New Orleans Time_layout_4_06112018

– Since 1944 –
Living On
New Orleans
T I M E
Passing Moments As Seen From Life’s Bayou
Richard A. Caire
First Edition
~ 2018 ~

Copyright Information
____________________________________
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people,
or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and
incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance
to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2018 Richard A. Caire
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored
in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means –
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise – without
the prior written permission of the author. The only exception is brief
quotations in critical articles or reviews.
First Edition: 2018
ISBN-13: 978-1720365907
ISBN-10: 1720365903
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
RAC
Printed in the United States of America

Living On New Orleans Time
________________________________________________________
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Richard A. Caire
EDITOR
Richard A. Caire
WRITER
Richard A. Caire
LEAD DESIGNER
Richard A. Caire
GRAPHICS EDITOR
Richard A. Caire
PHOTO ARTIST
Richard A. Caire
GRAPHIC ARTIST
Richard A. Caire
COVER ART & DESIGN
Richard A. Caire
EDITORIAL MANAGER
Richard A. Caire
CONSULTANT
Allan Lane Casteix
COPY EDITOR
Richard A. Caire
INTERNS
Needed Only When In-Hospital
SPECIAL THANKS
Adelard A. Caire, Rita McCabe Caire, Douglas Caire, Mary Lee McLean,
Megan Silea, Allan Lane Casteix, C. Samuel Hopkins, Linda Craig

Table Of Contents
_________________________________________________________
(
The French Quarter ............................................001
The CBD & Mid-City Area .......................................025
Cemeteries ...................................................055
Uptown & Carrollton ...........................................097
Lake Pontchartrain & West End ..................................121
Metairie & Jefferson Parish ......................................149
About the Author ..............................................186
The Mighty PimpMobile ........................................187
To Be Continued ...............................................189

Prologue & Introduction
Shown here is a window display for an antiques shop on
Magazine Street in Uptown New Orleans. Once upon a time,
each was bright and shiny, and did useful things. Now they’re only
‘vapors of history’ that make people say ‘Oh, how nice!,’ while serving
no purpose higher than colorful knick-knacks or ‘accent pieces’ on
a mantel shelf or coffee table. They’re ‘the good stuff ’ that kids find
after a flood. That’s not a criticism, tho’ — it’s just the way life works.
What’s innovative, new, and useful today eventually comes to rest on
the banks of Life’s Bayou, where each becomes its own oxbow item.
All these pieces and their places had their moments – now they’re
gone. The events presented herein may be likened to images locked
in amber, their contents preserved forever in time. They’re as brief
as the sunrise that glowed, then vanished; the unexpected moment
of magic which, tho’ gone, remains locked in memory; or those
dissimilar objects and events which once created the juxtaposed linkages
that have now dissolved. These magical events happen everywhere –
they’re just more special when they happen in New Orleans.
I’m glad you’ve joined me on this trip down Life’s Bayou.
Let’s get in our pirogue and push off from the bank …
Allons!

7

The French Quarter
__________________________________________
If it’s not here, you don’t need it.
001

French Quarter Morning – 17 September 1991
This morning in this alleyway brought to mind many possibilities
for a movie script. Some were mundane; others, quite dramatic.
The key to the green door always unlocked a mystery. A completely
unlinked association (except in the pathways of memory) is that a local artist
with the stage name of Eskew Reeder (pron. ‘SQ Rita’) once had a hit
tune called ‘Green Door.’ His stage persona and costumes would later
become the model for one Richard Penniman (a/k/a ‘Little Richard’).
(The history is strong in this one, Luke.)
When people outside New Orleans think of New Orleans, their
first thought is usually of the French Quarter. If they’ve never been
to the city, they don’t know about Café du Monde or Morning Call.
That means they also don’t know about the simple joy of beignets
(say ‘ben-YAYs’) with coffee and chicory. They also don’t know those
so-close-to-being-fun moments trying to direct that finely powdered
confectioner’s sugar onto the beignets. It’s more fun on a windy day.
(Pro tip: Don’t wear dark clothing.)
Interesting though all of that may be, it’s not part of this scene.
It would have been nice to ask the residents what they knew about
this building and its past, but that would have meant waking them.
Better to just appreciate the moment.
The Zeitgeist was strong that morning in this alleyway, and sights
like this are what make the French Quarter special. You won’t find this
kinda stuff on any other Bayou. Stick with me and I’ll tell you a bit more
… let’s begin our journey, yes?
002

003

Spider Lilies – 11 December 1991
In a small area next to Jax Brewery was something I can only
describe as an ‘accidental garden.’ It may have been planted and tended,
but it gave the appearance of being a collection of plant life that arose
spontaneously in place.
At first, I didn’t see much to the arrangement. Looking more closely,
it became obvious this was a Study In Life and Death in one grouping.
The lily at far left was in full bloom; the one at top right was in its dotage,
and the one at bottom right was past its ‘Best When Used By’ date. That
created an entirely different context for what, on its surface, appeared to
be nothing more than a few accidental flowers growing next to a former
brewery in the French Quarter.
The light was low, and provided the conditions for a triple exposure.
This happens only in our imagination, yes? Yes, but …
004

005

Jackson Square – 12 December 1991
This was the vision that greeted me on a pre-Christmas visit to
the French Quarter to view the premier iconographic elements there,
St. Louis Cathedral and Andrew Jackson on his horse. Both are woven
deeply into the threads of the city’s history. It’s probably not possible
to grow up in New Orleans and remain unaware of these works.
Even if it’s just a quick visit to the Quarter, you’ll see them as you look for
a parking spot. If you’re at Morning Call or Café du Monde,
you’ll see them. Walking around Jackson Square admiring the
work of the local artists, or sitting to have your caricature done?
You’ll see them. They’re the subjects of paintings, drawings, jewelry,
photography, or any other medium you choose. They’ve been done –
and overdone. They’ll continue to be done. They’re on the list of things
you take for granted when you grow up with them.
Even though The Presbytère and The Cabildo bracket
St. Louis Cathedral, they don’t demand the same degree of attention.
One reason may be that their size isn’t as imposing. The more relevant
reason may be that the Cathedral has deeper, more personal, roots
in the community. People don’t get married at The Cabildo or at
The Presbytère, but they do at the Cathedral. Christenings take place
there, as does the Red Mass for the legal community. Jackson Square.
View once, remember many …
006

007

Assemblage des Antiquités – 11 December 1991
On a side street next to what used to be Jax Brewery (a/k/a ‘Jackson
Brewing Company’) was a long line of what are generally referred
to as ‘antique’ automobiles. I imagine they were part of a parade or
celebration later that day. Since they were parked, I didn’t need to
worry that they’d move, or complain about the sun being in their eyes.
Jax Brewery by this time was no longer the brewery that I knew and
remembered from the days when I played music in the French Quarter.
I could walk to my car after the club closed and take in the ‘smellstream’
floating on the morning air. The mixed aromas of French bread baking,
coffee roasting, and the unmistakable smell of beer brewing commingle
to establish an olfactory memory that stays with you long beyond the
time of its creation.
The brewery which once operated at this location had become
a retail mall. Tower Records and Bookstar now occupied the space where
once beer-making equipment stood. Ice cream was dispensed from cold
marble slabs, and sandwiches were eaten in the shadows of history.
Joni Mitchell anticipated things like this early on when she wrote the line:
“You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone … ”
008

009

Rex – 01 September 1991
Remember ‘Silver Streak,’ with Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor?
Yes? Good. Remember the scene where they walk into the cell and
Richard Pryor tells everyone that “We bad. That’s right. We bad.”
In a nutshell, that’s the attitude presented by Rex, The King of Chairs.
He rules the domain of this antique shop and his small square of
sidewalk. The cow skull is just for good measure in case his status is
challenged by The Lesser Chairs.
True, it could be argued this is only a big chair with a cow skull
on its seat, and it needs a bit of ‘fixin’ up.’ That would be right, but
it wouldn’t be N’Awlins … That. Would. Be. Boring.
The chair and skull create a sense of ‘otherworldliness’ designed
to make viewers curious enough to become enchanted by other items
on display outside or, if they’re brave enough – beyond the door, in the
Mystical Depths Of The Inky Shadows. That’s where the magic lives.
010

011

A Perfectly Good Baby – 03 July 1990
What was your first response when you viewed this image?
Mmm-hmm. That’s what I suspected. It’s not the kind of thing
you see every day, is it? It’s the sort of juxtaposition that creates a
‘Whaaa... ?’ response. At first glance, it looks like someone has abandoned
a baby in its stroller, yes? Yes.
This July day, I had lunch at Buster’s restaurant and was walking off
a plate of red beans, rice, and sausage. Buster was a New Orleans legend
and a stand-up kind of guy. People down on their luck could walk into
his restaurant and say to him ‘Buster, I’m hungry, but I don’t have no money’ –
he’d fix them a plate of food and tell them to ‘catch me up later.’
An apocryphal Buster legend tells of the time he was attacked from
behind and struck in the head with a hatchet while getting in his car
one night. He put a beatdown on the perp, bloodied him up, put him
in the back seat, drove him to the French Quarter police station,
and drove himself to Charity Hospital – with the hatchet in his head
the entire time. True or not, it’s a great story.
Back to the baby carriage: Walking closer and doing a quick
check to ensure there was no ‘Baby On Board,’ I concluded it had
been abandoned by a homeless person. The blue plastic bag held
a random collection of unwashed clothing and other paraphernalia
(no, not that kind of paraphernalia). Having taken a few images for
posterity, it became necessary to resume the Post-Prandial Walkabout
so the meal and its calories didn’t relocate to the waistband …
012

013

St. Louis Cathedral & Presbytère
– 21 November 1991 –
Flanking the opposite side of St. Louis Cathedral from the Cabildo
and fronting on Jackson Square is the Presbytère. It dates to the same
reconstruction period as the Cabildo, which followed the fires of 1788
and 1794. The Presbytère was designed to be a virtual visual and
architectural ‘bookend’ to the Cabildo.
Although the structure was originally known as the Casa Curial
(Ecclesiastical House), its name derives from the fact that it was constructed
on the site of the residence, or presbytère, of the Capuchin monks.
The address of The Presbytère is 751 Chartres St., Jackson Square.
If you want to go inside, it’ll set you back $6 for adults and $5 for seniors,
students, and active military. Children 12 and under are admitted free.
A day like this is perfect for visiting Jackson Square, The Cabildo,
and The Presbytère. Look closely at the items near the cast iron fencing
and you’ll see the materials set out by an artist to be ready for the
arrival of the crowd. When you need a break, there’s coffee and chicory
not too far away … I think you’ll find some beignets there, too.
014

