30 Days of Why I Love New Orleans - Day 27

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly—the Slave Market and the Civil War

                There were many flags over New Orleans and more nationalities than flags—and a color palette that would confuse the makers at Crayola.

                There were French in the city, of course. A lot of prisoners—convicts given a new

life—as in much of the New World and Australia. There were Frenchmen, Spaniards, Englishmen, Scots, Irish, Americans, and Islanders, so many from Haiti, especially after the Haitian Revolution.

                Pre-Civil War days, New Orleans has the largest New World slave market going. One of the markets was at the corner of St. Louis and Chartres Streets at the old St. Louis Hotel and Slave Market. It had an elaborate rotunda where every afternoon, slaves went up for sale. It could be a brutal market; slave traders wanted to make sure that they sold their human “goods” before summer. Summer could bring on malaria and all kinds of other diseases and God forbid your income up and die on you!

                As mentioned before, it was while seeing the activity at the slave market—while staying at the Cornstalk Hotel—that Harriet Beecher Stowe became compelled to write “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” (There were other slave markets; this was the largest.)

                But nothing is black and white. Well, some were legally white, and some were legally black. But there was also a curious system of colors, and names that more or less went with NOLA more than any other place.

                Because in this same space where human souls were bought and sold, balls often went on. Quadroon balls. So, how does one become a quadroon? I’ll begin at the curious beginning of color-coding that went on at the time. First, if you were of mixed race, you were a femme de colour or gen de colour. Now, if you were half white and half black, you were a mulatto. If you were half mulatto and half black, you were a griffe. If you were mulatto and white, you were a quadroon. See? Easy.

                Many blacks and mulattos and quadroons and griffes in New Orleans were free men or free woman. As such, they sometimes owned slaves as well. Quadroons were frequently prized as mistresses. Now, that’s not hard to comprehend if we look at the multitude of Americans of mixed race—they are some of our most beautiful people.

                But it was a hard and confusing social life. Some men of color might do business with their white neighbors—and yet never sit down to a meal with them.

                Just as some men were cruel and wickedly beat their slaves and wrenched families apart, some were kind, and saw their slaves as part of their own extended families with all on the plantation or in the home working for the best of everyone there.

                Oh, I forgot one of the other colors in the palette—you could be rouge! Yes, sounds lovely. That’s what you were if you were mixed with Native American blood.

                So much that we look at in the past is so horribly ugly. But, sadly, we can never erase the past. To forget history is so wrong. In the words of the great philosopher George Santayana, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

                We need to learn from the past.

                Now, I’m not saying that things are always rosy-cheery in New Orleans or that old prejudices don’t raise their ugly heads now and then. But I am saying that it can be one of the most wonderful cities in the world because it’s certainly one of the most mixed cities in the world. I can tell you that my friends there cover just about every shade in that palette I was talking about. They are of black, white, Spanish, French, Italian, African, you-name-it

descent.

                But back to the slave market.

                It’s gone. After the war, it was used for a while by the state legislature. By 1915, it was abandoned and a haven for rats and roaches and . . . yes. It was condemned.

                Today, the beautiful Omni Royal Orleans stands where it once stood. 

                And guests of every color in the palette are welcomed and enjoy the hotel’s hospitality.  

                But back when the Civil War fell upon the country, New Orleans was the biggest city in the South. It had those horrible slave markets. But, to a Union fighting to keep the country together, it was most important as the main port along the mighty Mississippi. The river was a life line for Confederate troops. It was imperative that the Union take New

Orleans. Admiral Farragut set out to win the city; gunboats sailed the Mississippi and by the end of April, 1862, New Orleans was forced to surrender. 

                It would remain in Union hands for the duration of the war. The General who would become known as “Beast” Butler would wield military rule with a brutal hand. His worst offense was issuing Butler’s General Order #28. It was wordy, but basically it said that any woman who insulted a Union officer was to be treated as if she were a prostitute.  That brought about a lot 

of anger—from the North and South! He was also known as “Spoons” Butler—that was for all the looting the man did.

                I guess the thing to really remember here is this—the good, the bad, and the ugly came on both sides. It’s easy today to wonder how anyone could have condoned such an inconceivable notion as slavery. But, back then, it was as old as the Bible, as old as time. Just as Union generals left the Federal military to join their states—they were Louisianans, Virginians, Georgians, Floridians, etc., first—loyal to their states before their Federal government. We still hear a lot about states’ rights, and they remain incredibly important in our politics today.

