mais dans le pouvoir inné de son
propre corps et de son esprit ?
Et si elle ne fait pas d’enfants ?
Et si elle recommence son chemin et change ses idées encore et
encore ?
Et si elle pose trop de questions ?
Tu peux être sûr qu’elle se demande trop de choses déja...
Il y avait une femme qui courait nue dans les bois, qui
nourrissait des loups de son sein. Qui q ri son genre. Et si on peut la
retrouver ?
Mais asteure, peux-je être une femme bonne si je me méfie des
autres ? Si je connais pas mes voisins et en plus, ils veulent pas me
connaître ?
Je ne vais pas veiller chez grande-tante. Je ne vais pas cuisiner
le souper pour Pop qui a attrapé le cancer. Il n’y a pas d’enfants qui
frappent à ma porte. Il n’y pas le téléphone qui sonne. Je me suis
enlevée de ce monde. Ce monde qui n’existe seulement dans un
temps passé.
Would you want that when
the ladies have their coffee leaning over their kitchen tables, playing bourée
and when they mention your name,
do you want to be a good woman?
My grandmother was a good woman because she took care of my alcoholic grandfather, and
because she smiled a lot, cooked for her family and loved Jesus. When her husband
betrayed her with the barmaid, and when she became pregnant, she acted like nothing
happened?
Is being a good person the same thing as being a good woman?
In South Louisiana where you’re always someone’s little girl?
The endless questions:
Why don’t you smile?
Do you believe in Jesus?
Are you a mom? Do you have kids? When are you going to have them?
You’d better decide if you want them.
My grandmother took her calm pill for when everything became strange and the lights became
blinding.
I remember that yellow-orange light and her big wooden table that took up all the space in the
kitchen.
My grandfather was a good man because he continued to go off-shore to support the family even
after he exhausted himself.
A good man works hard.
A good woman runs the house. She shuts her mouth.
How could she be a good woman if she talks too much? Or if she’s judgmental?
If her words are harsh and she makes fun of you when you mess up?
Is she a good woman, even if she always wears pants? If she drinks too much?
If she has doubts about the people in charge?
And even if she doesn’t believe in God but in the power of her own spirit?
Even if she never has kids?
And if she changes her path and her mind over and over?
And if she asks too many questions?
She already questions herself too much…
There was a wild woman who ran naked in the woods and nursed wolves from her breast. She
laughed in the faces of terrified men, and created her own world for herself and for others
like her.
And if we could find her again?
How could I be a good woman if I distrust others? And if I don’t know my neighbors, and they
don’t want to know me?
I won’t visit my great-aunt or cook for Pop who has cancer. There aren’t any children who knock
on my door. The telephone doesn’t ring. I am not a part of that past world,
which only exists in my mind.
Peut-être que la fille astronaute n’a pas besoin de sommeil.
Mes cheveux sont la couleur des galaxies et
Mes mains sont nées dans des univers.
Je parle avec des pierres et des molécules, puis je laisse les molécules
s’habiller dans l’écho de ma voix comme des vêtements.
Le temps file, une salamandre entre eau et terre, entre passé et futur,
il dit.
Je dis, Ils disent qu’ils ne peuvent pas prendre feu.
Certains jours, il essaie d’attraper mes molécules. Les autres jours,
mes salamandres.
Mais chaque jour, je brûle.
Peut-être que la fille astronaute ne rêve pas seulement en décimales
Mais parfois aussi des fractions.
L’arithmétique de mes yeux multiplie l’espace.
Je raconte les histoires de l’océan, et ça tourne comme un enfant
agité.
Je sais que ça ne fait rien.
Il écrit toujours des lettres aux couleurs orange et jaune,
Et il leur raconte des histoires de mes yeux.
Au loin, je laisse les étoiles rendre ses lettres.
L’avenir n’a pas de rivage, ils disent.
J’essaie de le trouver quand même.
La marée n’a besoin d’aucun endroit pour se reposer, ils disent.
Ça va, je ne suis pas fatigué.
Et au loin, je fais réveiller les planètes pendant que la lune défait ses
briques et recommence à se construire
Elderly woman in Congo Square, February 1891. Image from Congo Square.
As Evans describes, meetings in Congo Square lasted from the early Eighteenth Century until the 1850s, and then began again after emancipation. The Square was a place of communal strength and care, where hundreds of people of African descent met weekly to carry out their cultural traditions.
Congo Square by Adewale S. Adele. Image from Congo Square.
Over time, these Congo Square gatherings had an immeasurable impact on New Orleans’s culture through the music, songs, dances, and market practices. Evans traces the ways in which rhythmic patterns popular in Congo Square influenced the street
beat, bamboula beat, second line, and even the New Orleans beat and early jazz. The different African traditions practiced there also shaped distinctive New Orleans customs like the second line and the jazz funeral. The instruments used in Congo Square, including many different kids of drums, shaped early jazz music, and some evolved into instruments popular today.
The gatherings in Congo Square left unmistakable and deep-rooted effects on New Orleans. Evans’s books highlight the diverse backgrounds of the people in Congo Square, the practices they maintained, and the tenacity that, despite traumatic and repressive conditions, fostered traditions vibrant enough to spread through the city, the country, and the world.
Freddi Evans will be at Melba’s Poboy’s Friday, February 25th from 12–1 p.m. where she will be giving away copies of Come Sunday. It’s an excellent opportunity for kids to learn a little about Congo Square this Black History Month.
Freddi Williams Evans is an alumna of Tougaloo College, Tougaloo, Mississippi, where, as a music major, she began studying traditional African music on a study-travel to the University of Ghana at Accra. Evans has presented on Congo Square at schools, museums, and festivals. Her research on Congo Square has taken her to numerous archives, local and national, and back to West Africa. Evans resides in New Orleans and works as an arts educator and administrator as well as an independent scholar.
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Ghosts of Good Times: South Louisiana Dance Halls Past and Present examines a world of Cajun dance halls, Zydeco clubs, Chitlin’ Circuit R&B night clubs, Swamp-Pop Honkytonks and other venues that at one time were prevalent throughout the region. Photographs by Philip Gould blend architectural imagery of buildings still standing with historic photographs of the clubs that he took in their heyday. Herman Fuselier and other writers provide a rich selection of historic accounts and essays about their personal experiences in the clubs.
The book also examines the dance hall scene today and how the venues have changed. The music following remains strong and people still come to dance. The surviving old dance halls and newer venues are still in full swing. Old or new, they are icons, a proud south Louisiana legacy of Good Times.
From the "Introduction":
I first stood on Louisiana soil in Lafayette during May of 1982. There, I found myself standing at the crossroads of another culture. Shortly after, I heard about a Clifton Chenier gig scheduled for the next day at the Grant Street Dancehall. Clifton was very ill and could not perform that night, so Rockin’ Dopsie filled in. That evening someone gave me Ambrose Thibodeaux’s name and address written on a paper napkin. This is how it went every trip I took—acquiring names of musicians scribbled on little pieces of paper or cardboard beer coasters. . . . .
This is my story—how I discovered Cajun music and its musicians. Several times I went back; time and again I was surprised by the cultural endurance of this relatively small group of people. Both old and young keep their history alive through a simple bond—the culture, the language, and the songs of their ancestors. . . . This is not a historical document about these people and their music, and it is far from complete when it comes to even musicians. These images instead record my journey into a culture that continually captivates me.
The Good Times Rolled comes from the French phrase laissez les bons temps rouler, which symbolizes the spirit of the city of New Orleans. Festive and flamboyant, the legendary Crescent City is a cauldron in which the spicy flavors of many different cultures and races have blended for nearly three centuries. Bernard Hermann's images capture the unique intensity of New Orleans's African American community and in doing so reveal the true soul of this exotic American city.
African American Trail Riding Clubs have their roots in the Creole culture formed in South Louisiana in the eighteenth century. Today trail rides are an opportunity for generations of people to gather, celebrate, and ride horseback. The riders form a distinctive yet little-known sub-culture in Southwest Louisiana. In addition to sharing an important aspect of Louisiana’s cultural heritage, Ariaz’s photographs assert a counter-narrative to historic representations of the cowboy and prevailing images of difference and despair in Black America.
Dorothea Lange said, “Photography takes an instant out of time, altering life by holding it still.” My job as a photographer is not to direct or manipulate a picture, it’s to capture something that presents itself to me. The architecture, light, shapes and people have to come together in a special way within the boundaries of my viewfinder. A good photograph is the culmination of life lived, books read, music heard, food eaten, and experiences had.
New Orleans Portrayed represents thousands of hours of wandering and wondering, with good days and bad light, with bad days and good light. Photographers don’t find the picture; pictures find the photographer. As Walker Evans said, “Good photography is unpretentious.” These ideas continue to inspire and drive my work.
Catahoula is more than just a dog picture-book. The origins began in 1993, when photographer John Slaughter was commissioned by a Catahoula-themed restaurant located in Calistoga, California. Following that project, he continued to photograph the Louisiana State Dog. What makes Catahoulas such an interesting subject is that they come in so many different colors, including their eyes. Many of the most striking images are of the dogs' faces. They have an other-worldly stare that says "I am an individual, I am thinking, I am watching, do not assume that I am like other dogs." Included in this book are several owner articles as well as a section entitled "Cowdogs and Cowboys," as Catahoulas are known for their herding instincts.
Trevian Ambroise is a senior History major from Broussard, Louisiana. He works with the Center for Louisiana Studies through the Martin Family Assistantship and researches the historic Black communities in New Iberia. Outside of research and being a student, he enjoys being involved on campus, gardening, genealogy, crabbing, and rewatching his favorite tv shows. |
Julie Babineaux is a Vermilion Parish native and has spent the majority of her life residing in Cow Island, Louisiana. She is studying for her undergraduate degree in Traditional Music, with a concentration on bass, and a History minor. Julie assists with shipping/fulfillment and more recently has been organizing projects through UL Press and Center for Louisiana Studies to promote Louisiana culture through music. She enjoys the familiarity and quietness of the center and loves being surrounded by books all day. You can usually find Julie playing music or making coffee. |
Ethan Eddy is a graduate assistant at the Center for Louisiana Studies. He graduated in 2020 from the University of Louisiana at Lafayette with a BA in English and a minor in French. He is currently working toward his MA in Professional Writing. Ethan edits and formats the archives and collections that the center holds. He specializes in editing both English and French archival documents and social media analytics. He is a Breaux Bridge resident and has worked for the Rayne Chamber of Commerce as a grant writer, content writer, and social media marketer.