015

Exact Change Only – 15 August 1991
Canal Street and Carondelet Street. A rainy afternoon. Hot, muggy,
sweaty, and messy. The street car you’ve been waiting for finally arrives.
You look forward to boarding, to getting out of the constant drizzle.
You need to have Exact Change Only. That’s NORTA’s rule. NORTA
is the abbreviation for the New Orleans Regional Transit Authority.
They set the rules; they decide who rides – and doesn’t. The young
couple counting their change before boarding may be among the lucky
ones. They may get to board the streetcar. They may be able to sit for
a while until they arrive at their stop. They may be able to relax a bit –
but that all depends on whether they have Exact Change Only.
Out of view in this image is a display window for what was once
one of New Orleans’ larger and better-known booksellers, Siler’s Books.
Its windows featured nicely-lettered signs next to displays of books.
There was only once anything in their window was out of character. It
was a hand-lettered sign displayed on an easel; quite well-done, with a
steady hand on the brush. There was only one problem with it, and it
caused it to miss its target audience. What was that problem, you ask?
The sign’s simple message told viewers to ‘Learn To Read.’
016

017

The Assistant Operator – 07 November 1991
Streetcars. Ya love ’em or ya hate ’em. They rock and sway from
side to side and go a-trundlin’ down the tracks, making a dull metallic
‘click-click’ as steel wheels roll over steel rails. Occasionally, a driver
thinks he can beat a streetcar to the crossing – and loses. Best of all is the
whiff of ozone every time the catenary goes ‘POOF!’ I know – ozone is
a poisonous gas. Your point is … ? It’s part of the Streetcar Experience.
You know the drill: “Ya pays yer money and takes yer chances.” Remember to
ask for a transfer when you board, okay?
This particular pre-Christmas evening near the Riverwalk saw
the streetcar known as ‘The Red Lady’ parked at its station.
Never having imaged this car, its immobility was welcome.
A lack of passengers was more than I could have hoped for.
The interior of the car was open and visible, with no riders blocking the
view. The only occupants of the ‘Red Lady’ were its Operator and a
civilian ‘advisor,’ who was quite unshy about providing advice that was,
more than likely, unneeded. I didn’t intrude on their training session.
Even tho’ it was still a month and change away from Christmas,
it was the right time to be at the Riverwalk. I would have regretted
missing this opportunity.
018

019

French Market Christmas Garlic
– 12 December 1992 –
A December morning at the French Market in 1992 was made
just a little bit brighter by the sight of netting filled with garlic pods
and tied off with a bright red Christmas ribbon. Who wouldn’t like to
find a stockingful of garlic with their name on it? Why, garlic is good
with everything. Use it in oyster dressing. Put some in turkey soup made
the day after Christmas. Cut off the tops and drizzle a bit of olive oil
over the pods before sprinkling them with salt and putting ’em in the
oven to slow-roast. Buy some right now. Buy plenty – then buy about
a half-dozen more as gifts. It’s the gift that keeps on giving, isn’t it?
Christmas garlic – it’s another of the unique New Orleans sights you’ll
never see anywhere else.
020

021

Le Chat Noir – 12 November 1991
While not strictly in the French Quarter, the Bywater District of
New Orleans is, as it’s said, ‘close enough for jazz.’
I was collecting images in the Bywater of subjects to be posted
on a now-defunct site called DeadSofa.com. It featured pictures of sofas
and other furnitures, and told fictional tales about how they became
‘street dwellers.’ Exactly where this house was located is lost to memory,
but that’s irrelevant. What’s relevant is the unanticipated entry of
Le Chat Noir. That day, the old phrase ‘If it wasn’t for bad luck,
I wouldn’t have no luck at all’ was far off in the distance.
Almost ready to press the shutter, what to my wondering eyes should
appear but Le Chat Noir. I don’t know where this cat came from,
but it had added just the right amount of ‘creep factor’ and implied
‘I Got Your Bad Luck Right Here.’
It made old blues lyrics go on ‘autoplay,’ where a line like
‘I got a black cat bone’ precedes ‘I got a mojo too’ before going on to brag
about having a ‘Black John the Conqueroo’ and finishes by telling the listener
‘I’m gonna mess with you.’ Where else but in New Orleans would a little
black cat cause that kind of response? See how creepy Life’s Bayou can
be if you get out of the boat … ? Stay in the boat. Stay. In. The. Boat …
and remember to press the shutter release, okay?
022

023

024

The CBD & Mid-City
__________________________________________
Where Excitement Rules The Day
025

Bus Stop Truth – 31 May1999
Such a nice day it was … slightly cool, light breeze, blue skies,
feathery clouds – what’s not to like? On my way down the Bayou to
the French Quarter, I noticed this innocuous yet insightful little sign
speaking Bus Stop Truth. Look at the construction of the bus stop.
There’s nothing to keep vehicles from splashing water and everything
it contains onto the waiting riders. That’s what Tide’s talkin’ about.
Simple. Direct. Buy Tide. You’ll need it. You know you will.
After a suitable amount of time spent admiring a simple message
simply delivered, I composed the image. The background was a perfect
complement to the day, the sign, and the lighting.
The tall building in the background of this image was called
the Plaza Tower on Howard Avenue. Conceived by the man
referred to as the Father of Downtown Development, Sam J. Recile,
Plaza Tower opened in 1969, becoming the tallest building in the
state of Louisiana. Forty-five stories tall and designed by the architect
Leonard Spangenberg, Jr., it rose to a height of five hundred and ten
feet. That, in turn, required a change in the zoning height restrictions
in order to allow its construction. The original plans called for it to
house offices, penthouse apartments, restaurants, a bank, a health club,
a heliport, and (wait for it) … an observation deck.
So far as I’m aware, the structure is still in place, but it’s now called
Crescent City Towers. Developer Joe Jaeger bought the building in
2014, but no plans for redevelopment have been revealed yet.
This simple little bus stop sign couldn’t have asked for a better or
more historic background element … it just works.
026

027

The Dog-Faced Boy – 21 June 1993
This was in the side yard of a shop on Esplanade Avenue where
I got my hair cut. After a few visits, I got to know Jules, the proprietor,
and asked about the Dog-Faced Boy. It was originally a jockey statue,
but that was no longer true. It had now become a ‘VouDou.’
Jules said he originally placed it in the yard as an intact jockey statue.
After a few days, its head was knocked off. He reattached it. The next
day, it was off again. He reattached it. The following day was a repeat
of the day before – head in the grass, no longer attached.
Now Jules upped his game and moved into Unknown Territory.
He attached a dog skull to the jockey’s body. The next day, the statue
was intact. The day after that also showed no damage. The statue was
never touched again once Jules attached the ‘Big Magic’ dog skull.
If you need strong ju-ju to keep away the baddies, find yourself
a handy dog skull. Attach it just like this. Think how much scarier this
would have been with a Rottweiler skull starin’ down the bad guys …
028

029

Drunk Callin’ – 26 June 1995
Yeah, you right. Who hasn’t had the dubious pleasure of being
awakened in the wee hours of the morning by the Drunk Caller?
Being ‘drunk-dialed’ by a complete stranger is bad enough, but you can
put a ‘Bayou Blasting’ on a stranger. You might be a bit more diplomatic
if it’s someone you know.
This now-‘retro’ pay phone on North Broad Street displayed the
Primary Indicator someone had been Drunk Callin’ from the location
– an empty beer bottle. It could have been put there by someone other
than the caller, but I wouldn’t bet on that.
There’s a quasi-redemptive quality to this booth, tho’ – it’s relatively
clean. There’s no grafitti, no ‘For A Good Time’ numbers, and no rude
comments advising complete strangers about where to go and what to
do with certain body parts.
The only important question left unsolved in this case is the one of:
Was that beer a Dixie or a Falstaff … ?
030

031

Lee’s Hair Styles – 08 November 1998
You want to know what those white ‘X’ marks on the glass are,
don’tcha? Those were left behind when the duct tape was removed after
a hurricane. Which hurricane? Don’t know; probably one of too
many to count. Evidently no damage was done because the glass and
the security tape are still intact, and so are the burglar bars and gridding.
If you look closely, a speaker and what may be an early version of
a security camera are above the sign. The words on the window say
there are ‘Barbers On Duty.’ There may be, but the place looked pretty
tight to me. There are stretches of Life’s Bayou where security is needed.
Not too far away from Lee’s is a place most New Orleanians
‘of a certain age’ will remember: ‘Seafood City’ at 1826 North Broad.
Lee’s, like Seafood City, wasn’t ‘very pretty,’ but both got the job done.
It’d be great to have some crawfish about now …
032

033

Bad Dog – 08 November 1998
A few blocks further away from the ‘Drunk Calling’ phone is this
welcoming communications device conveniently located next to a sign
warning the caller of a Bad Dog. No indication of the species or the size
– just that the dog is ‘Bad.’ Ambiguity is sometimes a good thing.
Imagine, if you will, making a call to report a mugging, or to
whisper ‘sweet nothings’ in someone’s ear, the whole time dealing with
the background sound of an animal whose sole reason for existing is to
threaten your existence. Okay, that’s a bit dramatic, maybe even over the
top, but hey, it could happen! After all, no one will ever take a ‘Bad Dog’
sign seriously if they only see an ‘attack chihuahua’ barking at ’em.
There’s also the possibility there’s no dog at all. The sign could
have been put there in order to make annoying people think twice
about using the phone booth as their convenient all-day loiter spot.
Could this be street-level ‘PsyOps’ … ? We’ll never know.
034

035

If The Oyster Won’t Come To Baby
– 12 September 1989 –
At 2000 hours on a Saturday, 26 September 2015, The Pearl Oyster
Bar & Restaurant, at 119 St. Charles Avenue, New Orleans, LA closed.
No drama, no fanfare. Just POOF! Gone …
As I stood in front of The Pearl Oyster Bar and Restaurant this
day, The Pearl’s unforgettable sign still brightened this section of the
Bayou on St. Charles Avenue near Canal Street. As I was about to press
the shutter release, what appeared but a man and his little boy walking
toward The Pearl. I still wonder if that little boy chowed down on his
first dozen ‘erstas’ with crackers, ketchup, horseradish, and lemon juice.
My best memories of The Pearl are the times I ate there after playing
music with Bat, Henri, Eddie, David, and Charlie. In later years, I’d stop
there for a ‘breakfast po’boy’ and coffee on the way home after playing
at the club on Bourbon Street.
The Pearl’s traditional menu included staples like gumbo,
crab cakes, and roast beef sandwiches – but it wasn’t until you ordered
one of their hot pastrami sandwiches on rye with a dill pickle wedge –
and a Barq’s root beer – that you appreciated what they did with food.
Good night, Ms. Marie, wherever you are.
036