                But if you are a Civil War buff like me—intrigued, like me, by some of the incredible, honorable and dedicated men and women of the time—there are some sites you can visit. First, to me, and the most gut-wrenching, is to stand on that corner and imagine the human misery of the slave market. Then, you can check your times and head on over to see the Museum of the Confederacy. (See previous blog!) To view the forts that were important, you have to travel a bit out of the city.

                Fort St. Philip is only accessible by boat or helicopter, is privately owned, and in a bad state of disrepair. Fort Jackson, however, can be visited, though it, too, sustained heavy damage during the summer of storms. Check with any of NOLA’s fine tour companies if you want to see it.

                Chalmette Battlefield is a great day trip for history buffs. While the Union pretty

much sailed by the Chalmette defenses during the taking of New Orleans and you’ll learn more about the War of 1812, excellent guides who love history can make you see just how important the city of New Orleans was to the North—and just how they maneuvered to take the city.

                I love New Orleans for all its wonderful colors. While the past was sometimes horribly ugly, it leads to our present, and a city as beautiful as all the shades in a rainbow.

30 Days of Why I Love New Orleans - Day 26

Sometimes, You’ve Just Got to Sleep!!

And you can find some wonderful places to do so . . . .

Writers for New Orleans naturally takes place at one of my favorite places to stay, but that

comes up last, so for now, I’ll mention a few other places that are great—all depending on what you’re looking for!

Remember, it would be almost as impossible to list all the wonderful bed and breakfast establishments and hotels that can be found in New Orleans as it would be to tell about all the bars.

 People come and stay in many different places—and fall in love with different places for different reasons. I’ll just talk about a few—you may have already discovered a few gems on your own that I know nothing about.

Maybe I’m a romantic at heart because my favorite actual B and B hotel is found easily in  a well-travelled section of the French Quarter, at 915 Royal Street. 

     It’s certainly one of the prettiest bed and breakfast hotels in the French Quarter and it’s called the Cornstalk. I think I fell in love with it when I was five and first saw it, walking hand in hand with my dad.

The home was actually built for Judge Francois Xavier Martin, who happened to be the author of the first History of Louisiana. He was also Chief Justice of the Louisiana Supreme Court. There had been homes on the exact spot before but the city had been ravaged by major fires and it was during the early years of the 1800s that Judge Martin had the house constructed. He then lived there from 1816 to 1826.

He was the one who had the house built—but it was Dr. Joseph Secondo Biamenti who had the famous cast iron fence constructed and the reasoning comes with a beautiful and romantic story. Joseph loved his wife; his wife was from Iowa. Joseph

didn’t want her to be homesick for the waves of corn that grew in her native state and so he had the fence constructed in 1856.

They say that it was at the Cornstalk that Harriet Beecher Stowe came to stay—and she was supposedly moved to write “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” because of that stay when she saw the nearby slave markets.

Politicians, movie stars, and other celebrities have stayed here, entranced by the beauty of the place.

The rooms are spacious.

The hospitality is wonderful. If you do stay, I can guarantee that people will watch you when you return to your home away from home, a little envious that you’re going through the gate and into the house!

Right next door to the Cornstalk, you’ll find the Andrew Jackson Hotel. I haven’t actually

stayed here; friends have. It’s historic, of course—on this site, Andrew Jackson, hero of the Battle of New Orleans, was indicted for contempt and a few other charges. Jackson, being Jackson, dealt with the situation. The hotel is small and the rooms can be on the small side—it’s a great place for someone who wants some history and a location that’s right on Royal and just a block off Bourbon—very near Pat O’Brien’s, Lafitte’s, and more magical wonders of Bourbon Street. It’s also a short hop over to Jackson Square. Definitely a plus for those who don’t want to wallow in their room and would be happy with a nice bed in the midst of a lot of action.