Miranda Heaner is a first-year MA student in French with the Department of Modern Languages. She is originally from Los Angeles, but she has lived everywhere from Chicago to Strasbourg, France. She received her BA in French and in International Studies from Northwestern University, where she wrote an undergraduate thesis on antisemitism, homophobia, and the duality of belonging as seen in multiple volumes of Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time. Her current research topics include Mardi Gras traditions and Schwäbish-alemannische Fastnacht celebrations in Switzerland, the sociolinguistics of code-switching, and traditional Cajun music. In her spare time, she loves to knit, spend time with friends, and play with her cat, Puck. |
Macey Ory is from Covington, Louisiana, but received her BA in English Literature with a minor in French at Louisiana Tech University in Ruston. Currently, she is working on her MA in English with a concentration in Professional Writing at UL Lafayette. She is a graduate assistant at UL Press, writing blogs and creating social media content. Macey has loved getting to know the different cultures across Louisiana while moving around for school, and she enjoys exploring the history and culture of the state further through her research at UL Press. One of her favorite things about her work is the opportunity it provides to share her appreciation of Louisiana. She has a wide variety of hobbies, but lately in her spare time you can usually find her in the kitchen learning to cook something new. |
Megan Wittenberg was born and raised in Lafayette, Louisiana. She is currently a first-year in the Public History graduate program with a focus on European history. She received her BA in History with a minor in French from UL Lafayette. In her current job at the center, she works with the Dr. Patricia Rickels student files, which focus on Dr. Rickels’s folklore and culture classes taught at UL Lafayette. The files consist of hundreds of student papers and taped interviews from the late 1960s to early 1970s, and Meagan has enjoyed learning about all the local folklore beliefs and traditions. She finds it interesting and exciting that these beliefs have so much history and have been passed down mostly intact. Megan is also fluent in French and is a huge fan of Taylor Swift and Marvel. |
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What was the process of writing as a husband-and-wife team like?
J: Joyous.
A: Joyous indeed, but to be more specific, once we had our outline, we divided up the scenes as to who would tackle the first draft. Once we had gotten something down—even something clunky—we would take out red pencils, mark it up, revise, mark it up again, revise again, and then either pronounce it acceptable or jettison the entire scene and try to figure out where we went wrong. Or, as happened often, hand one’s first draft to the other and ask, “Maybe you should write this one?”
What made you decide to work together on this project?
J: Back-to-back bête noirs. Thirty years of documentary filmmaking made Amber weary of having to raise the money for every new project before she could go to work. Twenty years of writing and re-writing one particular novel that refused to work (in between a bunch that did) made Justin decide that bringing Amber in could not possibly make its prospects any worse.
A: It’s possible also that Justin got tired of my endless suggestions: “How about making the hero a female?” “How about if the villain’s blind spot is his love for his wife?” Many experienced novelists would have said, “How about you write your own damn book?” Fortunately, he said, “Would you like to write this with me?”
How did you create a uniform voice throughout?
J: Ideally, every novel has its own voice. It’s the writer’s job to find it. When we found it for Forty Days and Forty Nights, uniformity came naturally.
A: Also, after living together for more than 25 years, we have become one of those couples who finish each other’s sentences. And we both had older parents who grew up on farms, so “country” expressions are part of our everyday conversation.
Amber, how did your work on your documentary about your Arkansas cousin and your personal connection to the Delta shape this story?
A: My documentary had nothing to do with the plot of Forty Days and Forty Nights, but it inspired the setting and many of our characters. Whenever I was down in Arkansas, I would be struck by the fact that the Mississippi River is so central to the economy, to agriculture, to transportation, to the entire identity of the region—but most people who live there never actually see the river. It’s walled off by levees, as if it’s a wild animal in a cage. Understandably, because it can be terrifying.
J: Occasionally accompanying Amber on Arkansas shoots as volunteer grip, driver, and sandwich assembler, I saw a region I had never seen before. Yet there was something familiar about it. The land was as flat and featureless and endless as the ocean where I had spent time researching my sea stories. And when I finally did get a look at the Mississippi River, I was home. Water is water—whether salt or fresh, whether driven by tides or currents—and it enjoys destruction. Boats are boats, whether propelled by wind or diesel, whether towed or pushed. And mariners are mariners, whether far from land or too close, who depend upon hard-earned skills, hard-won experience, and fine-tuned powers of observation to survive.
Amber, your background is in writing, directing, and producing television. What made you want to write a book? What was that transition like?
A: Storytelling is storytelling, and even in a non-fiction film you need conflict, tension, a vivid setting, and compelling characters who want something. But here’s the big difference: to create a scene in a film, you have to scout the location, hire a crew, get releases and clearances, shoot it all, and then edit it—often to discover it doesn’t work. To create a scene in a novel, I could simply type “aboard a large boat” or “in the middle of a driving rainstorm” and then make up all the action and characters’ dialogue. (You can’t make up dialogue in documentaries—at least I don’t.) If the scene on the page doesn’t work, all I’ve invested is my time—and Justin’s patience in reading it.
J: Even at my most patient I am still nowhere near as expensive as a film crew.
Who was your favorite character to write?
J: Clementine Price. Largely because of Amber’s strong suggestion we finally had a hero who was inside the story and directly affected. Instead of the standard thriller I had tried to write where the hero parachutes into town to save it, we have in Clementine a hero whose own home “town” is threatened. Having been flooded off her family’s farm and having dedicated her Army Corp of Engineers career to managing and protecting the Mississippi River makes her the ideal central pillar of our story.
A: I love Clementine obviously, but I also love Mary Kay, who developed from a two-dimensional plot device/saint/victim into a layered, principled woman of agency who literally practices what she preaches. And I have a great fondness for Captain Billy Scruggs, who came entirely from Justin’s imagination.
This story revolves around the Mississippi River and water. It’s a powerful, plot-driving force in the story. What inspired you to give it this role in your book?
J: The Mississippi River is Nature personified: bountiful, mysterious, capricious, and capable of massive destruction. I can think of no other force like it in Nature, none with such an enormous scope, none whose rampages have such lasting effects. But we learned from writing Clementine that the river can be an ally if humans truly understand it. That is ultimately how Clementine defeats Nathan.
Justin, you’ve written thirty-seven other novels. How do you feel like this one fits in with the rest of your work?
J: Those thirty-seven novels got me ready to collaborate with Amber on Forty Days and Forty Nights.
A: Thank you, darling, but may I add that Forty Days and Forty Nights is a showcase for all of Justin’s accumulated skills and innate talents: it’s a fast-paced thriller with lots of action—much of it on the water—requiring exceptional descriptive writing that never gets in the way of the plot or characters. And it’s a big sprawling story inside what we hope is a tight package.
What was your research process like for this novel? Complex subjects, like hydraulic engineering, drive much of the novel’s plot.
J: Fortunately, most of my thrillers are “research novels,” which sent me far afield reading, traveling, and talking to experts (unlike my mysteries which are set in my familiar haunts of New York City and small-town Connecticut and researched by looking out the window or visiting a friendly bar). I’ve done a bunch of historical novels set during the world wars in Europe and Russia and China. And the Isaac Bell novels I wrote with Clive Cussler take place during the early 1900s. All of which honed the research skills I learned in graduate school as a history major.
A: This was a big stretch for me, with no background in science. I read a ton of dense, dry treatises and then tried to translate it into simple prose with images and concepts that were arresting. I figured if I could picture it clearly myself, so would the reader.
Did this novel surprise you in any way? Were there any unexpected elements that crept their way into this story?
A: For me, every day of writing brought surprises. I’d always heard novelists say that their characters talk to them and darn if it isn’t true. It was like taking dictation sometimes: sermons, rap songs, pillow talk just poured onto the page. And not only did the characters speak to me, they made it very clear what they would and wouldn’t do. I fell in love with each of them—well, not Nathan, but he was very compelling to imagine.
J: I was surprised when I learned to like flashbacks (in moderation). And equally surprised to write a flashback scene between the villain and his dead grandmother. But, as Amber just pointed out, characters will say, and think, the darndest things.
The plot centers on a white supremacist plan to start an all-white nation. Why did you choose this to be the major threat of the novel?
J: The oldest trick to engage the reader is start with a character who wants something. It applies to villains as well as heroes. Nathan wants power; and he understands that hatred is what he can harness to achieve it, just as he harnesses the power of the river.
A: When we started writing this book in 2018, white supremacy was not so much in the headlines, but we knew it was simmering. We had no idea that by 2021 it would have boiled over to the extent it has.
Why did you decide to make Clementine—a woman with a military engineering career—your protagonist?
J: Clementine is uniquely qualified to battle the flood and the villain who weaponizes it. She joined the U. S. Army because the Army Corp of Engineers’ mandate is to “keep Mississippi River water in the shipping channels and off the farmers’ fields.” And she got herself to West Point Military Academy—the only way a poor farm girl could afford a first-class engineering education. But this woman is also “inside the story” emotionally. Clementine Price is more than a soldier and more than an engineer: She is a natural caretaker with a heartfelt vision to ally herself with the river to protect it and the people it threatens.
A: Clementine is also vulnerable—a rare trait in the (usually male) hero of a thriller. Her secret battle with PTSD, her internal conflict over the man she loves and the career she dreams of, and the deep losses she has sustained make her deeply human, even if she can sometimes call on super-human strength and smarts.
]]>Photo by Jeremiah Ariaz from Louisiana Trail Riders. Homer Decuir Jr. pictured center.
In 2018, Jeremiah Ariaz published his stunning photography collection, Louisiana Trail Riders, composed of images from African American Trail Riding Clubs. These clubs find their history in south Louisiana’s Creole culture, and Ariaz’s photos provide a look into this compelling, although too-often overlooked, tradition. While the COVID-19 pandemic may have affected their ability to gather, the people who are the heart of these celebrations have continued to keep their traditions alive. Recently, UL Press conducted interviews with Jeremiah Ariaz and Homer Decuir Jr. These interviews depict their experiences with the trail rides and provide greater context for the photos in Louisiana Trail Riders.
The exhibition Louisiana Trail Riders will be on view this summer at the Shreveport Regional Arts Council (June 18 – August 28) along with photographs and ephemera from some of Louisiana’s trail riding club members. The work will then travel to Portland, Oregon in 2022.
Additional information on the series is available at www.louisianatrailriders.com
How did you become involved with the trail rides? What made you interested in photographing them?
I became involved in the trails rides very much by chance. I was out for a Sunday motorcycle ride in the fall of 2014 and crossed paths with a trail ride on a winding country road near Grosse Tête. I pulled over for the riders to pass as I waited and watched I made a few pictures of the riders, who waved and nodded as they rode by. A gentleman at the end of the procession, Henry, invited me to join them, so I turned my bike around and rolled alongside. At the cookout after that ride, I was introduced to a number of riders and was given a Xeroxed flyer for the next weekend’s ride a few towns away. That led to the body of work, Louisiana Trail Riders.
I was really taken with the people I met that day—the sense of tradition, family, food, and music—so much of it felt familiar to my upbringing in rural Kansas, but it was an event unlike anything I’d experienced or even heard about, even after living in Louisiana for eight years at that point. I began researching the Creole history and horse culture. It seemed there might be an intersection with my longstanding interest in the iconography of the American West, and who and what is made visible or valued in our culture. I learned that the equestrian traditions in southwest Louisiana predated the cattle drives that gave rise to the iconographic figure of the cowboy.
How much time have you spent with trail riding groups and which groups have you spent time with?
I spent over four years of riding with and photographing the clubs in southwest Louisiana.
A different club will host a ride each week that all clubs are invited to join. Therefore, I wasn’t spending time with any one club on a regular basis, but over time, there were riders I became very familiar with. I became a pretty regular fixture at the trail rides. One of the DJ’s that accompanies the rides to play music from a mobile sound system would occasionally announce, "the picture man from Baton Rouge is riding with us today!"
How do individual trail riding groups differ from each other?