037

Kolb’s – Memories of Fine Dining
– 12 September 1989 –
This is a ‘bookend’ to the previous image. After The Pearl,
I moved over to frame up the sign at Kolb’s Restaurant, formerly the
premier German restaurant in New Orleans. The original attraction
was this sign, the boarded-up windows, and the light fixtures, with
perspective leading to the Southern Savings building located, to use a
term, ‘down da Bayou.’
The gentleman with the cart had been pushing it in the street while
I was framing up the shot. It was only as he drew nearer to Kolb’s and
The Pearl that he moved his cart onto the sidewalk. That was probably
a lot safer and a good deal easier than pushing it in the street.
Kolb’s was well-known to most people in the city. This man was
known only to himself. He may have been a regular at Ozanam Inn on
Camp Street, or a new arrival in town from places unknown. Whatever
his origin, he wheeled his worldly possessions in the shopping cart.
There may be an analogy to be made between the boards at Kolb’s
and the boarded-up opportunities leading to this man’s presence in New
Orleans that day. I can’t craft one. Sometimes the WordWell runs dry.
This is one of those times.
038

039

Canal Street – 13 June 1992
This image began life as a ‘grab shot’ I took on my way to
somewhere else in June of 1992. I took it to record a piece of the
city I knew wouldn’t be there forever. You know what it’s like trying
to remember what ‘used to be there’ once it’s gone, yes? Yes.
This was taken as a ‘remember when’ memory-jogging image.
Only later did I notice it was more than a ‘grab shot.’ In the
background, almost unnoticed, was a pivot point in the city’s and
the nation’s conjoined histories. The old Woolworth’s building had
been the location for the first locally-organised lunch counter sit-in.
Year: 1960. Month: September. Date: 9th. Location: Woolworth’s,
1031 Canal Street at North Rampart Street. After a demonstration
starting at 1030, it was shut down by a sit-in at the lunch counter
at 1230. Fast forward: October, 2014 – the demolition of Woolworth’s
took place to make way for a $70 million luxury apartment complex.
I wonder if people in New Orleans today still remember this
Woolworth’s, its lunch counter, that ‘long ago and far away’ day,
and the history that was played out then upon its stage.
040

041

Every Panel Tells A Story, Don’t It?
– 12 August 1994 –
On the way home from downtown, the drive down Poydras Street
took me directly in front of the former Maylie’s Restaurant. It opened in
1876 as Maylie & Esparbe, Inc., making it one of the oldest restaurants
in New Orleans. After Maylie’s closed, the building later became a
Smith & Wollensky steakhouse which, in its turn, also closed.
A wee bit of Maylie’s later history: After the restaurant’s main
building fell victim to street widening in the late ’50s, all that was left
was the two-story frame building, the bar, the dining room of sixty seats,
and the first floor kitchen. The image at right shows a small detail
of how it looked about eleven years after its closure in 1983.
The ‘hurricane only’ panels were now at the end of their useful life.
The most interesting parts of the exterior were the separate ‘panel’
areas created by the windowing, the transoms, and the lamp glass.
Since they provided ready-made frame segments, it was easy to create a
‘two-fer.’ The ‘picture-in-picture’ paneling allowed insertion of many
other images of the city – almost a reflection of the later life and times
of Maylie’s over the years. Not exactly a one-to-one representation,
but it’s all New Orleans in each panel. Life’s Bayou keeps on flowin’ …
042

043

The Feasting – 05 March 1994
Delgado Community College isn’t exactly what would be considered
Mid-City or the CBD, but it’s close enough for government work.
It sits across Marconi Drive from City Park on City Park Avenue,
and it had this outside sculpture exhibition presented by its students.
I don’t know what the design specs for this project were,
but they appear to have given students pretty wide latitude. This piece,
even while remaining a mystery, is one I really like. It has a great
‘Rohrschach’ quality in the form of the ‘bird’ or ‘beast’ – whatever it’s
supposed to be. The surface appears to have been crazed by fire, either
naturally-occurring or artifically applied. It’s a great textural effect.
The accompaniments (side dishes?) on the ‘table’ fit the mysterious
mood created by the central ‘ju-ju’ figure. Any threads of commonality
seem to have gone missing, but that’s not a problem. In any
‘waking dream’ piece, logical linkage is always the first casualty.
The student who created this had a keen eye – and an understanding of
what it means to be from the New Orleans stretch of the Bayou …
044

045

Popp Fountain – 15 September 1992
Designed by the Olmsted Brothers in the late 1920s, Popp Fountain
was dedicated in 1934. Rebecca Grant Popp donated $25,000 for
a memorial to honor her husband, John F. Popp. The WPA added the
tile walkways and landscaping; the art deco fountainhead was designed
by Enrique Alférez.
By the 1970s, though, Popp Fountain and the surrounding area had
been neglected for a long time, and it showed. The area was unfenced,
and there was no water supply to the fountain. This is how it appeared
in City Park in 1992. It wasn’t a pretty sight to behold, but there were
still hints of its former beauty if you looked. That, however, all changed
for the better with the passage of time.
Popp Fountain in City Park underwent significant restoration, and
the 12 acres around the fountain are now fenced in. The fountain’s
waters now flow again, and the Arbor Room has been added.
The outstanding renovation of Popp’s Fountain in City Park is one of
New Orleans’ success stories – and it was done up very right.
046

047

The Whole Nine Yards – 21 October 1992
Imagine being the gunner standing at this window. Imagine the
Focke-Wulf 190s or Me-109s coming at you, bright flashes flickering
from wing guns and nose cannon. Imagine maneuvering your weapon
in a space about six feet wide, with another gunner so close behind
that you can touch him. Imagine doing all this wearing heavy clothing
and gloves. It’s cold at 36,000 feet.
Those were some of the thoughts I had looking through this window
on a day with none of those threats. I’m still amazed it was so cramped.
This air show was presented by the ‘Confederate Air Force’ (which was
later changed to become the ‘Commemorative Air Force.’)
The B-17 carried a ‘useful bombload’ at a service ceiling of 36,000
feet for ten hours, with a top speed of at least 200 mph. Other details:
Armament of twelve .50 caliber machine guns, a maximum bomb
load of 20,000 pounds, and a fuel load of 2,780 gallons (3,600 gallons
with bomb bay tanks). The rumor is that those twenty-seven-foot-long
ammunition belts for the .50s gave us our term ‘the whole nine yards.’
This air show was at New Orleans’ Lakefront Airport, the eastern
counterpoint to Moisant International Airport. Joining the B-17 on
the tarmac that day were a B-24, an A-1 ‘Skyraider,’ and too many others
to remember. If one happened to have a spare $300 with him,
a flight around the city in these craft could be had. If only …
048

049

Tubaville – 04 April 1999
Technically, this isn’t the CBD or Mid-City area of New Orleans.
It’s the window of a pawn shop on either Jackson Avenue or Louisiana
Avenue at Magazine Street. The instruments and the building reflected
in the glass each display the endpoint of high use and low maintenance.
That, tho’, isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
The tubas, trombones, and other instruments in the pawn shop
once upon a time made the thing that people call ‘a joyous noise’ in
the course of their existence. Now they sit silently, waiting for new futures
playing old music.
The house may once have been the site of grand parties or funeral
wakes. My first experience with an in-home wake came when I was
eight or so. The deceased’s coffin rested on two two-by-fours laid across
sawhorses in the front room. What appeared to my young eyes to be
hundreds of votive candles were placed throughout the front room, taking
the place of electric lights. Veiled ladies dressed in black sat and wept,
or remembered shared life experiences with the deceased. It’s just how
things are done – Life and Death, holding hands as they drift together
down Life’s Bayou toward the waiting Gulf …
Tubas are heavy instruments. They’re also bulky. Carrying one
in a parade can’t be a lot more fun than carrying the bass drum.
The tuba’s heavier, but the bass drum’s bulkier. It projects out in front
of you and its weight pulls you forward as you walk. Try doing that
marching in formation sometime – don’t ask how I know these things.
Every now and then, I wonder if any of those instruments were
owned by someone who lived in that house.
050

051

Do Not Park – 22 September 1992
It would be wonderful if the location of this sign and this building
in the CBD was remembered but, alas and alack, that memory is no
more. What remains is this round-corner edging brickwork – and
The Mysterious Sign.
When you look at the old brick buildings of New Orleans,
their corners are of the ‘must-be-right, can’t-be-wrong’ right-angle
school. Squared-off. Precise. Angular. Geometric. Their shape is
based on one of the Platonic solids (also called the regular solids,
or regular polyhedra). There are five solids: the cube, dodecahedron,
icosahedron, octahedron, and tetrahedron. Be grateful the cube won.
Imagine your house built as a dodecahedron.
This ostensibly simple column probably took them no longer to
construct than its square-cornered cousins. The rounded edging would
have been specified by the architect. It’s always a matter of making
a tasteful choice, isn’t it?
Surprise, and a bit of disappointment, enters into the picture when
y’ think of how many buildings could have benefited from softer lines
with the use of this round-edged bricking.
Meanwhile, the question of what to not park in front of has been
forcibly erased from the signage. It will remain forever unanswered.
Someone was aggravated enough by this directive to use a chisel as their
‘removal tool of choice.’
052

053

Author’s Note:
This section does not display many of the more well-known ‘tourist’ cemeteries.
It concentrates on those cemeteries I grew to know fairly well over time.
Holt Cemetery quickly became my favorite New Orleans cemetery.
The unifying theme of all cemeteries is remembrance.
This is done well in all of them shown here.
054

Cemeteries
__________________________________________
“And therefore
as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things
in heaven and earth, Horatio,
than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Hamlet, Act I, Scene 5
055

Better Keep It Clean – 24 January 1991
This is the sight that greeted me on my first visit to Holt Cemetery.
I liked it. Simple. Direct. The message had immediate clarity, much
like that of the Talking Heads’ lyrics to ‘Life During Wartime’:
“This ain’t no party / This ain’t no disco / This ain’t no fooling around”…
It was also effective, as the graves at Holt were always well-maintained.
It wasn’t unusual to see people removing old wooden coping or markers
and replacing them with new ones – which led to many conversations …
On this afternoon, a gentleman was in the bed of his truck throwing
old coping into a dumpster. We talked for a bit, and he mentioned
two roosters that lived on the property. I told him the groundskeeping
crew had named them ‘Big George’ and ‘Little George.’ He looked
at me incredulously for a second or so before saying “But that can’t be!
MY name is George!” Every visit to Holt had its own special moment.
The people I met at Holt were gracious and provided context
to the inscriptions on many of the markers that are otherwise inscrutable.
Their assistance gave me greater understanding of – and appreciation
for – the people and histories interred there. Unlike most cemeteries,
Holt doesn’t fit neatly into that ‘City Of The Dead’ category – it’s still
a celebration-in-progress of the lives that are remembered there.
056