I’ll mention two French Quarter biggies right now; the Omni Royal Orleans and the Royal Sonesta. I’ve stayed at both and enjoyed the service and ambiance of both. The Royal Sonesta enjoyed a major overhaul after the summer of storms—it’s where to be if you really want in on the action. It’s right at 300 Bourbon Street. Sometimes, if you’re a light

sleeper, they’re not the perfect place to be if you’re tired and fond of sleep before the wee hours—depending on room location. Around festivals, they can demand—and get—some pretty steep room rates. They offer lovely rooms, a nice pool area, and many big-hotel pluses. The Omni has wonderful ghosts to delight you—elegant stairways, gorgeous ballrooms. I spent a New Year’s Eve there once that was absolutely delightful. My little nephew was there so we went for the entertainment and music and then family celebration up in the room. A two-year-old in New Orleans for New Years, you say? Yes. Jugglers, clowns, musicians, improve on the square, human statues . . . and then, at the Omni, we watched a side street from a balcony and tossed beads to partiers as they headed in for the night. The rooms aren’t

cookie-cutter; many are very different so you might ask about the room you’re renting. A friend and I switched places; she wanted the massive bed up on a little platform while I loved my two-story with a little loft. The entrance is 621 St Louis Street, but you can exit through the bar and Rib Room Restaurant and be on Bourbon. It’s one of my favorite spots and if you don’t stay, you may find yourself here on a ghost tour anyway.

People do raise children here and when you’re with children, just check out what the offerings are. They can be awesome—even for the little ones!

Moving from the big in the midst of the Quarter over to the outskirts, I’ll mention a couple of chains; a massive Marriott with a view from the top that is certainly unmatchable, a Sheraton right across the Street on Canal, and a Holiday Inn, on the edge of the Quarter as

well. They often offer specials. Both the Sheraton and Marriott are often used by conventions—since they can accommodate them!

Another favorite of mine is the Hotel Provincial at 1024 Chartres Street. It’s a conglomeration of historic buildings and offers large rooms and suites furnished beautifully with old Southern antiques and reproductions. There was a hospital here during the Civil War and the entire property is supposed to be haunted. They have a pool and lovely courtyards and the staff are some of the most welcoming and nicest people I’ve come across—in a city where everyone tends to be really nice.

There are two Ws to be found in the area; one is nice and big and close to Harrah’s. (333 Poydras) The other is on Chartres Street as well and this hotel is really charming. The building is, of course, historic. It offers an absolutely charming and large courtyard with comfy seating and lanterns and is really lovely. I highly recommend it. 316 Chartres Street.

(Across from my favorite NOLA tea shop! Around the corner from the Monteleone. A block or so from K. Paul’s.)

2127 Prytania offers up the gorgeous Magnolia Mansion—no children allowed, but they actually offer a “haunted” package. It’s popular with weddings and showers and celebrations—and those looking for the ‘haunted,’ of course. The street car can get you around. It like many of the wonderful bed and breakfast places that are in the Garden District, are historic and beautiful and well worth the stay. Just remember, you won’t walk out and take a two or three minute walk to the center of the French Quarter.

Just a few more to mention—Place d’Armes in the Quarter offers easy access to many venues; it’s at 625 St. Ann Street and it’s fun and historically charming, though not as plush as some of the others and you may hear your hotel mates doing some celebrating through the night. But it’s friendly and fun and we’ve stayed or had family members there several times. The Nine-O-Five Royal is at 905 Royal Street—and they’re fun and funky and convenient. They advertise that the building was erected in the gay nineties and has no particular history—I love their sense of hey, we’re here, and we’re in a darned good spot.

There are so many treasures in the city! It’s impossible to get to a tenth of a tenth of them. I’ve given you just a few, but I really didn’t mention any of the incredible mansions in the Garden District . . . .

So, the thing, figure what means most to you—price, location, history!—and find the perfect home for you in the Big Easy!

 

30 Days of Why I Love New Orleans - Day 25

 Vampires!!

It’s late at night, darkness has fallen, and an unwary woman walks cobblestone streets. A

streetlight flickers . . . she looks back in fear.  Shadows race eerily in the night; there’s a strange sound of movement on the wind.

                And then the vampire strikes . . . .

                Or, perhaps, he’s just a handsome, rakish, and devilish sort of rogue, and he’s said and done all the right things in a bar and the young woman is his willing victim.

                Not that vampires practice sexual discrimination in any way. Good blood is good blood.

                New Orleans is, of course, a city

rich in vampire lore, thanks to premier vampire-writer of today, the lovely and talented Anne Rice.

                But before Anne Rice, even before Bram Stoker and Dracula, vampire tales and legends were known around the world. In every country those legends are a bit different. Often what people believed can now be explained by science.

                Perhaps New Orleans, a city with such a mixed, colorful, and even violent history, it might just be natural that legends take root and with a bit of a mix from fact and fiction.

                The actual “history” of the vampire stretches way back beyond Bram Stoker’s Dracula; some believe that our modern concept may have had roots in ancient Egypt when a

blood-drinking demon was evoked. Others think of the lamia of the still-ancient world, a crone or a witch who came in the night to drink the blood of babies.