I always hesitate to speak for the riders because I’m not an expert by any means—I may be familiar, but I’m still an outsider. What I know is that some clubs are comprised of community members, some are groups of friends, some are largely based on family. Sometimes clubs have large memberships, but in the case of Homer, one rider I met, he said his club was just himself and his horses, the Bad Weather Stables. There are certainly nuances between the groups, but I got to know them as they intermingled and came together to ride horses, reconnect, and have a good time.
Do you have a favorite photograph from Louisiana Trail Riders?
It’s hard for me to point to just one photograph as a favorite. Various images have resonated differently with me over time. There are several images of fathers and sons that strike an emotional chord and get to the heart of what the work was about for me—family, kinship, traditions being passed down from one generation to the next.
What role do you want your photographs to play in drawing attention to these groups?
Do you find that participants in these groups are familiar with the history behind them? Is there any piece of that history you would like to share?
Numerous folks shared that they’d been on horseback for as long as they can remember and the tradition of riding had often been passed down generationally. At the time I began working on the project, I was surprised to find limited scholarship, in images or text, about the clubs and the culture. The rides are not "performed" for audiences like Mardi Gras parades, and therefore few photographs of the rides were out there. That’s one of the things I love abut them—they are Black people performing for each other rather than as a spectacle for a white audience. In addition, when I began the project in 2014, there was scarce material to be found and little attention paid to other Black equestrian traditions. In the years since the book was published (2018), there has been a cascade of stories about Black cowboys. Just yesterday the Washington Post ran a story, “The legacy of the Black cowboy has been overlooked” (4-25-21) about a young bull rider competing on the rodeo circuit. In March, Netflix released Concrete Cowboys about a century-long history in Philadelphia. It’s important to diversify the narratives about who we are as a country and I’m grateful to contribute to that expansion.
What is your favorite element of trail rides?
I grew up in rural Kansas and wasn’t a stranger to horses. I also love music, so having the worlds of horseback riding and zydeco come together felt like I’d stumbled onto a little piece of heaven. I so relished the joyful sprit of the riders and will forever be grateful for the generosity they showed me. One of the small things I tried to do was to make a print for everyone I photographed in the book. I took these with me to give away at the next rides and I loved that exchange—I still have a pretty large binder of photographs to hand out to people I’ve been unable to reach. If there is someone out there who appears in the book that hasn’t received a print, please contact me through my website, www.LouisianaTrailRiders.com. It’s been so much fun to do programming with the riders for exhibitions and have them present at book events and exhibition openings—especially when I showed the work at the ACA right there in southwest LA.
How long have you been a part of trail rides? Which group/groups have you been a part of?
I have been among the trail ride scene from about the age of nine years old. That’s where I really started to take to and found my deep love and passion for these horses.
I was a part of a group from my hometown in Cade, Louisiana. The trail ride community changes with the time, so people may tend to go different directions with the groups or whichever way of business they desire to follow within the trail ride community. Some may be “die hard” for the group they start with, but the foundation and love for the culture that we share will always be there.
What role do trail rides play in preserving often overlooked cultures and traditions within the community?
Trail rides play a role of joy, entertainment—being able to see the great live zydeco music, eat the large variety of foods, and see friends and family from all over the country that will come together over yearly traditions that we all share. After working hard at work . . . the trail ride atmosphere is like a peace of mind away from the world.
What impact has COVID-19 had on the community? Have you found ways to engage with each other safely?
COVID has played a major part in slowing down the events and made it more difficult to find a big venue for one of the larger populated trail rides . . . but we will overcome this time, it’s just a matter of staying positive. [Having] the backyard, small gathering rides that come together to keep it going while we go through this time is super helpful for sure.
How do you feel like the trail riding gatherings have changed over time?
The trail ride gatherings have changed very much over time, I would say, because back when I was younger it would be more of an older crowd, the generations before me. Now it’s more of the younger generations who have taken a view on the great times and enjoyment and understanding of what this culture is all about.
What is your favorite memory from a trail ride?
My favorite memory of a trail ride is probably having all of my favorite zydeco bands playing together on my favorite trail ride. I have been attending since I was a nine-year-old kid and now I am twenty-six.
Do you find that participants in these groups are familiar with the history behind them? Is there any piece of that history you would like to share?
Yes, the members of the groups support each other, meet new people all over, and share the purpose of the lifestyle we live. They created something when they began the groups and organizations they are in and [have been] promoting them after many years, watching the development of a group and how far they have come, good and bad. It’s something you must make happen as a unit, to bless and motivate the trail ride community to continue to keep our culture going for our kids and on as time passes.
What is your favorite element of trail rides?
My favorite element of the trail rides is the atmosphere of being surrounded by so many people that view and love this culture the same way as I do: the zydeco music, all the different horses . . . Many of us are blessed to have started businesses, as I have myself with Decuir Stables, gaited horse training originally started in my hometown Cade, Louisiana, now located in Houston, Texas. Just to be able to run ideas for overall growth in life across others that have the same vision of being as successful as possible.
The mother-daughter team behind Jean Laffite Revealed left no stone unturned while researching the infamous pirate, a man who deliberately made himself an enigma and left a wake of myths and legends about his life. Despite being faced with such a difficult research subject, Ashley Oliphant and Beth Yarbrough uncovered new evidence about Jean Laffite’s connection to a North Carolina man named Lorenzo Ferrer. Could Laffite have faked his death and settled in a new town under a new name? With such a mysterious and dynamic research subject, Jean Laffite Revealed is never dry—and certainly not your typical history book. Read the interview below to learn more about the authors and their investigative process.
What first inspired you to study Laffite? Did either of you have an interest in pirates before you got the idea to write this book?
Ashley: I have been interested in pirates since I was a child. I have read every pirate book I could get my hands on since kindergarten. I was always fascinated with Laffite because he was essentially the last pirate. The Golden Age of Piracy was long over when he started his business, so it was compelling to me that he managed to build the empire that he did. I was in the process of planning a Laffite biography when I decided that the local legend here in North Carolina about Lorenzo Ferrer might at least be worth passing mention. I enlisted the help of my mother in researching that angle for what was going to be a small chapter, and once new evidence began to emerge, seemingly everywhere we looked, we realized that this was the book.
What were the biggest challenges in your research?
We were faced with finding missing pieces of a puzzle that was centuries old. Additionally, the story involved a man who had gone into hiding and did not want to be found. He spent the bulk of his later life working very hard at making sure he didn’t leave a trail. What is more, the documents that were our sources of proof had survived wars, fires, floods, and careless treatment. A good portion of those documents also featured illegible handwriting and the natural effects of age on paper and ink. Most of these sources were also undigitized, and many of them were uncatalogued. That meant that even finding the right library or collection to search was sometimes an obstacle. Once we knew we were in a place where answers might reside, we were faced with hours of scanning and hunting. These libraries were also scattered all across the country, so we had to map out multiple research trips in a very strategic way.
What was it like writing this book as a mother-daughter team? Was this your first time working together on a project like this?
Beth: Yes, this was our first time working together as a team, but we quickly fell into a good routine. Ashley wrote some of the chapters in their entirety, while others were completely mine, and still others were collaborations, sometimes from one sentence to the next. We also edited and proofed each other’s drafts, which was a great help. It also didn’t hurt that our writing styles are very similar. The resulting book reads as if one person wrote it, and we are delighted with that.
What do you think about Laffite’s claim that he was not a pirate, but a privateer?
From what we can determine, Jean Laffite had a sizable ego. He did not take kindly to slights—whether perceived or overt. For instance, the wanted posters with his name on them that were distributed around New Orleans by Louisiana Governor Claiborne were answered in short order by wanted posters with Claiborne’s name on them, featuring the offer of a larger reward than the reward on the Laffite posters—ordered by Laffite himself and distributed under cover of night by his men. Understandably, a man with such an ego would have bristled at the suggestion that he was any kind of a crook. “Privateer,” to his mind, had a much nicer ring to it. He said as much in a now-famous letter to President James Madison, seeking restoration of his seized assets.
Why do you think people are so fascinated by Laffite and pirates in general? Were you surprised by how many things in Louisiana are named after Laffite?
Pirates in general hold fascination for a lot of people simply because of the glamour and mystery surrounding the various legends about their lives and pursuits and the notion of any hidden treasure they may have left behind. In more recent times, the entertainment industry has given an extra boost to the subject. Laffite, for instance, was glamorized in the 1958 film The Buccaneer. Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean also did not hurt the cause, introducing an entire new generation to the subject—casting them in an undeserved but very entertaining light. For Laffite’s part, we give him credit for the role that he played in the Battle of New Orleans—though the extent of that role is up for debate. Still, it was enough for Andrew Jackson to acknowledge, and that in itself is noteworthy. We are not surprised at the number of things named after Laffite in Louisiana. If anything, we were a bit surprised that there are not more.
What was the most interesting place you visited while traveling for your research?
There is no clear winner in that category, because each town and city holds its own unique charm. In terms of memorable encounters, we can name a few. Top of the list was a very prestigious university research library (not in Louisiana) that was ultra fastidious about visitors—issuing strict rules of behavior that bordered on the ridiculous. And as luck would have it, that was the very location that produced one of our most pivotal discoveries of evidence. When we found it, all rules went out the window. We literally jumped up in the middle of their hushed chamber and began shouting. They were not amused, and we didn’t much care. And then there was the herd of half a dozen wild pigs on a back road in rural Texas that surprised us as we rounded a curve one rainy afternoon. We were lucky that our car startled them and they scattered, although we still shudder to think who would have won had they decided to stand their ground. We’re guessing it would not have been us in our Prius. We were also very fortunate to be invited into the archives of our local Freemason lodge. Having a rare glimpse into that world was utterly amazing. We are very grateful that they approved our access by vote.
Ashley and Beth with their book and Jean Laffite's sword found at Lincoln Lodge 137
How do you feel like your background as an artist contributed to your work on this book?
Beth: This was my first research project, and while I had everything to learn about that process, I was also able to approach it with an added perspective. Artists by nature are creative thinkers. We eat, sleep, and breathe the notion “what if?” Time and again in our search for answers, my natural curiosity as an artist would allow me to think outside the box in terms of where we might look or why a certain thing might have happened in a certain way. And more than once, taking the “what if” as our starting point, we were able to apply tested research methods, aimed in unexpected directions, and come up with solidly documented answers. Creative writing has also been a lifelong pursuit of mine, even though this is my first published work. For instance, since 2013 I have published daily on my website “Southern Voice,” which highlights scenes and stories from around the South. Shouldering the responsibility of daily fresh content, all of it creative writing, was very good training in self-editing and task management, both of which served me well when we set out to write this book.
How do you feel like your work as an English professor contributed to your work on this book?
Ashley: The experience I gained in writing and publishing my previous four books definitely helped prepare me for the level of research that was required for this project. As well, the training I received from nearly twenty years of teaching in the college classroom was a tremendous asset. As a result, I came to this project with the set of necessary research skills to do it well. I knew how to push through and not let frustration overcome me when I hit an obstacle. I knew the value of undigitized and uncatalogued sources, as well as where to find them. I knew how to navigate academic research libraries and how to handle and examine fragile historical documents. Most importantly, I knew how to use the writing process that I had spent so many years teaching my students. This book is the result of a lot of prewriting, drafting, revising and editing. It was also a great joy to share this research experience with my students along the way. I want them to know what a thrill research is. There is so much yet to be discovered, and even when it comes to very old historical figures, there are new things to be said about them. This kind of work is an adventure, and I had a lot of fun sharing that passion with my students. I want them to follow their own passions and feel confident in launching into a full-scale research project if their curiosity is propelling them to do it. My motto has always been that you have to make your own fun because life will not do it for you.