057

Litanie des Saintes – 09 December 1993
Of all the images I’ve taken at Holt Cemetery, this is my favorite.
It’s difficult to pick just one that stands out more than the rest, but
this one made the cut. Simple in its composition, sincere in its expression,
it displays a bit more ‘staying power’ than most remembrances in the
cemetery. In Holt’s unique ‘Land of Dreams,’ it has a special place.
Tie up the pirogue; let’s walk the banks of Life’s Bayou for a second.
The marker may look more like a cricket bat than a memorial
with a cross at top, but to think that would be to make a mistake.
The arms of its cross long ago broke off to give the impression of a
‘handle’ at top. Look closely; a remnant of the painted text that once
read from left to right across the bar still appears in truncated form.
The headless statues are enigmatic. They display no name for
a particular saint or person. Like many in the graves without markers,
they too have become the Unknowns. They are also the Unknowables,
having become anonymized by Time.
Visible but out of focus at the very bottom is a decaying ribbon
barely attached to a broken vase once used to hold artificial flowers.
All are sun-bleached by exposure over time. The text on the marker
will eventually disappear, and the anonymization will become complete.
For those moments I was in its presence, a small remnant of individuality
still flickered across the wood. Sic transit gloria mundi …
058

059

The Holt Indian – 09 May 1999
This Indian may no longer be on display at Holt. It was always
to the immediate right of the entry to the cemetery proper, and to
the right side of a bust of an individual named Bras-Coupé, the
literal translation of which is ‘cut-off arm.’ That was the fictional name
of a slave named Squire who lived in Louisiana until his death in 1837.
He was an entertainer, and his master allowed him to travel. After
many attempts to escape, he was captured in 1834 by a planters’
patrol, which amputated his right arm as punishment. He continued
to run away, and eventually organized a gang of escaped slaves and
sympathetic whites (almost unheard of in the 1830s). They robbed
stores, merchants, and plantations. He survived being shot by hunters
in 1837, but a former ally named Francisco García bludgeoned
him to death with a club in order to claim a reward for $2,000.00.
That’s the short version of the story.
Unfortunately, it does nothing to identify this person in full
buckskins. I like to think it’s Bras-Coupé before his arm was removed.
Could that be right? I don’t know – and the statues aren’t telling.
060

061

Bishop C. M. Grace – 21 November 1992
This marker for Bishop C. M. Grace is one of the very few
professionally-made marble headstones at Holt Cemetery. It’s also one
of the most opaque information sets of all the markers on the property.
The text gives the deceased’s name, his dates of birth and death,
and a memorialization that reads as code. “Marvelous, Magnetic,
Majestic, Uncle Louie Loves Pa All Is Well.”
What does it all mean? Who is Uncle Louie? Could ‘Pa’ be an
abbreviation for ‘Pennsylvania’ … ? The term ‘cryptic’ is applicable
to this marker. It’s one of those things first acknowledged as ‘curious’
when seen, but which later creeps around the edge of the subconscious,
looking for meaning and finding none. It reads unlike any Bible verse
the departed may have liked in life, and points toward no answer.
This will, for me, always remain one of Holt’s Great Secrets.
Remember those annoying commercials from the T&V that yell out
“But WAIT! There’s MORE!” … ? No. There’s not. Turn the page.
062

063

A Seed Of Ham – 02 January 1993
“Hammurabi Sendeth You A Stone” … so reads the inscription that
bends beneath the arc of the tiny white marker on the grave of
Rev. John Washington, Sr., not too distant from the front gate of
Holt Cemetery. The marker says he was “A Decendent Of San
Bernardo Settlement.” I make no claim to understand that reference.
Family members and relatives probably know the meaning.
The empy rectangle under the inscriptions could indicate an
image or representation of the deceased to be viewed once displayed.
Time, however, has removed it from view. Another element worth noting
is the empty sheared rectangle under the ‘Hammurabi’ inscription.
There are a few other elements on Rev. Washington’s grave.
At top right – but not included in this image – is a small concrete pyramid
of three (or four) levels. It bears the All-Seeing Eye on a side which faces
the marker shown here. Its pyramidal form is rotated so as to be at
a 45° angle to the corner of the cement top. The marker shown
is surprisingly small, perhaps only 5 inches or so in height. Like that of
Bishop Grace, those who know them know the cryptology.
064

065

Art Smith’s Place, Holt Cemetery
– 09 September 1993 –
Holt Cemetery is one of the lesser-known jewels in the crown
of New Orleans. A potter’s field established in 1879, it’s next to Delgado
Community College at 527 City Park Avenue. Holt is unique when
compared with other New Orleans cemeteries – its burials take place
below-ground, not in above-ground tombs. Ownership of the plot
stays with the family so long as the plot is properly maintained.
The site shown here was maintained by a gentleman named
Art Smith, a truly unique person. I saw Art from time to time when
I visited Holt. We’d talk for a few minutes before getting back to our
separate reasons for being there.
During one conversation, I asked Art about the Xeroxed images
under Visqueen in assorted picture frames around the site. I asked first
if the lady in the pictures was his wife. Art said no, those were pictures
of his mother. I next asked if the gentleman in the frames was his father.
He said no, those were pictures of himself. Being more than a bit
confused, I pointed out that we were standing there talking, and
asked why he had framed images of himself on the grave. His answer
was classic Art: “Well, I just wanted to see how it’ll look before I go in it.”
Worked for him, works for me … Art’s place was never the same from
one visit to the next because he was always finding new objects to display
– like these chairs …
066

067

Black Beauty – 13 September 1992
In Loving Momory of Willie Jerome Clark
Born April 7,1966 / Died September 7, 1992
Lays In Peace beside his Ralatives.
So reads the memorialization written in black Sharpie on a papiermaché
marker that’s perhaps a foot or so high and would probably
remain intact for a month or two before being reduced by the elements
to its constituents and returned to the earth. This marker was placed
to remember the 26-year-old victim of a shooting. The pencilled text
inside the continent of Africa reads as follows:
On Sept 7, 1992 a 26 year old man was sian in the 1400 block of Milton St.
of multiple gun wound in the St Bernard Development. Shortly after 9pm office found
my son lying face up in between two building my Ralative at the scene identified my
son Willie Jerome Clark III to my acknowledge my son was rob I was told he was
fighting with one person when the other persons took his life. Shot him in his head he
die instantly. I Willie mother Lateefah Imani Ahmad Polk hurt for my child very
much, that he was taking that way. But God know best and now he lay in peace and
in my deepest memberance as a mother, my concern is I pray to God they get these
kind of people off the street for the sake of other victim, so they would be safe to walk
and live and don’t have to fear their lifes in these matter upon this earth from monster
thinking people who rob others of their lifes.
By Lateefah Imani Ahmad Polk
In concern of her son Willie Jerome Clark
068

069

She Is Go – 02 December 1993
There are many markers in Holt Cemetery. Most of them, with
the exception of marble government-issue military service markers
and some others made of stone, are usually made of organic materials
like plywood, barge board, papier maché, and occasionally flat-poured
concrete, the memorialization written with a fingertip.
This marker for a lady named Lilly Bell is one of the more poignant
and durable markers at Holt. It’s also difficult to photograph because
there are usually flowers held by a wire frame that obstructs the text.
On this day, the text was fully visible. Flowers were there, but no frame.
The sentiment is heartfelt. The marker’s sturdy construction
shows a great deal of time, thought, and effort was put into ensuring
it would be as good as it could be. The ruled lines ensure the text is
evenly spaced and on the same line; the ball-and-stick letterforms
ensure ease of reading. The spelling is phonetic, as it’s pronounced.
The dates for some are missing, but that’s true of many markers at
Holt. I’d like to think this marker survived Katrina’s visit to the city
in 2005. Maybe it did. A lot of pirogues capsized during that time,
but y’ have to keep paddlin’ as long as you’re in it … let’s push off again.
070

071

Dorthy Jagkson – 13 September 1993
Toward the back of the circular drive of Holt Cemetery is a plain,
unassuming marker. The name impressed into its concrete is that of
Miss Dorthy Jagkson. The shape of the marker, tho’, is what makes
it memorable. It’s formed in the shape of a Gingerbread Man –
or Gingerbread Lady, as it were. The spelling, although unusual, may be
the way her last name was really spelled. It may also be the way it was
pronounced, with letters pressed deep into the form while it was still wet.
No matter the spelling or the pronunciation, this undated little
headstone is one of the single most charming pieces of Headstone As
Art on the property. Its stubby little ‘arms’ appear to give a welcoming
hug to the occupant whose name it displays. Its ‘cookie-cutter’ shape
implies the person memorialised may have been somewhat young.
It does, after all, give the distinct impression of a small and friendly
‘person’ who wants to reach out, grab your hand, and play with you.
See how that ‘anthropomorphic’ thing works? There I go, projecting
all sorts of human qualities onto an inanimate object. Don’t laugh –
you’re going to do the same thing. Yes you will. I know you will.
You’re doing it even as you read this. So there. Let’s paddle on
down the Bayou now, shall we?
072

073

Jessie ‘Ooh Poo Pah Doo’ Hill
– 25 November 1997 –
Among New Orleanians who came of age – so to speak – in the
1960s, there are probably only a handful who never heard of Jessie Hill
or ‘Ooh Poo Pah Doo.’ What were the lyrics to ‘Ooh Poo Pah Doo’?
Who knew? Who cared? It was funky; it was cool. It was mos’ scoscious,
the Party Time Music of Life’s Bayou. Its lyrics, if known, were usually
those that said ‘And I won’t stop tryin’ / ’til I create a disturbance in your mind.’
Any other lyrics were just lagniappe.
The afternoon I came upon Jessie’s marker, it looked almost new.
The shape and coloration that make it distinctive obviously took
a good deal of time and planning. It was relatively pristine then,
but wouldn’t stay that way for long.
Jessie’s marker was 180 degrees from the position seen here.
The background in that direction was a wire hurricane fence.
I repositioned it to provide a background with the marker bright and
front-lit instead of shadowed and back-lit. It was rotated, photographed,
and rotated back to its original position. No problem. The background
was now right for the New Orleans funk legend who’s probably still
creating a disturbance in someone’s mind somewhere …
074

075

Bong Son, ’67 – 11 November 1993
Garden of Memories on Airline Highway in Metairie, LA was
the site of the first visit to New Orleans by the VietNam Moving Wall
exhibition in 1993. It opened to hundreds, and eventually thousands,
of attendees. The drive to the event was along the Avenue of Flags,
each bearing a service member’s name. To say a visit to the Wall is a
moving experience is to engage in the highest form of understatement.
Attendees could visit a tent maintained by the local chapter of
VietNam Veterans of America (‘VVA’). There, they could look up names
of service members and locate that section of the Wall bearing the name
they sought. The name I checked doesn’t appear on the Wall.
It takes a long time to walk the length of the Wall, even the reduced
scale version on display. No section of the Wall lacked messages or
memorabilia. The VVA provided paper and crayon for rubbings.
Almost every foot of the ground behind a low line of twine guiding
foot traffic along the path was covered with messages, flag, ribbons, and
patches. The patch here represents the First Cavalry Division, First
Squadron, Ninth Cavalry Regiment, or ‘First of the Ninth.’ The regiment
was organized on 21 September 1866 in New Orleans, Louisiana, and
mustered between September 1866 and 31 March 1867. The dedication
patch is for the Battle of Bong Son in 1967 and a Trooper named Ty.
076