                Perhaps another concept of vampirism might have come from the infamous Countess Bathory—though she didn’t drink blood, she bathed in it.

                Our strongest modern connection, however, probably does come from Vlad Tepes, Dracula, or “Son of the Dragon.” Vlad Tepes was—we know through historical records—a brutal ruler who set his enemies on stakes to die slowly and in excruciating pain. But, then again, he was born in the midst of a violent world. We all have different ways of looking at things. To some, he was a blood-thirsty Dracula. To others, he was a national hero who led his people to victories unknown before his reign.

                During the late Dark Ages and Medieval eras, superstition ruled the world. It was easy to imagine that bad things happened because of witchcraft—and that the dead walked because the evil of Satan had somehow permeated their mortal flesh. In Europe,

plague and disease swept whole communities. People died of tuberculosis, spitting blood.

                And, of course, they were buried prematurely. So often that by Victorian times, coffins offered a window for the face—and many were buried with coffin “alarms,” ropes within the coffin to ring a bell should they find that they awoke—six feet under and staring at a wall of dirt.

                European fears and superstitions travelled to the New World from Europe and we, too, feared death and the coming of the vampire. Mercy Brown was one of the best-documented incidents in the United States having to do with the exhumation and destruction of a corpse to prevent vampirism. Poor Mercy died in 1892. Her mother had died in 1888, then her oldest sister two years later, and then her brother, Edwin, sickened.

But poor Mercy died next. Neighbors were terrified—one of the family members buried had

to be a vampire—rising from the dead to kill and kill again. There were rumors that the Brown family members could be seen walking late at night in the mists that fell upon Rhode Island.

                The family members were exhumed.  The others had decayed. Mercy looked as if she had just lain down for a nap. There was blood in her heart.

                The family had wasted away from “consumption” or tuberculosis, but little was known about the disease at the time and nothing could be done to stop it. Mercy had been buried in frigidly cold ground. That wasn’t really given much thought. She had her heart cut out and burned. The ashes were mixed with water; Edwin drank them. No good—Edwin died two years later.

                The custom of “sitting up with the dead” became very popular and remains popular. Sitting up with the dead for twenty-four hours means that someone can watch over the corpse—and make sure that it’s showing no signs of coming back to life.  This is still practiced fairly frequently in NOLA—out of respect, really, more so than a fear of the dead coming back to life. It’s a nice custom, even if it did begin strangely. All over the world, we “wake” our dead. Fear? Or tender care?

                Frankly, I have friends in New Orleans who are vampires. Not blood-drinking vampires, though cults of blood-drinkers do exist in NOLA—as well as elsewhere around the world. Most of the time, these are cults of consenting adults who draw each other’s blood or arranged to have blood drawn and then share the drinking.

                My friends tend to be “spiritual” vampires; they “drink” energy and force from the air, try to drink in negative energy around them and change it into something better. Can this truly be a talent? I don’t know. I know they’re nice people.

                “Porphyria” is a real disease that some suffer from. They constantly need transfusions. Therefore, those suffering must “drink in” the blood of others.

                Now, of course, there are those who think they are vampires—or kill as if they were

vampires. The “Axman” murders that befell New Orleans from May of 1918 to October of 1919. Nine people were brutally killed, and there were rumors that the Axman—who killed people with an axe—was a vampire, seeking their blood. There’s another story you’ll hear that people have  a difficult time verifying and the story changes depending on when you hear it. In 1984, around the city, nine bodies were found with their throats ripped out and almost no blood at all found at the scene of each murder.

                Two young women were killed in a like manner in 1978. Throats ripped up, bodies almost bloodless, the scenes of the crimes almost bloodless as well.

                What has really happened in New Orleans as far as vampires go?

                Whether you’re a believer, a person with a scientific mind who likes to put the pieces together, or simply one for a good tale or two, I suggest the vampire tour in NOLA. The past and the present collide; you get to hear tales of possible vampirism, possible mental illness—and the literary world!

                NOLA has a feel, just like the fantastic faded elegance of her past. It’s poignant and nostalgic, and the old and new beneath the moon just might make you a believer.

                I am a fan of Haunted History Tours in NOLA and if you want to venture on a great walking tour that gives you voodoo along with a bit of the ghostly—and the ghastly!—venture out on their  Vampire Tour!

                And it’s NOLA. You can stop for a bloody Mary somewhere along the way . . . .