Was there anything you really wanted to include in this book that you had to cut?
The entire period of Gulf history from 1810 through 1830 as it related to Laffite could have produced several more chapters as well as a more in-depth look at the forged journal. That journal deserves a book-length critical examination. Also, a lot of the genealogical details and timelines were fascinating and very useful for context, but we decided to pull them into appendices at the end of the book instead of including them in the body of the text. We also have plans for a sequel to this book because we know there is a lot more information yet to be uncovered. We came to a point where we had to stop and get the book published.
Jean Lafitte, by Alyce Martin, oil on devoe composition board, Courtesty of the Permanent Collection, Rosenberg Library, Galveston, Texas
What do we still not know about Jean Laffite? What makes him such a difficult research subject?
We still don’t know for sure where he was born or if Laffite was even his real name. There is a great deal to learn in Cuba where he went into hiding for a good number of years. We also have every reason to believe he was a Freemason. While we know he helped found a Masonic lodge later in life, we have yet to uncover the origins of his entry into that organization. Not only that, we believe there is much more to the story of how the Freemasons were involved in this tale from the beginning. As for the difficulty in researching any of this—the passage of time itself is our biggest obstacle and ongoing enemy. Researching a historical figure who lived so long ago is continually hampered by this—but even more so in the case of Laffite, who, after assuming his final alias, went to great pains not to leave a trail.
Do you have any plans for future books?
Yes. We already have enough material to form the bare bones of a sequel to this book. Additionally, we are working on a book about Key West—another location rich in seafaring history. Individually, Ashley has a novel in the works, and Beth is at work on a book featuring scenes and stories from around the South.
]]>Women’s history month is a time to celebrate the lives, contributions, and achievements of women across the country, and what better way to celebrate than by showcasing the voices and experiences of the women in our community? Women in Louisiana are in a unique position, as many of them try to bring to the forefront a historic yet shrinking culture of Cajun French speakers while also being agents of change and navigating what it means to be a woman. Ô Malheureuse highlights the experiences of French-speaking women in this state and preserves their writings for future generations. A small sample of those writings are presented here, along with videos show the faces behind the poems, songs, and stories in Ô Malheureuse. Look out for the next part of this blog series as there are more videos to come!
Une mer anglophone
Une mère anglophone
C’est meilleur en anglais
C’est mes erreurs anglaises
Ça me sert à quoi, l’anglais
À part Shakespeare et la survie?
Faulkner c’est bien, mais en anglais
On attend un tas de menteries
comme:
“You’ll confuse them. You’ll hold them back...”
et
“We have room for but one language in this country.”
An English-speaking sea
An English-speaking mother
It’s better in English
It’s my English mistakes
What use is English to me
other than Shakespeare and survival?
Faulkner’s nice, but in English
We hear a lot of lies
like:
“You’ll confuse them. You’ll hold them back…”
and
“We have room for but one language in this country.”
It leaves a bad taste
Even if in Faulkner there is
an eternal, awe-inspiring truth
I can find that same profundity
in the word “calimatcha”*
And calimatcha tastes better
But the cost?
It costs a lot these days
The ingredients: rice, meat, trinity…
and 5 years of your life learning to speak French.
That’s more expensive than saffron
More expensive than vanilla
*“Calimatcha,” also called “galimatias,” is the name of a rice and meat dish. It is not the sort of thing you would see on a restaurant’s menu, but it is the sort of quick meal women like my mother made for their families on a busy evening.
Rêver dans la nuit, les étoiles en haut
Glisser avec les ailes d’oiseaux.
Tu peux aller à la lune dans le ciel
Si tu veux une vie nouvelle.
Hey Charpentier, le monde tournait
Hey Charpentier, je voudrais prier.
Le vent d’été
M’apporté par l’hiver.
Je cours aux places que je connais
J’ai peur.
Hey Charpentier, le monde tournait
Hey Charpentier, je voudrais prier.
Ça c’est une chanson pour mon père. Son grand-père, John, est mort ce jour-là. John était un charpentier pour toute sa vie. Cette chanson est pour mon père parce qu’il était triste et je pense un peu perdu.
Dream in the night with the stars above
Glide with the wings of birds
You can go to the moon
If you want a new life
Hey Carpenter, the world turns
Hey Carpenter, I would like to pray
The summer wind
Brings me through the winter
I run to the places that I know
I am scared
by Barry Jean Ancelet and James Edmunds
This short title gives readers a glimpse into the history and customs of the Cajun Mardi Gras. While many are familiar with the revelry in New Orleans, the Cajun country celebrations are not as quickly recognized. During these festivities, organized groups led by a life-appointed capitaine go door-to-door on horseback, begging residents for ingredients for a communal gumbo. The most sought-after prize is a live chicken to be chased and caught by the riders. These celebrations, known as Courir de Mardi Gras, were almost lost until the 1950s, when an older member of the community was sought out for guidance on restoring them.
Barry Jean Ancelet discusses the details of these celebrations and offers insights into their development, looking all the way back to the ancient pagan rituals behind the customs. The book also contains a photo essay with images of past festivities, allowing us a look at the roots of the holiday and serving as a reminder of the importance of maintaining this heritage.
by Jeroen Dewulf
Larry Bannock, Chief of the Golden Star Hunters, on Mardi Gras. Photograph by Michael P. Smith (1983). Courtesy of the Historic New Orleans Collection.
The Mardi Gras Indians, with their complex rules and conventions, have long been a noteworthy part of the New Orleans ritual, but stories of their origins have been murky. Their history has largely been passed down orally by members of the groups. According to these stories, the tradition emerged from a friendship between Indigenous American groups and enslaved Africans.
In this work, scholar Jeroen Dewulf traces the dance and feathered headdress of the Mardi Gras Indians back to the sangamento war dance of the former Kingdom of Kongo. He links New Orleans’s Congo Square dances back to the Kingdom of Kongo and then shows the relationship between the Kongolese culture and Mardi Gras Indian customs. He draws connections to similar customs across the Caribbean and South American countries, demonstrating the depth, richness, and diversity of these Mardi Gras rituals.
edited by Marcia Gaudet and James McDonald
This collection of essays covers a broad range of issues in Louisiana culture and practices, including five essays on Mardi Gras. From an essay on the conflicting role of Mardi Gras as both a symbol of aristocratic divide and a method of bringing people together, to an essay on the tradition with ancient roots of men “hunting” younger teens in the country around Thibodaux, gently whipping them and urging them to repent for their sins—these thought-provoking essays cover the good, the bad, and the bizarre. They show the diversity of Mardi Gras celebrations across the state, covering the many regions and cultures that make Louisiana unique.
*Mardi Gras, Gumbo, and Zydeco is published by University Press of Mississippi—get it on Amazon!
By Sally Asher; Illustrations by Melissa Vandiver
This colorful romp through the city takes place deep in the Mississippi where the mermaids of New Orleans eat roe balls and host parades with floats pulled by alligators. The mermaids each have different jobs and talents, but they all have one thing in common—they spend Mardi Gras day on land! This vivid tale brings the spirit of New Orleans to life on the page and is an exciting way for children to experience Mardi Gras while they are unable to dance to the marching bands or catch beads in person.
]]>Paul Morphy vs. Löwenthal c. 1857, original photo by London Stereoscopic Company held at The Getty Museum
Just like Beth Harmon, Morphy began defeating older opponents at a young age. Born in 1837, Morphy gained attention at around the age of nine when he swiftly beat General Winfield Scott who had a reputation of being among the best of amateur players. By age twelve Morphy was playing the best contenders of New Orleans, including famed European player Eugène Rousseau. The publication of one of these games with Rousseau began Morphy’s rise to fame.
Morphy earned his law degree at the University of Louisiana (now Tulane University) but was not old enough to practice law, so he played chess in his free time. News of Morphy’s brilliance began to reach across the United States, and when the first national chess tournament was created, Morphy was persuaded into attending despite declining multiple times due to his father’s death a few months prior. During this First American Chess Congress, Morphy defeated every single challenger.
After winning the national tournament, Morphy immediately set his sights on Europe, not unlike Beth Harmon in The Queens Gambit. Morphy also began playing and winning blindfolded tournaments in which he often played eight opponents at one time while calling out his moves from across the room. Morphy became known as the world champion while he was still in his early twenties, yet never accepted the prize money for his victories.
But Morphy grew bored with the game, and his fame irked him. He stopped playing seriously in 1860 at only twenty-two years of age. The Civil War also caused him turmoil, as he felt conflicted over his loyalty to both the Union and Louisiana. After the war, Morphy attempted to practice law but had little success. He was renowned for his chess skills, not his law skills, and the public of New Orleans also questioned his dedication to the Confederacy, making him an unpopular choice for a lawyer.
Morphy’s law office also made him accessible to the public, and many wished to talk to him only about chess, which he deeply resented. The public criticized him for refusing money for the games he won. He grew withdrawn, angry, and suspicious, refusing to eat unless the food was prepared by his mother or sister. While in his forties, his family attempted to have him put in a Catholic institution for treatment, but he threatened to sue the nuns and they refused to take him. He became more delusional with time, asking people for loans and then refusing the money when it was offered. At the age of 47, he was found dead in his bathtub, having suffered a stroke.
Morphy’s madness has been a source of much consideration and theorizing. Since Morphy, other famous players have also become known for their troubled minds, causing an association between chess genius and madness. What toll does the mental strain of the game take on a player? Does a chess player require a certain propensity for madness and obsession to become a true master?
The Queen’s Gambit plays with this theme of chess madness as Harmon uses the game to cope with her life. You can read more about the parallels between Beth Harmon and Paul Morphy in this article by the New Yorker and learn more about Morphy’s genius and madness in Paul Morphy: The Pride and Sorrow of Chess.
]]>At UL Press, we have been working hard to provide lively and unique Louisiana-based children’s books to our readers. We are excited to share recently published titles such as When I Was an Alligator and The Adventures of Jeremy Goose, as well as many more wonderful works from previous years. We believe children’s books should not only be beautiful and entertaining but also make young readers excited about the state’s life, art, and culture. Explore our children’s titles below—from stories about how New Orleans mermaids spend their Mardi Gras and Christmastime to books about the unlikely friendship between a blind turtle and a baby crawfish with one claw—and find the perfect book for sharing a love of Louisiana with the kids in your life.
By Sally Asher; Illustrations by Melissa Vandiver
This enchanting story takes place deep in the waters beneath the North Pole, where Calliope Claus delivers gifts to mermaids all over the world. The task is no small one, but Calliope Claus has help from talented mermaids who artfully craft the gifts she delivers, as well as North Pole creatures who help her load and pull her skiff.