077

Truth In Advertising – 12 December 1999
The rarest form of humor is the unexpected humor which reveals
a truth that, once exposed, is realized as having been obvious the whole
time. That it’s not, wasn’t, and isn’t is even better. It’s the most inside of
inside jokes, and probably generates more ‘Duh!’ moments than any other
type of humor. The best part is that, once revealed, the connection can
never be reversed. There’s a saying that tells us “The mind, once stretched by
a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions” – and that’s especially true
in this case. You can’t unthink it.
This sign near the gates of Greenwood Cemetery tells all who view
it that it’s an ‘Exit Only.’ One thing is quite certain about a cemetery:
it functions only as an exit – never an entry.
I don’t think too many visitors make this subtle connection.
If the cemetery’s owners do, I applaud their perpetuation of one of the
best-kept inside jokes in New Orleans by leaving the sign exactly where
it is. Life’s Bayou needs a little bit of humor, too …
078

079

Talking With Jesus
(On The Atomic Telephone)
– 17 November 1992 –
It’s not every day that you see a carefully-made tiled mosaic on the
wall of a cemetery facing a bus stop. That’s one more egg in the casket
of ‘Things That Make New Orleans Special.’
This pay phone ‘two-fer’ and the Mosaic Wall are at the corner
of Canal Street at City Park Avenue. Cypress Grove is the cemetery
immediately behind the plastered wall.
The ‘Atomic Telephone’ comes into being because this mosaic
of Jesus is in the vicinity of a two-pay-phone stand. That brought to
mind a tune recorded in 1952 by The Spirit of Memphis Quartet titled
‘The Atomic Telephone’. It only took one listen for me to be hooked.
It captured the spirit of the time without invoking a fear of Imminent
Nuclear Death while hiding under a school desk covering your head.
If you’d like to read a bit more, here’s the discography information:
http://www.crossrhythms.co.uk/articles/music/Spirit_Of_
Memphis_Quartet_Tracing_the_history_of_a_classic_gospel_
group/39430/p1/
Although it’d be nice if this were larger, it’s easy to see how that would
increase the Degree of Difficulty by at least an order of magnitude.
Weight would increase, and securing it would become problematic.
That being the case, let’s just enjoy the time, thought, and effort
an unknown someone devoted to the creation of a very mysterious but
nicely-turned-out piece of work for those who only stand and wait …
080

081

Steadfast – 21 April 1993
From the ‘Atomic Telephone’ outer wall of Cypress Grove Cemetery,
let’s move to an ‘inside-the-walls’ memorialisation of Henrietta Sides,
the wife of John Davidson. Her statue, like many others in cemeteries
everywhere, shows her with her right hand resting on an anchor.
What, you ask, does it mean? Did she die at sea? Possibly – but that’s
only one interpretation; there are others. Need some examples?
To early Christians, the anchor was a disguised cross, and also
a marker guiding the way to secret meeting places. In most sea-faring
areas, it can be an occupational symbol or represent Saint Nicholas,
the patron saint of seamen. An anchor with a broken chain represents
the cessation of life. Conversely, the anchor by itself is a representation of
the hope that life goes on after death. It can also represent steadfastness
in faith or the grave of a seafarer. So many symbols, so little time – and
this simple anchor is only one of them.
If you suspected that this might just be a double exposure, then
pat yourself on the back – it is, it is!
082

083

St. Expedite, Save Me Now – 07 October 1992
It’s something as regular as the Change of Seasons: GothiKids
performing ‘Junior VouDou’ on Hallow’een in cemeteries across
New Orleans. That, tho’, was not the case this day. This was only a
‘trial run’ before their Big Day.
How easily can you verify their activity on Hallow’een? Ma chér,
all you got to did is walk tru’ any cemetery picked at random and look
for a trail of smashed vegetables, burnt offerings, and wax candles that
have the initials of the intended victim scratched into the forehead area.
The ‘FauxDou’ isn’t why the GothiKids do this – they do it so
they can talk a young female child into lettin’ them have their way in a
spooky setting. Without going into greater detail, let’s ask the question
made famous by one Miss Tina Turner: ‘What’s Love Got To Do With It?’
Ablosutely nothing.
This small collection of Toys From The Dark Side was discovered
a few days prior to All Soul’s Day at the entrance to the Maunsel White
tomb in Cypress Grove Cemetery. The partially burned red wax skull
bears the initials ‘J.R.E.’ scratched into it; the St. Expedite candle is
slightly used, but still contains wax. The eggplants and oranges weren’t
worth including. In matters of things ‘voudou,’ St. Expedite wasn’t
a major player, but historic accuracy wasn’t needed for the evening’s
‘festivities.’ If you encounter these ones, ask if they’ve ever ‘performed’
at the tomb of Marie LaVeaux …
084

085

Birds Of The Cross – 27 November 1994
This is a single-vault tomb in Greenwood Cemetery. It possesses
some of the most unique ironwork I’ve seen used for any entombment.
The most puzzling part of the construction is what appears to be two
nesting places for birds. Could I be wrong about their purpose? Sure.
Until a reliable source of information about their real purpose is found,
I’ll continue to refer to them as birdhouses.
The crosses are traceable to Church symbology, but different artistic
renderings are applied to their three separate instances. A small cross
with pointed arms sits on an iron ball atop the larger metal crosses.
The birdhouse crosses are almost Escher-esque in their style. Large iron
bands encircle the perforated crosses where, over time, some of the arc
sections have broken off, as seen at right.
There was no nameplate or other family name identifier that could
be found for this vault. For now, it’ll have to remain one of the great
Unsolved Mysteries of New Orleans …
086

087

The Final Muster – 27 September 1998
The most distinctive and easily-viewable monument in Metairie
Cemetery is the statue of General Albert Sidney Johnston atop his
horse, ‘Fire Eater.’ It’s one of two works by the sculptor Alexander Doyle
at the tumulus of the Army of Tennessee, Louisiana Division. The statue
at the base of the tumulus represents a Confederate officer about to
read the roll of those soldiers killed during the Civil War. It symbolically
represents all Confederate soldiers. Burials continued in the Army of
Tennessee Tumulus until December 30th, 1929, when the last Civil War
survivor was buried.
The most distracting elements for anyone taking pictures of
the tumulus and its statuary elements are the wires in the background.
They’ve been removed here, but they’re easily viewable there.
For quite a long span of time, I knew almost nothing about the
Army of Tennessee or the Louisiana Division. There’s a lot of history
to be learned about these units. In another part of Metairie Cemetery,
the tumulus for the Army of Northern Virgina hosts a statue of
General Thomas ‘Stonewall’ Jackson.
When you visit the tumuli, bring your camera with you – and plan to
spend quite a bit of time in Photoshop making your images wire-free.
Life’s Bayou doesn’t have an app for that … well, not yet.
088

089

The Bird Reconsiders – 21 July 2001
The Army of Northern Virginia tumulus displays this statue
of General Thomas ‘Stonewall’ Jackson on a 38-foot-high column.
Like General Johnston, he’s not buried within the tumulus, but in
Lexington, Virginia. The bird has no historical connection I’m aware
of to the history it sits atop. Sometimes it’s best to not overthink things
too much; just take in the time and the place.
090

091

The Light Of Wonder
– 05 November 1992 –
The text displayed reads that it’s dedicated to Santa Maria di
Odigitria, Piana dei Greci. I know nothing about this individual, but
a bit of research produced the following information, taken from the site
whose URL appears below:
http://sicilia.indettaglio.it/eng/comuni/pa/pianadeglialbanesi/pianadeglialbanesi.html
“Originally Piana degli Albanesi was called Hora, that means
town. It was founded in 1488 by a group of Albanian refugees
escaped to Turkish army. King John II of Spain allowed them
to occupy that place and to preserve their Greek cult so that
the small town had the name of Piana dei Greci. In the times it
changed into Piana degli Albanesi. Since 1941 it rises on a hill;
below it there is a basin that is the cradle of an artificial lake.
The most important monuments are the Cathedral Church
with Greek rite and dates back to 1590; the chiesa di Santa Maria
Odigitria (Church of St. Mary Odigitria) built in 1644 according
to architect Pietro Novelli’s plan; the chiesa di S. Giorgio (Church
of St. George), the oldest of the town, and the chiesa di S. Vito
(Church of St. Vito) with an imposing portal.”
This was one of the nicest – and most interesting – sites seen that day.
It became a magnet on almost every visit after the first. This image, as you
may have guessed, is a double exposure.
092

093

Perchance To Dream – 09 March 1996
The family mausoleum of Charles T. Howard in Metairie Cemetery
holds a most marvelous statue. On most visits, the iron doors were
chained shut, allowing only a view through their bars. On this day,
the chains were unlocked. Sometimes we’re the windshield, sometimes
we’re the bug. This was a ‘windshield’ kinda day.
A bit of research shows that Mr. Howard was born in Baltimore,
MD. He organized and became First President of the Louisiana
State Lottery Company in 1869, and lived on St. Charles Avenue.
In 1877, he reigned as King of the Mardi Gras Krewe known as Rex.
The craftsmanship of this statue always fascinated me. To be sure,
Metairie Cemetery has many statues that are finely made – this one,
though, has that “je n’est ce quoi” that sets it quite apart from the others.
With luck, this mausoleum was elevated enough to be unaffected
by the water from Katrina that flooded Metairie Cemetery as well as
others in the vicinity.
When you visit Metairie Cemetery, I hope the iron doors of this
mausoleum will be open for you as they were that day for me.
094

095

096

Uptown & Carrollton
__________________________________________
Where everything’s a half-hour away
from everything else …
097

Caire Bears – 02 September 1992
Found on the porch of a store in the ‘Antiques Section’ of
Magazine Street is this basket of Cute ’n Cuddlies. Without getting
too deep into the weeds of psychological terminology with ‘projection’
and ‘transference,’ let’s just agree this could be used for a ‘One Of These
Is Not Like The Others’ test.
The stuffed animals look fairly large here, but from the sidewalk, and
in a basket on a raised porch, they weren’t that easy to spot. I should have
asked for a single price to buy the basket and its contents, but noooooo.
That’s the kind of thing that brings on an after-the-fact Dope Slap.
Over time, I thought about what name each should have.
You know, like the Seven Dwarfs. ‘Dopey,’ ‘Grumpy,’ ‘Sleepy’ and
the rest are all taken. Nobody wants to be a copycat, right? After
all these years, I’m still trying to come up with names for them.
I’m considering naming one ‘Aqua Velva Man.’ The rest need to wait
their turn. On Life’s Bayou, names are most often usually ‘nice-to-know,’
not ‘need-to-know’ – except sometimes when they are.
098