By Sally Asher; Illustrations by Melissa Vandiver
Deep in the Mississippi River lies the city where the Mermaids of New Orleans swim. These mermaids love any excuse to have a celebration, eating roeballs and dancing to the music of their favorite bass bands. Each mermaid is unique, with their own hobbies, jobs, and skills. One day every year, the mermaids come out of the Mississippi and live on land—and they choose Mardi Gras of course!
By Gayle Webre; Illustrated by Drew Beech
Explore with this Cajun kid as she transforms into unique creatures such as a heron, an owl, an opossum, and even a mosquito! Experience the sights and sounds of the Louisiana wetlands with her, learning about Louisiana coastal wildlife along the way.
By Denise Gallagher
BouZou, the musical hound dog, lives deep in the swamps of Louisiana and enjoys playing music for the bullfrogs, lightning bugs, and stars, when Slick Jim Jack the cat convinces him to bring his talent to the big city of New Aw-Leens. Find out what BouZou does with his newfound fame!
By Barry Jean Ancelet; Illustrations by Denise Gallagher
This adaptation of a Louisiana French folktale tells the story of Jean-le-Chasseur et ses chiens, or Jean the Hunter and his dogs. Jean loves to hunt, but when he meets an enchanting sorceress in the woods, only his loyal and beloved dogs can see her for what she really is, an evil and ugly witch who wants to kill him! English translations are provided in the back of the book.
By Zachary Richard; Illustrations by Sarah Lattès
When a blind turtle meets a baby crawfish who has just lost his claw in a hurricane, he sets off on a mission to find him a new one. Throughout their journey, the unlikely friends come across many strange creatures and face many trials, but also see marvelous sights and learn great lessons.
By Zachary Richard; Illustrations by Sarah Lattès
In this second book in the Adventures of L’il Red and Hopewell Green series, L’il Red the crawfish and Hopewell Green the blind turtle travel to the Great White North (Canada) after being shot into space by a supercharged hay baler! While there, they learn many things about the strange land, and L’il Red discovers his lobster cousins and learns the history of his deported family.
By Sylvaine Sancton
The Adventures of Jeremy Goose tells the story of a young goose who lives in Audubon Park. Jeremy learns about all the important things baby geese must learn, like how to eat grass, swim, and clean himself. He also encounters interesting neighboring animals, such as a squirrel, a snake, and a nutria. Throughout the book, Jeremy grows from a recently-hatched baby goose to almost as big as his dad!
By Richard Guidry; Illustrations by Réjean Roy
This is no ordinary alphabet book! This Abécédaire (ABC book) explores the wonders of the Louisiana French language and culture. Learn about S for the sac-à-lait that swim in the bayou and the sassafras leaves that hang in the trees! This book is excellent for anyone wishing to pass on Louisiana’s linguistic and cultural heritage.
By Paul Schexnayder
This tale tells the story of a king, a Trojan horse, and a blue monkey who explore the seas looking for treasures to share with their town. One day, they find an oak tree sapling and decide to nurture it, learning the joys of watching and helping a living thing reach its potential.
By Paul Schexnayder
When Queen Ida Peacock finds an entrancing, shimmery object, it causes envy to grow on her once peaceful island. Queen Ida must act quickly and use wisdom to make things right!
By Paul Schexnayder
Professor Flynn, a famous archaeologist and flying squirrel, becomes a detective when he finds out that the Legacy acorns have gone missing. Join him in his journey to retrieve these valuable acorns from the formidable B. J. Bandit.
]]>Dege Legg—aka Brother Dege—is a Grammy-nominated musician and award-winning writer. In his new book, Cablog: Diary of a Cabdriver, he recounts stories from his five years as a cabdriver on the night shift in Lafayette, Louisiana. This work of creative nonfiction provides glimpses into the highs and lows of the city’s underworld and into the lives of the downtrodden. Garden District Books in New Orleans is hosting a virtual launch party with Brother Dege and fellow author R. Reese Fuller on Thursday, November 12th at 6 PM CT. Learn more and register for the Zoom event at the following link: Garden District Book Shop Virtual Launch Party.
This is the end of the line. I’m living in a cheap motel in Lafayette, Louisiana. Room #109. $165/week. I’ve got $81 in my pocket and no job. Most of the residents are tenured alcoholics. They drink cheap beer, meander around the parking lot, and blow smoke into the hole where expectations go to die as the cable TV flutters and the passing traffic growls.
There is nothing to do here but poke through the rubble of dead dreams. It is here in these motels that capitalism crashes into the sad reality of losers on the ragged journey to rock bottom. It’s the last stop before homelessness, one hundred yards from the train tracks. It is here that your dinner drops from a coin-fed vending machine. It is here that America comes to die or to hide from the inevitable.
This place is like an abandoned carnival ride half-buried in the sand. It’s all here, leaning into the clock and slipping away. Nobody cares. Or pretends to care. They just exist and survive, as prostitutes swat flies and junkies wander the sun-bleached concrete and ex-carnies belch behind the Molotov drapes and dig through the archeological trash of a past life, waving at ghosts, puffing on cheap cigarettes and cheaper beer.I write my name on the night shift driver roster and wait around the day room. Drivers mull around, smoking cigarettes, making small talk. Day drivers return from their shifts. They walk in and hand their keys to the shift leader who promptly passes them to the next night driver in line who promptly walks out the door to begin his or her shift.
Eventually, I am assigned a cab. I walk out into the afternoon daylight and locate my cab for the evening. I inspect it, checking the lights, oil, interior, exterior, and all the other things mentioned during my driver orientation. After strapping in and starting the cab, I key the mic on the CB radio and alert the dispatcher that I am “10-5” (empty and available for calls).
“10-4, Number Four.”
The dispatcher sends me on a series of short calls. Within the first two hours, I quickly learn it is a madhouse out there. Customers getting [messed] up. Drugged up. Cracked up. Drunk. And whatever else they can think of. It’s humanity in its strangest and most ridiculous modern incarnation. Just as Billy, my trainer, had predicted, the dispatchers give me a hard time.
On my fourth call of the night, a man loads a giant TV into the backseat of the cab and asks that I take him to a motel.
I raise an eyebrow and roll with it. When we arrive at the motel, the man’s contact does not want to buy the TV, which means the guy does not have the money to pay me for the fare.
This is my real first lesson on the job: if a customer cannot pay the fare, the driver must pay it. That’s the rule at the cabstand. The driver eats any loses, aside from being robbed. No exceptions.
I shake my head and leave the guy in a parking lot. But I keep the TV as collateral and drive off with it, TV wobbling around like a whale in the back seat of the cab.
When I arrive, three women attempt to get in the cab. They see the massive TV in the backseat.
“Oh, no, honey. We can’t fit in there.”
I exit the cab, remove the TV from the back seat, and leave it on the curb. Merry Christmas to someone out there. I roll on, fielding calls and bouncing around the city, slowly getting the feel of the job. I’m sent into neighborhoods and down strange backstreets that I’ve never even heard of. You can never know all of a city. There’s always more to the mystery. It’s everywhere. Around every corner. You pass it every day. But you don’t notice it until you have to stop and look at it.
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Zella Palmer’s Recipes and Remembrances of Fair Dillard, 1869–2019 is more than an ordinary cookbook; it is a testament to history and tradition. Palmer describes the heritage of Dillard University in the book, but the recipes themselves are also evidence of the richness of a growing and evolving culture. Matt Hackler, VP of Strategic Capacity Development for Feeding America, recently had the chance to discuss the book with Palmer. They consider the role of food in the community and culture of Dillard University, the ways food brings people together, and the function of food in times of crises. They also talk about a subject that is controversial across Louisiana: gumbo. Almost everyone in Louisiana has strong opinions on how gumbo should be made, in part because the dish is so treasured. Recipes and Remembrances of Fair Dillard contains several gumbo recipes, including Palmer’s own seafood gumbo recipe. Watch their discussion below and then try Palmer’s personal take on the dish during the fall and coming winter months.
INGREDIENTS:
DIRECTIONS:
Devein and peel shrimp. Cook seasoned chicken thighs (without skin) in a little oil. Remove bones, skin, and chop in chunks. Cut crabs in half. Roll hot sausage links into bite size meatballs. Chop smoked sausage into bite sizes. Mince onion, bell peppers, and celery. Set aside. In a large stockpot, make a roux with butter or oil and flour until it turns to the color of a copper penny. Add Holy Trinity (chopped onion, bell peppers, and celery). Season with favorite seasoning. Cook until vegetables are tender. Add seafood stock. Bring the stock to a boil. In a pan, cook the hot sausage meatballs until cooked. Drain oil. Add the chopped smoked sausage and hot sausage to the stockpot. Add minced garlic. Cook for an hour. Season. Add crabs. Turn off the stove and add shrimp, bay leaf, and a teaspoon of filé. Cover. Serve with cooked rice or a dollop of potato salad.
]]>Hurricane Delta and the Covid-19 pandemic have been unable to stop Festivals Acadiens et Créoles, although this year's festival will have a unique place in history as the first to be held virtually. The festival itself is a cooperative of three independent festivals: the Louisiana Native and Contemporary Crafts Festival, the Festival de Musique Acadienne, and the Bayou Food Festival. In One Generation at a Time, Barry Jean Ancelet and Philip Gould recount the history of the Festival de Musique Acadienne, stressing its power to preserve the Cajun and Creole cultures. The first excerpt below depicts the original Tribute to Cajun Music that later grew into the Festival de Musique Acadienne. The subsequent excerpts capture scenes of celebration and interesting moments in the festival’s history.
Dusty Dancers, 1991, One Generation at a Time
"The first Tribute to Cajun Music concert was held in Blackham Coliseum in part to prevent the audience from dancing. Dewey Balfa, who had considerable experience playing in festivals and folk music concerts by then, suggested that the audience would hear the music in a different way if they were not allowed to dance as they usually did. Several other venues were considered, including the theater in the University of Southwestern Louisiana Student Union (which seated around 350) and the Lafayette Municipal Auditorium (now the Heymann Performance Center, which seated near 3,000). The Blackham Coliseum, with a capacity of 8,400, was selected for several reasons. Based on word-of-mouth reactions leading up to the event, organizers felt increasingly confident that there would be a significant response from the community. And Blackham, which also regularly hosted USL basketball games and rodeos, would be a more familiar context for the mostly rural Cajun and Creole audience members that would likely attend. That night, an overflow crowd of nearly 12,000 packed into the coliseum, filling all bleacher seats, all additional temporary floor seats, and all available standing room only spaces, despite the best efforts of law enforcement officials and fire marshals and despite a terrible storm that raged throughout most of the afternoon and evening, causing considerable local flooding. Performers volunteered their services. No one was paid, no one received even expenses to come. This represented a remarkable investment in the concept, especially for established performers such as Clifton Chenier and Jimmy C. Newman, who could have earned considerable sums for performing elsewhere that night."
"It turns out that this was a banner year for new introductions. This marked the first appearance for Ward Lormand’s Filé, for Bruce Daigrepont’s Bourré, and for Wayne Toups. Festival organizers were intent on showing the continuing vitality of Cajun music. All three groups electrified the crowds in different ways and were called back for encores. Ward Lormand formed his group after several years of apprenticeship in the deliberately regressive Cush-Cush. With Filé, he began to explore some of the opportunities for fusing the modern and the traditional in Cajun music. Bruce Daigrepont had discovered Cajun music at a previous festival and decided he wanted to perform the music of his heritage. With Bourré, he too began exploring the possibilities of creating within the tradition. A veteran of the young Cajun musician contests of the 1970s, Wayne Toups was just on the verge of launching his ZydeCajun experiment. He was so nervous before his set that he warmed up and tuned up without ever looking directly at the crowd. Once introduced, he started his performance still looking side-stage. When it came time to sing, he turned suddenly to face the microphone and the crowd, slipping his left hand out of the bass side of his accordion and letting the centrifugal force finish the draw on the bellows. When asked about this later, he explained that it was simply a case of nerves: “I was afraid that if I looked at that huge crowd before I had to sing, I might not be able to get my song out, so I just waited until the last second before turning to face them.” The dramatic effect of the gesture thrilled the crowd as did the rest of his performance."
Dewey Balfa and Robert Jardell, 1980s, One Generation at a Time
"This marked the first appearance by Kristi Guillory and Réveille, the Basin Brothers, and Jason Frey and the Cajun Rhythm Aces. The California Cajun Orchestra, led by Danny Poulard, paid a visit to remind the crowds of the popularity of Cajun and Creole Music among Louisiana ex-patriots living on the West Coast. Richard LeBoeuf was scheduled to perform just after a reunion of his hero and mentor Aldus Roger and his legendary Lafayette Playboys. This also marked the first festival appearance for Balfa Toujours, the group led by Dewey Balfa’s daughters Christine and Nelda. It was an emotionally charged experience for the members of the band, for the stage crew, and for the crowd as the critically and historically important Balfa name returned to the festival after a one-year hiatus following Dewey’s death in 1992. Zachary Richard also dropped in to sing a few songs between sets, including a rousing version of “Réveille.” When he first performed this musical manifesto at the second concert in 1975, the crowd wondered what it was all about. This time—the first time he performed the song in public in Louisiana since then—the crowd sang along, clear evidence that things have changed since those early years."
]]>Louisiana's wetlands are unique and vital to so many species, but they are quickly disappearing. Gayle Webre and Drew Beech’s new children’s book, When I Was an Alligator, is a work of art featuring a Cajun kid who transforms into many wetland animals and insects while she is sleeping. Not only is the book engaging and beautiful, it is also educational. Webre spent about a year researching wetland wildlife before writing the book to ensure that exploring with this curious Cajun kid would be a fun way to learn about the plentiful and distinctive life on Louisiana’s coast. The end of the book includes facts about the wetlands and questions for curious kids to ponder. Below are more facts about the fascinating wildlife featured in When I Was an Alligator to share with curious kids of all ages!
Although alligators are slow on land, their long, strong tails enable them to quickly propel themselves through water. Alligators are also great mothers. After baby alligators hatch, the mother carries the babies in her mouth and puts them in the water. The babies stay with their mother for at least a year, but some live with her for as much as three years! A crucial fact about alligators is that they make holes, called alligator holes, in the wetlands that stay filled with water during the dry season. These holes are important because other wetland creatures use them to stay safe. Alligators were endangered for a long time because hunters valued them, but the state and federal government protected them and now they are thriving again. Alligators must be kept safe because the wetlands need the alligators almost as much as the alligators need the wetlands.
"Alligator" by Allen McGregor, licensed under CC BY 2.0
Herons need the wetlands because they like to hunt in shallow water. They wade carefully and gracefully through the water, standing perfectly still for long periods of time until they see a fish or other small creature to eat, and then they often swallow it whole. Herons also like to make their nests in tall trees, sometimes nesting in large groups. They are migratory birds and spend the seasons in different regions. Herons can be found all over the United States, in southern Canada, and even sometimes in Central and South America.
"Heron" by Eric Frommer, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0
Opossums are North America’s only marsupial, which means they carry their babies in a pouch. They like to stay near permanent sources of water, like the wetlands, but opossums are not picky! They will live in lots of different places like in a log or under a porch. Opossums are also foragers and will eat almost anything they find. You might find them trying to eat your garbage, but they also eat fruit, insects, eggs, birds, and other small animals. They support the environment by eating pests, including ticks, and they are immune to most venoms, so they eat things like snakes and scorpions. Opossums sometimes pretend to be sick or dead when they’re scared, confusing their predators and keeping them safe. Their tails act as extra hands; they use them to climb and carry things. Sometimes, young opossums even use them to hang upside down from tree branches!
"Opossum" by Mike Keeling, licensed by CC BY-ND 2.0
Snapping turtles have pointy, triangular heads and strong jaws. Alligator snapping turtles can be huge, and their spiny faces and shells make them look like dinosaurs. During the day, alligator snapping turtles like to hide at the bottom of the deepest part of a body of water. Their spiny shells make them look like logs sitting on the floor, successfully camouflaging them. These turtles have a secret weapon—their tongue looks like a worm! When they are hungry, they open up their mouths and unsuspecting creatures swim inside to try to eat their worm-like tongue. Female turtles sometimes go onto dry land to bury their eggs. If you see one, you should leave it alone! Their bites are dangerous, but luckily, they don’t usually attack humans
"Alligator Snapping Turtle (Macrochelys temminckii)" by Peter Paplanus, licensed under CC BY 2.0
American Alligator - National Park Service
Macey Ory, author of this post, is one of the new graduate assistants at UL Press. She received a bachelor’s degree in English at Louisiana Tech University and is currently studying English with a concentration in professional writing at UL. She was born and raised in the greater New Orleans area and has a passion for all of Louisiana culture. She misses New Orleans food more than almost anything (besides her big, party-loving New Orleans family), and writing this blog post made her crave snowballs like crazy!
Growing up, I didn’t realize how blessed I was to live in the Greater New Orleans area. Oddly enough, I had this epiphany at the most magical place on earth: Disney World.
As we sat at one of the park’s many restaurants, I saw a few families with what I thought were beautiful—therefore obviously tasty—snowballs. They were presented in cute, plastic containers, perfectly rounded on top, with syrup poured in three precise, colorful stripes over the ice. My little sister and I begged our parents to buy us one, but they protested.
“That is not a snowball. That’s shaved ice. It’s not like the stuff at home and you’re not going to like it.”
The incredibly fine ice in this cotton candy cream snowball from Rodney's in New Orleans East is some of the best around. Image courtesy of Megan Braden-Perry, author of Crescent City Snow.
My parents raised my sister and me on New Orleans-style snowballs. My childhood summers were spent running around in the yard, in the sprinklers, or by the lake. After a long day playing outside in the beating sun and humidity so thick I felt like I needed gills, snowballs were the perfect treat. They were fantastic when it was hot, but they were also irresistible as I stepped, shivering, out of the sprinklers and into the AC. My favorite flavor as a little kid was classic spearmint—or as I called it, spear-a-mint. The sugary-sweet and minty-fresh syrup was poured over ice so fine that it immediately melted in my mouth. The syrup was dense and packed with flavor. If the ice melted before I could finish eating, I drank what was left with a straw.
But these perfectly packaged Disney snowballs were so pretty, and I had to have one.
Eventually my parents gave in to our pleas, as parents in Disney World often do, and they bought us both these “snowballs.” After two bites, we realized our mistake.
Despite their enticing appearance, these snowballs didn’t taste magical. The ice was not fine as it is in the New Orleans-style snowballs—it was chunky and crunchy. The syrup went through the ice and straight to the bottom of the cup, instead of evenly distributing and shimmering on top. The syrup also wasn’t as thick and flavorful; it quickly became watered down and was even less appealing when we tried sipping through a straw.
The most magical place on earth was not quite as magical as home could be. We did not finish our shaved ice, and our parents never let us forget it.
Each of these three snowballs from Sal's Sno-Balls in Metairie is a different flavor and topped with condensed milk. Image courtesy of Megan Braden-Perry, author of Crescent City Snow.
As an adult, I’ve come to see how difficult it can be to find a decent snowball outside of New Orleans. Years later, when I moved away from home, I realized that the snowballs of my childhood can be just as elusive in other parts of the state as they were in Disney World.
On a recent trip home, I had a different flavor of snowball almost every day of the week. Strawberry stuffed with vanilla ice cream eventually surpassed spearmint as my favorite, but recently I’ve begun to crave wedding cake flavor, the preferred choice of my mom and grandma. I stick to classic flavors, sometimes adding something creamy like condensed milk or ice cream. My adventurous little brother, on the other hand, will try anything, but particularly loves sour and candy options.
This Atomic watermelon snowball from Hansen's Sno-Bliz is loaded with cream, crushed pineapple, marshmallow fluff, and ice cream. Hansen's Sno-Bliz is the oldest New Orleans snowball stand and is just as delectable today as it was eighty-one years ago. Image courtesy of Megan Braden-Perry, author of Crescent City Snow.
In New Orleans, snowballs are an integral part of summertime, and the summers last almost all year. The snowball stands seem to compete over who can achieve the powderiest, snow-like ice, and who can come up with the most delicious and creative flavors and toppings. What we lack in snow from the sky, we make up for in flavored snow in a cup.
To read more about New Orleans snowballs, check out Megan Braden-Perry’s book, Crescent City Snow. She visits some of the best snowball stands around the city and captures the culture surrounding snowballs in New Orleans. She has some fantastic suggestions for flavors to try and includes several pages where you can record your own trips to genuine New Orleans snowball stands. Try a new flavor while the weather is still warm!
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The Southern whites, in no spirit of hostility to the Negroes, have insisted that the two races shall live separate and distinct from each other in all things, with separate schools, separate hotels and separate cars. They would rise to-morrow against the proposition to educate the white and black children together; and they resist any intercourse in theatre, hotel or elsewhere that will bring the race into anything like social intercourse. The quarter of a century that has passed since the war has not diminished in the slightest degree the determination of the whites to prevent any such dangerous doctrine as social equality, even in the mildest form. They give the Negroes schools; but these must be separate; and the cars also should be separate, in order to keep the races as far apart as ever. We cannot afford to surrender anything in this case.The law—private not public—which prohibits the Negroes from occupying the same place in a hotel, restaurant or theatre as the whites, should prevail as to cars also. As a matter of fact, one is thrown in much closer communication in the car with one’s traveling companions than in the theatre or restaurant with one’s neighbors. Whites and blacks may there be crowded together, squeezed close to each other in the same seats, using the same conveniences, and to all intents and purposes in social intercourse. A man that would be horrified at the idea of his wife or daughter seated by the side of a burly Negro in the parlor of a hotel or at a restaurant cannot see her occupying a crowded seat in a car next to a Negro without the same feeling of disgust.The Louisiana Senate ought to step in and prevent this indignity to white women of Louisiana, as the Legislatures of other Southern States have done.It is not proposed to refuse the Negroes any right to which they are entitled. They are to have the same kind of cars, but separate ones. The man who believes that the white race should be kept pure from African taint will vote against that commingling of the races inevitable in a “mixed car” and which must have bad results. . . .
Senator Henry Demas, artist unknownMr. President, the bill which we now have under consideration is one that, in my opinion, has not been properly framed. This is obvious to all who will read it carefully over. It places the entire Negro race upon one common level and makes no distinction between the ignorant and the illiterate, and those who, by education, refinement and culture, have raised themselves above the standard of their race. This bill, also, Mr. President, panders to class legislation,—and, by two sharply drawing the line between the races, destroys that harmony which should exist at all times between them. It is an undeserved stigma upon the Negro. The prosperity of Louisiana depends in a great measure upon his industry and toil. . . .