099

Phrenology – 06 June 1999
Wow! Is this thing cool or what!? I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t make the
transition to a real-life tattoo, what with those lines so close to the eye
and all, but a grease pencil might work.
Walking in the coffee-shop area above Jefferson Avenue on Magazine
Street, this tiny head’s sightless eyes stared at passersby from its place
on a rack in the display window. It’s nicely-done, tho’, and it’s almost
a color match for that antique ‘Blue Willow’ pattern cup and saucer
next to it.
When you know a bit about the premise used to justify the
pseudoscience called ‘Phrenology,’ it’s easy to understand why people
are such easy prey for those one who make similar claims for worthless
‘treatments’ today.
The term ‘phrenology’ (phreno- “mind” + -logy “study of ”) dates to
1815. It was applied to the theory of mental faculties (originated by
Gall and Spurzheim) that led to the 1840s mania for reading personality
clues in the shape of one’s skull and the ‘bumps’ of the head.
Today’s concept of self-esteem (self- + esteem) began in the 1650s,
and was popularized by phrenology, which assigned it a ‘bump.’
Seems it’d be a bit of a bad day if your ‘Phrenologist’ said he couldn’t
find a ‘bump’ for that. Why, that could positively ruin your self-esteem
(How’d y’ like the irony of using ‘positively’ with ‘ruin’?). Fortunately, Phrenology
is now on the ash-heap of History. Unfortunately, its successors are
even dumber. Let’s move further on down the Bayou before it returns …
100

101

3th Ward – 22 June 1993
On Tchoupitoulas Street near Louisiana Avenue was an old Quonset
hut, and on its doors were spraypainted testimonals to the world that
these individuals had made their mark in life. Right there. On the door.
With spray paint. See?
Oh. You saw that street name, didn’t you? Tchoupitoulas. Right.
You’re wondering how it’s pronounced, aren’t you? Hint: Not like it’s
spelled. Does that help? No? Well okay, then. It’s pronounced like this:
chop-a-TOOL-iss. It’s an Indian word that means ‘Tchoupitoulas.’
Only kiddin’. Some people say its origin is French, because the Native
Americans who lived on the river caught a mudfish the French called a
‘choupic.’ (I’ve also seen that spelled as ‘choupique.’) My two cents says
it lies with the Chapitoulas Indians, whose name means ‘river people.’
If you’re wondering how to pronounce the name of that fish they caught,
just say ‘shoo-peek.’
There have been many spin-offs from the word ‘Tchoupitoulas,’ too.
The music of the Wild Tchoupitoulas is one example. If you’re a foodie,
you might want to look up a recipe for ‘Chicken Tchoupitoulas,’ which is
Cajun Chicken with Bearnaise sauce. Now it’s up to you, Gentle Reader,
to investigate all the other linguistic niceties that link to this fascinating
yet mysteriously strange-sounding word.
I’ll be heading further down the Bayou now …
102

103

This Little Piggy - 17 September 1993
A drive home in heavy late-afternoon traffic on Carrollton Avenue
was all the reason I needed to pull into the parking lot of a Chinese
restaurant for dinner. The food was always good, service quick, prices
reasonable. I parked in front of this statue. It’s a ‘You can’t un-see this!’
moment. I’d seen it many times before, but never noticed it except
in passing. This day was different.
I stopped to see what its huge right front paw rested on. It appeared
to be a pig (or piglet) which was now departed and visiting the Great Pork
Processing Facility In The Sky. Unless I’m mistaken, those sharp pointy
things are piercing a defenceless little piglet. One can only surmise
it parallels Monty Python’s ‘Norwegian Blue’ parrot, and is now
‘pining for the fjords.’ The dragon’s expression says ‘Don’t mess with me!’
What also comes to mind is a quote attributed to Genghis Khan, namely:
“The greatest happiness is to vanquish your enemies, to chase them before you, to rob
them of their wealth, to see those dear to them bathed in tears, to clasp to your bosom
their wives and daughters.” Somehow, this statue of piglet and the dragon
doesn’t seem to be too far out of context with that quote.
I’d like to learn the Li’l Arfin’ Annie Secret Decoder meaning to this
imagery. If you know, please feel free to share. Is piglet the loser of a
dodgeball contest with the dragon, or maybe something more sinister?
‘Enquiring minds … ’
104

105

Sweets – 01 November 1992
After driving up and down both sides of St. Charles Avenue looking
for interesting sites, I saw one of the local produce trucks parked near
the corner of Delachaise Street. That was a logical choice for a high
volume business. It was a pipeline for people going to and leaving work
at Touro Infirmary on Prytania Street a few blocks away. It was also
one of many locations where trucks set up their mobile truck stands.
The produce was good, the vendors helpful, and the prices reasonable.
This didn’t start out as a picture of a young lady selecting produce,
but once she walked into the frame, the improved composition was
so noticeable I couldn’t not record the moment. It’s not too bad for a
hand-colored Kodak TechPan 25 black-and-white photo, either.
Being a good street marketer involves a bit of Salesmanship and
Essential Hype. See those signs advertising ‘Santa Rosa Plums’?
Makes ’em sound all ‘exotic’ and ‘unique,’ right? Well, slow down a
minute, Clifford. You haven’t already figured out the translation of
that ‘exotic’ name? Think. In Spanish (maybe it’s the same in Italian,
too), it just means ‘Saint Rose.’ That’s straight up Airline Highway
as you head toward Baton Rouge. ‘Santa Rosa’ is ‘Saint Rose.’ The farm
was probably located on River Road. Does that give you an idea of
how ‘exotic’ they are? What it means is: The produce is local. This was
before the invasion of the ‘locavores,’ too. Remember: Think locally,
act globally. Or something like that.
106

107

Sail Away - 17 July 1991
A warm July mid-afternoon at Audubon Park near the fountain
inside the St. Charles Avenue entrance. It was a slow, lazy day made
slower and lazier by the high temperature and humidity. In other words,
a typical New Orleans summer day.
Looking around and seeing nothing while seeing everything, I turned
toward the fountain at the entrance and saw a young boy engrossed
in the minutiæ of launching his boat. On that day and at that time,
there was nothing more important to him than watching his boat cruise
over the water of the pond. The simplicity of the event was like that of
any other New Orleans summer afternoon.
I hope this young boy had many opportunities to revisit this fountain
and watch his boat go ’round. The memory of those days will stay
with him, to be recalled at those times when life isn’t so uncomplicated
as it was on this day.
108

109

Waitin’ For A Bite – 22 August 1992
When you drive to the back of Audubon Park, you’ll arrive at
the part known as ‘The Fly.’ It’s a reference to that part of the park’s
river viewing shelter that was shaped like a butterfly. Built in the ’60s,
it was torn down in the ’80s.
The Fly has wide-open green space, fields for recreational
activity, a playground, and really great views of the Mississippi River.
It’s open from 0500 until 2100 hours.
If you’re looking for a terrific place to just relax, get a bit of sun,
or do a bit of fishing, then this is the place for you. The guy who walked
away and left his pole unattended appears to be taking a bit of a risk,
but it’s his pole. Wait here … let me see if I can find him.
You’ll excuse me if I pick up my pole and paddle downstream before
he gets back … hurry up - hurry up. He’ll be back any minute now!
110

111

The NORTA Fix-It-Up Shop
– 17 September 1992 –
No matter what you think you see in this photo, it’s not that. New
Orleans operates one of the nation’s largest systems of Vintage Trolleys.
This is the NORTA Carbarn on Jeanette Street in the Carrollton area.
They rebuild and repair every streetcar that rides the rails of the city.
They also make by hand the majority of unique parts no longer available
from the original manufacturer. After Katrina, the original fleet of
thirty-five original heritage cars survived. They were used to gradually
return the streetcar lines to operation.
Car 29 is the Repair Car. It’s also the Sand Car, bringing sand to
refill sand barrels along the Canal Line. Its ‘work car’ dashboard striping
is gone, and it wears the same color scheme now as the St. Charles Ave.
cars: a green body, red doors, and silver dashboard striping. Its home is
still the Carrollton Station on Jeanette Street.
The Carbarn is where the streetcars are kept operational.
Without the skilled craftsmen who work their magic here, the steel
wheels of the Perley Thomas cars – and others – would quickly come to
a grinding halt.
The things people take for granted are only able to be taken for
granted because of the people who make the magic happen behind the
scenes. Maybe I should ask them to look at this leak in the pirogue.
I can ride the streetcar while they check it out. It’s just $1.25 – and a
quarter for the transfer …
112

113

Who’s Your Daddy? – 18 June 1993
If there were music playing in the background, it would have to be
Chuck Berry. He’d be singing a little-known tune called ‘Hey, Pedro.’
There’s a line in that tune that fits: ‘The leetle girl, she dance good, no?’
Well, there we go again with that unending anthropomorphism thing.
Sorry ’bout that.
The little display window set-piece seen here was on Magazine
Street in an area that once housed the noted architectural firm of
Curtis & Davis. This was a block or two away from there, but that’s close
enough for jazz.
The window reflects the other buildings in the area, which adds just
a bit more ‘mysterioso’ to the composition’s theme. It’s a game
any number can play. Create your own storyline. Project it onto the
characters in the setting. Assign each a history and a role. Shake well and
bake at 350° until done. How the story ends is up to you.
Oh – despite what your lyin’ eyes may have you believe,
the dancing girl is absolutely dry. The only ‘water’ is what’s created
courtesy of Photoshop.
Let’s get back in our pirogue and paddle on down to the next block
– I hear they just got a big batch of new stuff …
114

115

On The Scene – 12 October 1992
A late fall night in October of ’92 saw this house fire on Laurel
Street develop quickly into one that brought out at least eight response
vehicles from the New Orleans Fire Department. Pumper trucks,
hook-and-ladders, snorkel trucks, and firefighters who had to bring the
water to the base of the flames descended on the area. For more than
two and one-half hours, they fought this blaze until finally bringing it
under control. No other homes were damaged.
When you consider that the average space between the old homes in
Uptown New Orleans may be as little as ten feet, a fire in your neighbor’s
home could also mean the loss of your home. This night, that outcome
was prevented. It had nothing to do with luck – it had everything to do
with knowledge and skill.
There are some events on Life’s Bayou that are more memorable
than many others …
116

117

The Tchoupitoulas Water Tower
– 19 May 1992 –
This image was resurrected from an album submerged in
approximately three feet of water during Hurricane Katrina.
The negatives looked to be unsalvageable. Figuring there was nothing
to lose by trying, I slowly opened each packet of film strips and laid
them out to dry before trying to separate the four-frame sections.
This is just one of the images that were able to be saved. It’s not perfect,
and it clearly shows damage – but it still has an image.
This water tower on St. Andrew Street not far from Jackson
Avenue serviced the St. Thomas Development. Most people called it
‘the Projects,’ and it was built in the first wave of public housing, between
1938 and 1941. All of the buildings were two or three stories tall.
Rent in the projects then was between $8.25 to $22.00 per month.
The main source of revenue for New Orleans by the ’70s was tourism.
That made projects like St. Thomas very desirable – and very pricey –
real estate. The re-development of St. Thomas and other developments
began well before Hurricane Katrina. St. Thomas’ replacement,
known as River Gardens, had 182 units compared to its original 920.
This tower was a landmark for the longest time. Another nearby
landmark was the Glidden Paint Company building. Sara Mayo
Hospital was only a few blocks away, as was the business that developed
most of my film, Colorpix.
Let’s get back in our pirogue and see where else our trip takes us …
is it my turn to paddle?
118

119

120

Lake Pontchartrain
&
West End
__________________________________________
Where the blue of the night
meets the gold of the day …
121

Sunrise At Low Tide – Date Unknown, 1996
When I drove to Lake Pontchartrain this particular morning, I had
no idea I’d see the lake at the lowest level I’d ever seen. The tide was out
– way out, and items which were normally hidden were now viewable
by one and all. Bring the whole family – and some popcorn.
I parked in the Causeway Police lot, let them know I was on-site,
and told them I wouldn’t be there long. They were cool with that.
The ‘double-sun’ of the sunrise was an unexpectedly nice touch.
If I count the reflection in the filter glass, there are three suns.
(Why did I just flash on the ‘ST/TNG’ episode where Picard says
‘There. Are. FOUR. Lights!’?)
Had I been only a half-hour later, this scene would have disappeared.
It didn’t take long for the tide to creep back in, enveloping the pilings
and caressing the suddenly-exposed lake bottom in its wet embrace once
again. Wait – can I say stuff like that … ? It sounds awfully – umm –
‘racy.’ Tell ya what – you think about it, and I’m gonna step over here
and get in the pirogue. Take your time – I’ll wait …
122

123

MV ‘Alexandria’ – 05 October 1994
A balmy October day in 1994 and a drive around and through West
End to see if anything new was there. Imagine, then, my surprise when
I rounded the bend that leads to the entrance of Southern Yacht Club.
As the distance shortened, I had to look once, then twice, then again to
make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing and yes, I was …
and it wasn’t even Mardi Gras.
One of the things on my ‘I Won’t See That Today’ list was a pirate
ship. Oh-oh. Color me wrong. My eyes fed me the correct data – now
I had to act on it. I parked in the Southern Yacht Club’s lot (also known
as the ‘Sudden Yat Club’) and walked to the boardwalk next to the ship.
Yep, it was a genuine ship of sail, complete with masts and rigging, netting,
and big ol’ anchor thingies. Look though I may, I saw nary a sail – until
I accidentally looked in the right spot. That sort of thing happens when
you’re non-nautical. Things that those familiar with the subject would
spot right away go unnoticed by a novice who only knows a little bit
about pirogues.
A passer-by looked knowledgeable about boats, so I asked him about
the pirate ship and why it was at SYC. He said the ship had been used
in a movie featuring Tom Cruise, and was on the way back to its
home port since filming was completed. He said it was powered by diesel
engines and didn’t need to rely on the wind to get home. It’s good if
someone’s around to provide answers to life’s little questions. That way,
you can blame them later when someone tries to correct you.
124

125

Strawberries – 12 August 1992
What can be said in here that the image doesn’t say for itself ?
It’s one of the scenes that cross the field of vision briefly, lights up our
eyes and, like the ‘Moving Finger,’ moves on to be seen no more.
This brightly-colored sailboat bearing the name ‘Strawberries’
on its stern swept gracefully past the spit of land projecting into
Lake Pontchartrain from West End with what seemed an unusual
accompaniment behind it.
I thought a paper cup had fallen overboard and was being carried
along by the wake. Looking closer, I saw a piece of string running from
the stern, where it was tied, to a tiny plastic boat following it to the lake.
By way of invalid comparison, it was a bit like watching a parent
or older brother taking a younger family member into the world for
the first time. Maybe Big Boat is taking Baby Boat out to show it what
shrimp and crabs look like. It’s not often a sense of humor is seen
‘in the wild,’ so to speak. This was both comforting and reassuring …
and the only appropriate music here is 1979’s ‘The Kids Are Alright’ by
The Who – but that was then, and this was now. That boat’s a lot bigger
than this pirogue, too …
126

127

Ship Of Many Flags – 06 October 1992
A sailboat in full dress with flags flying under a soft October sky in
mid-afternoon light. Does it get any better than that?
My knowledge of boats and boating is admittedly limited.
The things I know about boating will fill a teacup, with room left over.
That said, I know just two types of boats: Power boats and sailboats.
I know, that’s an oversimplification and there are many subcategories
and types. I only present observation and opinion. Knowing nothing
about boats other than they’re big ‘floaty’ things, I can only look at ’em
wide-eyed and say ‘Oooh!’
The difference between power boats and sailboats for me
is summarised as follows: Power boats are the ‘muscle cars’ of WaterWorld,
and sailboats are the ultimate presentation of grace, style, and elegance.
Power boats are the Ferraris, Maseratis, and Lamborghinis; sailboats are
the Aston-Martins, Bentleys, and Rolls-Royces.
There’s no right or wrong – just differences of type and function.
It was just as good on the days when Al Copeland’s jet boat screamed
over the Lake as it was on the days when sailboats bobbed on the waves
to float in and out of the Harbor. Al’s jet boat was way cool, tho’.
These are opinions only, and your mileage may vary.
128

129

Sailing Home – Date Unknown, 1993
Although this image is undated, I’m reasonably sure it was
taken in either late August or early September of 1993. Once again,
‘The Point’ provides the best place for photographing boats as they enter
and exit the harbor. While they may have been quite the speedy mode
of transport on the open lake, when they headed into harbor they were
restricted to the speed limit imposed on all boats in its jurisdiction.
This sailboat seemed to glide across the water as if it weren’t there.
The slight chop on the lake didn’t affect it as it continued its slow, graceful
voyage at Viewing Procession speed until disappearing from view.
For all my lack of knowledge about things nautical, I can still be
impressed by the graceful lines of the craft themselves. Even though
sailboats are sleeker and more graceful than their up-engined cousins,
both types have their own beautiful lines. The ‘muscle boats’ are more
aggressively designed, but are no less attractive – just different.
Were it not for a childhood incident (which we won’t go into here)
involving the New Basin Canal, an overpowered skiff, and a turn made
at the wrong time with the wrong angle of attack, I may have had
a different relationship with boating. As ‘The Wizard’ says at the end of
‘Conan, The Barbarian,’ “But that is another story” … Now let’s get back
to the pirogue and keep on movin’.
130

131

The Met Station – 01 October 1991
The ‘met station.’ ‘Met’ is shorthand for ‘meteorological,’ and this
was the weather station manned by the United States Coast Guard at
West End. The facility has since relocated to the Metairie side of the
17th Street Canal in Bucktown. Whether the old building still maintains
any operational equipment or was converted to a showpiece for visitors
is unknown, but it’s still in its old location.
This structure was always a favorite of mine. Its lines are simple,
stylish, and classic. The lighthouse at the top with its wooden railing
around the walkway is a perfect accent piece.
No visit to the lake was complete without driving a strip of asphalt
where the Hong Kong restaurant (the first place I ate abalone) and
Joe’s Crab Shack (Free Crabs Tomorrow!) did business. When the turn onto
Lakeshore Drive made its gentle curve to the right (or left, depending on
where you went), the Coast Guard met station was in view, even from
the pirogue. It was always like seeing an old friend again.
The USCG met station will be an iconic memory for all fortunate
enough to see it. With luck, it will be maintained for years to come,
if only as a reminder of ‘The Olden Days.’ The lighthouse will be
quite helpful when paddlin’ the pirogue in late at night, y’ know …
132

133

The Moment In Time – 27 August 1991
134

135

Freedom – Date Unknown, 1992
Crossing the levee at the end of Severn Avenue in Metairie and
walking down to the lake on the batture side of the levee provides a great
view of Lakeway Nr 1 and Nr 2. The silver film covering their glass
reflects the sky and everything else around them. It also makes a great
visual counterpoint to the darkening sky at sunset – as it did here.
There’s something quite nice about a calm lake reflecting the
surroundings on its glass-like surface. It’s great for ‘attitude adjustment.’
If you’re recovering from a day in a cube farm or other high-pressure
environment, visit the lake. It’s nice if you have time to change into
comfortable clothes first, but it’s not mandatory.
The Severn Avenue part of the lake is close to the Causeway that
whisks people back and forth between the North and South shores.
It’s relatively secluded, and doesn’t have the larger numbers of viewers
found at West End or the Bonnabel launch sites. If you want a greater
assurance you’ll be alone with your thoughts, this is the place to be.
I didn’t plan to have the bike in this, but as luck would have it,
a rider pulled up and parked directly in front of me before walking off
to be with his thoughts. No ‘Do you mind?’ or ‘Sorry.’ He just parked and
left. It couldn’t have worked out any better had I planned it this way.
The pirogue stayed tied to its dock while I took in the moment …
136

137

The Storm Before The Calm
– 15 September 1992 –
Occasionally we do things that common sense tells us we shouldn’t
do. This is an example of one of those ‘occasionallys.’
The weather guys had been on-screen telling us repeatedly to stay
home. ‘There’s a bad storm coming!’ Yeah yeah yeah. We’d heard it
before, and usually it was all wind and no rain. That being the history
of our WX guys, when they said this was going to be a bad storm,
I put it in the category of Fred Sanford’s “This is the big one, Elizabeth!”
and drove to West End. I shouldn’t have done that, y’ know.
This was one of the times they were right. Once at West End and the
Yacht Harbor, I knew by the number of boats secured in their slips that
something was coming – not necessarily something good.
The southeast wind picked up and rain hit the skin like BBs.
Those signs told me I’d made a big error in judgment and it was
time to leave. See? I can learn. It wasn’t easy paddlin’ the pirogue
down Life’s Bayou that day, but it was a whole lot better than
capsizing in the water, right?
138

139

Song At Sunset – 15 September 1992
Parking at the end of Severn Avenue in Metairie and walking over
the levee and down the batture brings you down to the edge of Lake
Pontchartrain. Be careful, though. There’s a long strip of rough asphalt
surfacing that runs parallel to the lake. It’s referred to as a ‘bike path.’
Better it should be called ‘Attorney Alley’ or ‘Ankle Breaker.’ Walking on
grass was a lot safer than taking the ‘bike path.’ Maybe it’s fixed now.
Who’d expect to see a guy at the lake in late afternoon playing music
while he kept the lake company? Sure, it’s a nice touch, but would you
ever see this in Nebraska? Nuh-unh, Herbie. It’s a N’Awlins thing …
140

141

Oh, That’s A Good One! – 19 August 1993
The pirogue pulled into a slip in the Municipal Yacht Harbor and
I decided to walk around that section of Life’s Bayou. Big boats. Little
boats. Boats with shiny Gelcoat finishes. Boats in need of a shiny Gelcoat
finish. Pilings. Everywhere pilings. Pilings all over the place. Suddenly,
this piling came into view. It had a Happy Little Dinosaur on top,
and its tail was nailed to the piling. ‘Well, that’s just not right,’ I thought.
Then I remembered it was only a rubber toy, not a real dinosaur.
That made me feel all better. It’s a neat idea, tho’ – and it makes it easy
to spot your slip among all those others without a dinosaur. It’s called
‘Prior Planning’ …
After that, I got back in the pirogue ’cos that was just too much
excitement for me in one day. It’s a lot easier paddling down the Bayou
– so I did.
142