Mr. President, this State is peopled by a far larger number of cultured and wealthy colored people than is conjectured, and, owing to the intermingling of the raises, it is not frequently a difficult matter to determine,—from a standpoint of color,—the white from the Negro. Would it not be unjust, I ask, to relegate this class to a coach occupied by those much inferior to them in life, and by thus doing humiliate a people accustomed to better surroundings. It would be forcing them to associate with the worst class of Negro element, and would be an unmerited rebuke upon the colored man of finer sensibilities. . . .
Mr. President, the occurrences of the past by which we should be guided, I believe, and which should prove a forecast for the future, show that the Negro is coming to the front rapidly. Twnety-five years ago when the yoke of slavery was removed from him, the Negro was an ignorant, illiterate and unenlightened man; with praiseworthy ambition, he resolutely set to work to ameliorate his condition and, if coming events cast their shadows before, the next decade will witness a remarkable change for the better in his moral and mental condition. He may be trampled upon by arbitrary laws, but his advancement to a higher plan of citizenship and civilization cannot be checked. Persecution cannot down him, and in his invincible march to a better and more elevated goal, his advancement has been steady and continuous.
Mr. President, who are the enemies of the colored people? Is it the educated and refined white? No, it is that class who have no social or moral standing in the community where they live, and therefore they with keen sensibility feel their inferiority, and to acquire cheap notoriety they are willing to resort to any measure, they care not how insignificant, perfidious, or oppressive it may be against the Negro, in order to carry out their unholy and hellish designs. . . .
Like the Jews we have been driven from our homes and firesides, from our churches and school-houses, [from] our civil and political liberties, and from the elevated avenues of livelihood, and now in order to reach the lowest depth of infamy, in order to surpass all other indignities heaped upon us, you are willing to forget you are men and vote for the passage of this bill.
Mr. President, when this bill shall have passed it is the last indignity left for you to [heap] upon us. You have exhausted every indignity, you have inflicted upon us every oppression known to your race, and we have born it with patience unknown to other races without a single word of resentment, because we desired the security of peace, prosperity and happiness for all. But the time will and must come in our case, as it has in the history of other races, when we will rise and strike, for our liberties, let the chips fly where they may or consequences be what they will.
It was said in argument that the statute of Louisiana does not discriminate against either race but prescribes a rule applicable alike to white and colored citizens. But this argument does not meet the difficulty. Everyone knows that the statue in question had its origin in the purpose, not so much to exclude white persons from railroad cars occupied by blacks, as to exclude colored people from coaches occupied by or assigned to white persons. Railroad corporations of Louisiana did not make discrimination among whites in the matter of accommodation for travelers. The thing to accomplish was, under the guise of giving equal accommodations for whites and blacks, to compel the latter to keep to themselves while traveling in railroad passenger coaches. No one would be so wanting in candor as to assert the contrary. The fundamental objection, therefore, to the statue is that it interferes with the personal freedom of citizens. . . . If a white man and a black man choose to occupy the same public conveyance on a public highway, it is their right to do so, and no government, proceeding alone on grounds of race, can prevent it without infringing the personal liberty of each. . . .
The white race deems itself to be the dominant race in this country. And so it is, in prestige, in achievements, in education, in wealth, and in power. So, I doubt not, it will continue to be for all time, if it remains true to its great heritage and holds fast to the principles of constitutional liberty. But in the view of the Constitution, in the eye of the law, there is in this country no superior, dominant, ruling class of citizens. There is no caste here. Our Constitution is color-blind and neither knows nor tolerates classes among citizens. In respect of civil rights, all citizens are equal before the law. The humblest is the peer of the most powerful. The law regards man as man and takes no account of his surroundings or of his color when his civil rights as guaranteed by the supreme law of the land are involved. . . .
The arbitrary separation of citizens, on the basis of race, while they are on a public highway, is a badge of servitude wholly inconsistent with the civil freedom and the equality before the law established by the Constitution. It cannot be justified upon any legal grounds.
If evils will result from the commingling of the two races upon public highways established for the benefit of all, they will be infinitely less than those that will surely come from state legislation regulating the enjoyment of civil rights upon the basis of race. We boast of the freedom enjoyed by our people above all other peoples. But it is difficult to reconcile that boast with the state of the law which, practically, puts the brand of servitude and degradation upon a large class of our fellow citizens, our equals before the law. The thin disguise of “equal” accommodations for passengers in railroad coaches will not mislead anyone, nor atone for the wrong this day done.
The Louisiana law which requires that the railways operating trains within the limits of the State shall furnish separate but equal accommodations for white and Negro passengers was passed upon in the Supreme Court of the United States, and was yesterday declared to be constitutional.The decision holds that the statute in question does not abridge any of the constitutional privileges and immunities of the plaintiff, because it does not create any inequality between the citizens of the State and the citizens of the United States, or between citizens of different race or color. It provides equal privileges to all on all the railroads engaged in intrastate transit. It does not discriminate unfairly between citizens of the United States or between citizens of the State, of whatever color or race. It was legislation which it was competent for the State to enact as within the police power. The Supreme Court has held that the legislature determines the necessity for, and the courts the proper subject for, the exercise of the police power which extends to the protection of the lives, limbs, health, comfort, morals and quiet of society, private interests being subservient to the public.As there are similar laws in all the States which abut on Louisiana, and, indeed, in most of the Southern States, this regulation for the separation of the races will operate continuously on all lines of Southern railway. Equality of rights does not mean community of rights. The laws must recognize and uphold this distinction; otherwise, if all rights were common as well as equal, there would be practically no such thing as private property, private life, or social distinctions, but all would belong to everybody who might choose to use it.This would be absolute socialism, in which the individual would be extinguished in the vast mass of human being, a condition repugnant to every principle of enlightened democracy.
Text Sources:
Document Image Source: National Archives, Public Domain
David Spielman has lived in New Orleans for decades, and yet he still discovers new things in the city. This summer, UL Press is proud to announce his latest collection of photographs highlighting the people and places that make the Crescent City so beloved by denizens and visitors alike.
UL Press (ULP): How did you get started in photography? Have you always wanted to do this?
David Spielman (DS): As a 15-year-old high school student, after swim team workout, I noticed a couple of seniors at their lockers looking at their cameras. They were in the camera club, though I didn’t know that at the time. Walking over to them, I was curious, and asked if I could have a look. Tolerating a sophomore, they allowed me to hold and look through the camera. In that instant I knew I wanted to be a photographer. That is how I found photography. To go by this line, sometimes attributed to Mark Twain, “The two most important days in your life are they day you were born and the day you find out why.” I am very lucky. I learned “why” very early in my life.
ULP: What is the central theme of New Orleans Portrayed? How did you put this collection of photographs together?
DS: My focal point was the 300th anniversary of New Orleans. The idea was to try and create a window for future generations to see what New Orleans looked like at this point in its history. New Orleans has been my home for over forty years, but I wanted to try to look at it with fresh eyes, digging deeper and exploring new areas; turning left instead of right; traversing the city at different times and during various weather conditions. In our ever-changing world, I wanted to capture some of the unique faces and places that make New Orleans so different and special. So, I spent over a year crisscrossing the city looking and re-looking at what I knew and didn’t know.
"French Bread, French Quarter" -- Photo by David Spielman, all rights reserved.
ULP: Why did you decide to use black and white film for this project? How does that affect the images?
DS: I find color to be distracting. If someone is wearing a red dress or a bold patterned shirt, your eye travels there first, possibly keeping you from looking and appreciating the full composition. Also, sadly, color isn’t permanent, the color prints and negatives will fade in a few years. Black and white is archival. Robert Frank, a renowned photographer, said, “Black and white are the colors of photography. To me they symbolize the alternatives of hope and despair to which mankind is forever subjected.”
ULP: Why do you think people continue to be fascinated with New Orleans? What draws you to the city?
DS: For all intents and purposes, living in New Orleans doesn’t make sense. Hurricanes are a constant threat. We live below sea level, in high humidity, and tolerate miserably hot summers. Having said that, there isn’t any place that offers up the diverse food, music, architecture, people, and characters that are found here. We forget the downsides with so many upsides to life in this city.
"Street Car and Tracks" -- Photo by David Spielman, all rights reserved.
ULP: New Orleans was hit especially hard by the coronavirus. What is life like in the city today, and how does that affect your work?
DS: Yes, we have been hit hard because of our local lifestyle with festivals each weekend and our need to be social at every turn. We are a tourist town, so the pandemic has truly flattened the economy for the whole industry and most types of businesses. We have all had to change our ways. I have been spending my time trying to find pictures that tell the COVID-19 story. It is difficult to find anything unique because everyone in this country and around the world are in the same boat. On the positive side, the French Quarter has never looked better. The streets are clean, there's no litter, and it's quiet. However, that in itself doesn’t make a very compelling picture. To me, it has taken on the feel of a sci-fi movie, where space creatures have captured the population. I feel like I am on a movie set and everyone is inside waiting for the director to yell “action!” Then, everyone pours out of the doors and music starts, and so on.
ULP: How does New Orleans Portrayed compare to your other books?
DS: It's similar in many ways, because they all have themes and cover certain topics. But New Orleans Portrayed has a lot more elements and levels to it. It was like putting together a puzzle; all the little parts had to fit together to create a larger, well-balanced body of work. I am very pleased with the final product.
"Fair Grounds Race Course, Gentilly" -- Photo by David Spielman, all rights reserved.
ULP: Who are your artistic or photographic influences? Who or what inspires you?
DS: I’m inspired by and drawn to all kinds of artists: writers, painters, musicians, chefs, and so on. Each form has its own disciplines and variations that set it apart. I’m always looking, listening, and feeling what I can and learning so much from how practitioners execute their craft. Photographers from the WPA, Walker Evans, Dorothea Lange, Gordon Parks, French photographers Henri Cartier-Bresson, Doisneau, and Brassai have all inspired me greatly. Writers like Hemingway, David McCullough, Walter Isaacson. Musicians such as Miles Davis, Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, the Beatles—not forgetting Bach, Beethoven, and many others. The point of is that I listen to, look at, and try and absorb and draw upon all this talent and do my part to add to the richness of it.
"United Cab Company, Central City" -- Photo by David Spielman, all rights reserved.
ULP: What kind of camera equipment do you use? Why?
DS: Leica M cameras, because they are small and quiet, and they have great optics. They allow me to be and shoot almost anywhere without drawing attention to my work and myself.
ULP: In addition to photography, you also give lectures and presentations. What advice do you have for those who are interested in photography but not sure how or where to get started?
DS: My advice is to take pictures, lots of pictures from lots of angles; look at all kinds of pictures trying to figure out what you like and don’t like—all the while trying to find your visual voice.
ULP: Where can people see more of your work?
DS: The best place to see my work is in my gallery, located in the Garden District of New Orleans across for the famous Commander’s Palace Restaurant, 1332 Washington Avenue, 70130. Or they can visit my website, DavidSPIELMAN.com
About New Orleans Portrayed, from David Spielman:
Dorothea Lange said, “Photography takes an instant out of time, altering life by holding it still.” My job as a photographer is not to direct or manipulate a picture, it’s to capture something that presents itself to me The architecture, light, shapes and people have to come together in a special way within the boundaries of my viewfinder. A good photograph is the culmination of life lived, books read, music heard, food eaten, and experiences had.
New Orleans Portrayed represents thousands of hours of wandering and wondering, with good days and bad light, with bad days and good light. Photographers don’t find the picture; pictures find the photographer. As Walker Evans said, “Good photography is unpretentious.” These ideas continue to inspire and drive my work.
About David Spielman:
Originally from Tulsa Oklahoma, David Spielman has called New Orleans home for the past four decades. He has worked on photographic assignments on six continents, ranging from fine art to hard news photographs published in books and journals. His work has been exhibited in such venues as the Historic New Orleans Collection, the Margaret Mitchell House, the Ogden Museum of Southern Art, and the Whatcom Museum. His previously published books include: Southern Writers, Katrinaville Chronicles, When Not Performing, and The Katrina Decade. In 2016, Spielman was awarded the Louisiana Endowment of the Humanities Documentary Photographer of the Year award. In addition to photography, Spielman often gives lectures and presentations about his work, offering a very personal view of his New Orleans.
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With schools closed and social distancing recommendations in place, many parents have now taken on the additional role of teacher. Because of this, cross-curricular activities have newfound importance in many households. Margaret Simon’s beautiful collection of poems and activities entice readers of all ages to develop their poetic and artistic skills while exploring the different plants and animals that call the bayou home.
UL Press (ULP): Many parents across the state are looking for resources to continue education at home. How might Bayou Song help with this?
Margaret Simon (MS): Bayou Song was specifically created to be interactive. The book has a spiral binding and opens like a notebook. After each poem, there are prompts for writing and drawing with space for a writer, child or adult, to write inside the book.
ULP: The book combines poetry with natural science, highlighting the Louisiana wetlands. How did you come up with the idea for this book?
MS: I was contacted by J. Patrick Lewis who was working on an anthology of poems for National Geographic about each state. I wrote the poem Bayou Song for this anthology. It appears in a beautiful spread in the book The Poetry of US. Once I wrote this poem, I wanted to continue writing poems about bayou life. I was inspired by photographs from Phillip Gould and Henry Cancienne.
ULP: Bayou Song encourages the reader to write and draw using many different prompts. Why is it important to practice these skills?
MS: My first response is because it’s fun, but that’s because I enjoy creative activities. Writing poetry comes from a different place than prose. Poetry is more language-centered in that attention is given to word choice, sounds, meter, and meaning. The practice of writing and drawing both require attention to detail and taking notice of things in the world.
ULP: In addition to your work as an author and poet, you have also been an elementary educator for more than thirty years. How do you use poetry and writing in your classroom?
MS: In my classroom, I present a poem almost every day. Many times we discuss the poem, then use it as a mentor text for writing. With distance learning, I have been sending a poetry lesson to students each week and when we gather for an online meeting, we write a poem together. Poetry is a way to connect.
ULP: How long have you been writing poetry?
MS: I have a diary from when I was 13 or 14. Early poems are there, but they were pretty terrible. I came back to poetry when I went through the Acadiana Writing Project Summer Institute in 1995 and had mentors like Ann Dobie and Darrell Bourque.
ULP: What inspires you to write? Is there one style of poetry you are most drawn to?
MS: I am most often inspired to write by other writers. I read and listen to poetry every day. I am often inspired by nature and find poems while walking along or canoeing on the bayou. I am drawn to short poems that pack a big punch. Word choice is important to me. I am drawn to surprising metaphor and imagery that immerses the senses.
ULP: How often do you write? Do you have a particular process for writing, or is it more organic as you are inspired?
MS: I write every day. When we were in school, I would write alongside my students. At home, I have to be more intentional and make time. I carry a journal with me. I gather lines, notes, images, whatever may lead to deeper writing.
ULP: Do you have any other ideas or resources that parents might use? Any words of advice?
MS: I have made some videos of me reading from Bayou Song and sharing prompts. These are available on my YouTube channel. They will also be appearing on the Acadiana Open Channel. My advice to parents is to read aloud to kids every day. Find books with lyrical language. Steep your children in words. Listen to them. Sometimes all you have to do is say, “That sounds like a poem.” I believe every child can write a poem.
About Bayou Song: Creative Explorations of the South Louisiana Landscape
Poetry by Margaret SimonIllustrations by Anna Cantrell
Photography by Henry Cancienne
Selected to represent the state of Louisiana in the “52 Great Reads” children’s book program at the 2018 National Book Festival in Washington, D.C., Bayou Song: Creative Explorations of the South Louisiana Landscape is a poetic journey along Louisiana’s Bayou Teche. Through poetry and art, explore the plants and animals that live along and in the bayou. Teachers will find ideas and prompts for teaching students about the habitat of Louisiana wetlands through poetry and creative writing. Invitations to write and draw make this book an interactive journal for those of all ages who wish to admire and be inspired by South Louisiana’s landscape.
About the Book
At the start of 1839, the small, south Louisiana town of New Iberia appears poised for prosperity. Acadian, French, English, and American immigrants have joined Spanish settlers in the area. Steamboats move up and down the Bayou Teche, carrying the products of the fertile land to market in New Orleans.
Across the bayou, Hortense Duperier enjoys a privileged life in a grand brick house with her husband, Fréderick, and their three children. Suddenly, Fréderick’s untimely death and financial reverses force her to manage the estate on her own.
When signs of the dreaded yellow fever threaten an epidemic, Hortense turns to Félicité, an enslaved woman from Haiti. Together, the two women dispense Félicité’s traditional remedies, defying the medical practices and social constraints of their time to save the young town.
ULP: Tell us a little about your background. What was your career before becoming an author? What made you want to write fiction?
AS: I was born and educated in the East, I came to Louisiana when I married. I practiced law until being elected a general jurisdiction trial court judge, handling every type case from disputes over broken refrigerators to first degree murder, death penalty recommended. Each day, I watched the human condition laid bare: the tragic, the comedic, the bizarre. I recorded details of the tales I heard and the people who told them in three notebooks—one for each of the parishes (counties) I served. I did nothing with my scribblings for two reasons: because I was prohibited by judicial ethics from trading on my position as a judge, and because I didn't know how to write fiction at the time.
At mandatory retirement I had the time to read books on writing and join a writing group led by my daughter-in-law. She teaches writing and will speak the truth to me. Scrambling names and locations, I turned out three crime novels loosely based on the cases I had heard.
ULP: What drew you to the story of Félicité and Hortense?
AS: The story of Félicité is legendary in the Bayou Country. An enslaved Haitian woman in the company of her widowed owner and a few of her white friends nursed what became the town of New Iberia through the 1839 epidemic of yellow fever. Contemporaries noted the successes of Félicité's traditional methods at a time when doctors treated with leeches and deprivation of fluids. She lies buried in the cemetery plot of the family that owned her—a practice unheard of at the time. The New York Times noted her death. Little else about Félicité is historically certain.
The relationship that must have existed between Félicité and her owner would not leave my mind. I had two gifts that I thought might aid me in my quest to recreate that period in history: a close friend with a large collection of papers collected by the prolific family that had owned Félicité and career-long experience in record research. Eventually, I found more clues to her story, but far short of enough source material for an historian. I embarked on writing a fictional account, consistent with known history, of what might have occurred.
ULP: Félicité is a major figure in the book but she is often silent and enigmatic. Why did you choose to depict her this way?
AS: The decision to write the story from the point of view of Hortense Duperier, Félicité's owner, came after consultation with experienced writers in this genre, African American friends, and much deliberation. I am a white woman of privilege, as was Hortense. Did I have the presumption to interpret the world through the mind of an enslaved woman of color? I answered the question in the negative. I decided to show the readers the known and imagined circumstances I uncovered and let them become acquainted with Félicité for themselves.
ULP: How did you go about researching this story? What difficulties did you encounter? Was there anything that surprised you?
AS: Having grown up with Lexington and Concord rather than Gettysburg and Appomattox, I had a lot of local history to learn. What I found was largely a history that did not include half the people who lived in the Bayou Teche Country. African Americans largely exist in history as given names and numbers on a list of the possessions of their white owners. But there proved to be a back door to their lives. The blossoming of general scholarship about the early nineteenth century and amazing genealogical efforts by our current residents is uncovering the reality of early nineteenth-century life. In my mind I moved back in time, and my research in the records uncovered a few more facts about "the old slave." I began to tell her story by recreating a plausible account of her life consistent with the historical scholarship that does exist.
Indeed, I had surprises. I am fairly competent in French, a blessing for this work, but the early nineteenth-century Louisianans spoke a variety of dialects: Parisienne, Acadian, Creole. Early on I realized that any attempt to compose dialogue in a manner faithful to particular dialects would sink the story. I decided to write in my own tongue.
Another surprise was the wealth of lore, albeit frequently contradictory, kept by the descendants of the original settlers of the Bayou Country and the lore of a small group dedicating time and effort to keeping alive the memory of Félicité. A surprising number of both groups still live within fifty miles of the location of this story. This corner of our country is unique in that regard.
ULP: You have written three other books, which are all legal thrillers. What was it like for you to switch genres?
AS: Hard work! My legal thrillers were based on actual cases. Although I changed names and locations of the events, and enjoyed describing this unique corner of our country, I could find all the information I needed in my own records and my own head. When I undertook to write historical fiction, I had no idea how difficult the task would be. Every action taken by a character, and every word spoken, every detail described had to pass the test of historical accuracy. I owe a great debt to my editor, Devon Lord, and to the UL Press for hiring her just at the right time for my work. I now read historical fiction with appreciation for what is involved in setting a story in another era.
ULP: You also highlight the roles that women––free and enslaved––played in this time period as well as the laws and social norms that limited their freedom. Why did you choose to focus on this?
AS: The story of Hortense and Félicité called to me because of my own.
My father provided me the education that by accident of birth he had been denied. Although grateful, I was unwilling to be limited by the restrictions that came with his gift. I did not confront him; I fled. I married someone who took me away to this part of Louisiana, which contrary to popular belief, is amazingly accepting. I became accustomed and thrived being "the only" and "the first"–– the only woman in my law school class and the first woman elected judge in this part of Louisiana. My husband made it possible for me to raise a family and have a career, albeit not at the same time. From the perspective of years, I am eternally grateful to these two men and I am endlessly fascinated by the variety of ways in which women, who rarely even now determine their circumstances, navigate life.
ULP: The looming threat throughout the book is the yellow fever epidemic, much like the threat of coronavirus today. What might we learn from historical events like this?
AS: The story of an epidemic is a story about people in crisis. In the yellow fever epidemic of 1839 and the coronavirus in 2020, we see the disease erase class and economic boundaries, and we learn that the behavior of ordinary people matters.
ULP: Do you have any recommendations or tips for others who want to become published authors?
AS: Unless you have been trained as a writer, accept that you are embarking on a long and difficult journey. Read books about the craft. Begin to write. Join a writing group. Learn to accept and to give criticism. Be willing to abandon a product that does not succeed and start all over again. Endure.
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