143

Sunset Fishing – 15 September 1991
The former fishing pier that was once used by many a visitor to
Lake Pontchartrain for viewing, romancing, or just fishing was an
ideal icon to use in any image. Backlit, frontlit, or lit from the side,
it was always an instantly-reconizable icon to virtually every viewer.
No ambiguity need apply.
Depending on the time of year – or time of day – the type of visitor
or user varied by purpose. Mid-day was the time of heaviest traffic.
People gathered at the rail to watch jet ski acrobats perform aquatic
escapades. If their performance was recorded by the viewers, that was
a plus. Early morning was either no traffic or a few hardy souls arriving
with fishing pole to hand and a tackle box full of lures at their side.
Afternoon, whether early or late, was the time that late-day fishermen,
romantic duos, or small families arrived at the pier to watch the
sun sink below the horizon.
This day had only one player in its ‘What Can You Catch?’
Instant Winner contest that pitted Man against Fish. Fishermen made
use of the bait and cleaning station, where there was a surface for scaling
and gutting the catch, and a faucet for quick and easy clean-up of their
hands and tools. I wasn’t there long enough to know if this fisherman
went home with dinner or just an appetite. I hope it was dinner.
144

145

Pontchartrain Sunset, West End – 15 May 1993
There was no pier like this in the ‘60s.
There was only The Point (pron. ‘Da Pernt’).
There was Lenfant’s and The Rockery, but …
Dates asked why we were at The Point,
and the universal reply was always:
‘To watch the submarine races.’
This pier is so much classier.
146

147

148

Metairie
&
Jefferson Parish
__________________________________________
You hold it - I’ll light it …
149

Girl, Did You Hear About – 17 September 1993
Early one morning I wended my weary way to the Laundromat on
Green Acres Road near Veterans Boulevard because my washer had
seen fit to die over the weekend. That never happens at a good time.
Bundling the Clothing Needing Cleaning, I drove to the laundromat,
put everything in the washer, and went for a bit of a walkabout.
Immediately adjacent to the laundromat were two other businesses.
To the left was a gas station’s pay-inside operation. To the right was
a ladies’ hair salon; further down was a restaurant that seemed to be
under new management every other week.
Peering into the closed salon, the chairs and hair dryers appeared
to engage in a silent conversation of the kind held only by inanimate
objects. Maybe it was the positioning of the dryers – I dunno. Either
way, it was an image with furniture and équipages that were rapidly
vanishing. It seemed fitting to memorialize them in a manner that
suggested what may have gone on during business hours. Maybe the
ladies were ‘Marge’ and ‘Vera,’ and the shop owner was named ‘Trudi.’
So was born the Imaginary Conversation. The Extra Added Attraction
was the reflection of the Mighty PimpMobile in the shop window’s glass.
That’s what carried me to the laundromat, remember?
A few clicks to record the moment, a quick dry and fold, and a return
trip home on the Air-Soft Ride of the Mighty PimpMobile. Did you say
the shape of the dryers may have been where ‘SNL’ got their inspiration
for ‘The Coneheads’? I bet you did.
150

151

Aut, Not Science – 22 August 1992
Found this interesting little accidental composition one morning
on the way up Airline Highway to Norco and LaPlace. It was just past
Power Boulevard and the Recycling Center. Oddly enough, what caught
my eye wasn’t the huge truck tires. What I noticed was the corrugated
metal wall displaying the letters ‘AUT.’
I knew there would soon be an ‘O’ added to the first three letters,
and this would just become boring. Best to get it while it was there.
It lent itself easily to a really stupid question: Is it AUT – or Science?
See? I said it was really stupid.
Moving to the tires, we come upon another questionable set of
letters. Do they spell ‘Used Tires’ or ‘Useds Tire’? That could have
been avoided, y’ know. A bit more space, and the problem is gone.
If they’d done that, tho’, it wouldn’t have caught the attention nearly as
well. Maybe that ‘mistake’ was a purposeful error – like ‘Aut.’ Or not.
We’ll never know. Oh - that ‘O’ at the end of ‘AUT’? It was never added.
The sun’s gettin’ higher in the sky now, so let’s get back in the pirogue
and paddle down Life’s Bayou into the shade of those trees. Right.
Those ones over there … let’s go …
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153

Contemplating The Abyss – 21 November 1995
What was it Nietzsche said about the abyss? “Beware that, when fighting
monsters, you yourself do not become a monster, for when you gaze long into the abyss,
the abyss gazes also into you.”
That seemed to be applicable to the situation this little Teddy bear
found itself in when I happened upon the earth moving equipment it
was attached to. This machine was used in the process of tearing up
a parking lot and a few other things being replaced at a McDonald’s
on Green Acres Road at Veterans Boulevard in Metairie, LA in ’95.
If I let myself go ‘full anthropomorphic’ on this image, there are
levels upon levels to be laid bare when it comes to symbolism and
meaning – inherent or attributed. I appreciate the simple version of
things. I choose to see a Teddy staring down at whatever lies below with
a sense of child-like wonder, amazed he can be part of something so cool.
I postulate he’s happy because the operator of the equipment wanted to
show him what he does during the day. Maybe he sees a strand of beads
left over from Mardi Gras. Wow … See what I mean about throttling
back the anthropomorphism … ?
A Zen koan tells us: “When one knows nothing about mountains and looks at
a mountain, one sees a mountain. When one knows a little bit about mountains, one
looks at a mountain and sees more than a mountain. When one knows all there is to
be known about mountains, one looks at a mountain and sees a mountain.”
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155

Gotta Be Here Somewhere – 17 September 1993
Driving up Airline Highway one sunny morning, I saw something in
the distance that looked interesting. The closer I got, the more interesting
it became. When I was at the site, it became really interesting. For a brief
moment after I exited the Mighty PimpMobile, I thought I was looking
at a real, live, flesh-and-blood Human Being with his head stuck inside a
transmission housing while perched on top of a metal pole. Talk about
Gullible’s Travels …
Once I realised what I was looking at, it was even more impressive –
and incredible. There was no signage to indicate which company created
the work. Usually those who make signs like this want their name in
front of the public to attract more work, but there was nothing to see.
It’s possible it was done entirely by the transmission shop personnel as an
attention-getter. If it was, they did one helluva job making it believable.
This is a real ‘trompe l’oeil’ …
The ‘unknown’ was whether the overalls contained a mannequin
form or were just stuffed with rags or batting. Just a quick thought about
how long this had been in the weather and how well it still displayed
makes me favor the mannequin. It has solidity and rigidity, making it
easier to move than a set of overalls stuffed with rags. The other benefit
to a mannequin is weather resistance. Rags or batting wouldn’t hold up
to the constant exposure to wind, rain, or other outdoor phenomena.
My money’s on the mannequin form. Big props to the creators of this
great piece of advertising art. Ya did good, podnuhs …
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157

The Industrial Spider – 17 September 1992
On this bright, shiny September afternoon, I noticed activity taking
place under the Power Boulevard I-10 overpass. Another flyover was
being built above it, and I could see its hardhatted construction crew
working there. Off to the side was a long greyish tube that rose up to the
crew from the ground. Color me curious.
I walked up the ramp past the Barricade of Cones that kept traffic
off of the Power Blvd. ramp and looked over the edge. What lay below
was magnificent. It was a concrete pumper with its stabilizers deployed.
It resembled nothing so much as a trapdoor spider in its lair … waiting.
This isn’t something that’s seen every day, especially when you’re
in a pirogue on Life’s Bayou. Grabbing the EverReady Camera and
steadying it on the railing, the pics were done in a matter of minutes.
Late afternoon on a September day with an ‘Industrial Spider’ for
company. Does it get any better?
Okay. That’s enough reminiscin’ – grab a push pole, ’cos we’re
gettin’ back on the Bayou …
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159

One Dime, One Dance – 26 March 1995
The car shows were something to behold. Elmwood Center was the
place to be when the hoods went up and the paint would glisten in the
sun. There were old cars, new cars, kit cars, vintage cars, motorcycles,
three-wheelers, funny cars, and anything else your little automotive
mind could wish for.
One thing was always certain – there was always excellent
workmanship on display to satisfy the most critical attendee. If anyone
went home saying there wasn’t enough variety, they were in the
‘Impossible To Please’ category and should never be taken seriously.
This vehicle, with the lunch-counter jukebox atop its radiator, was
one of the most interesting cars on view this day. The jukebox was
labeled ‘For Display Only.’ No matter how many dimes you put in,
you’d never hear a tune.
For overall visual effect, the combination of chrome and paint under
the bright noon-day sun was hard to beat. There were a few competitors,
but none had that ‘little bit extra’ this one had. Step up and take a
bow … you earned it. The most unexpected things come into view on
Life’s Bayou sometime.
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161

Going Down – 22 May 1999
Once there was a building called the Security Homestead building.
It was on Veterans Memorial Boulevard in Metairie, Louisiana, only
a few blocks from where I lived. I first became aware something may
be about to happen the day I saw the crane with a wrecking ball at the
end of a long wire cable driving onto wooden platforms placed on the
ground to keep its treads from sinking into the mud.
As time went on, signs became increasingly obvious that the Grand
Finale was rapidly approaching. If I was going to get any closeup
images, I’d need permission from the site’s General Manager to be on
the property. A quick visit to his on-site trailer got me the permission
I needed. While I was there, I asked if they had considered performing
an implosion. You know – like Jamie on ‘MythBusters’ – “Jamie want
Big Boom!” He said that couldn’t be done because of the soil type in the
location. If the building were brought down by implosion, the shock
wave transmitted to adjacent properties through the soil would wreak
havoc on their piping and water supply lines. Well, alright then …
As demolition progressed, enough of the building was removed so
the Inner Sanctum of its Central Core was now revealed. I suspect it
housed the elevators in real life. The only way to capture that was from
across the street, so I parked there. The structure in this picture was
gone two days after this was taken. A Wreckin’ Ball waits for no one.
Neither does our pirogue. What? I thought you tied it up. You didn’t?
Okay – let’s start looking for it before it gets dark …
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163

Be 18 Or Die – 10 May 1999
Near the sharp ‘S’ curve of Jefferson Highway where Canton
Restaurant, Bowl-A-Rama, and Jahncke Concrete’s yard used to be
was a place called the Sport Palace. The cinderblock exterior wore
a base coat of blue paint, and its artwork was painted over that.
One afternoon I stopped to image some of them. After a few exposures
were made, another part of the building was inspected to see the rest of
the artworks.
Whoa! As I turned the corner, I saw a sign in the door and knew it
was going to be the image of the day. ‘Be 18 or Die’ … there’s not a lot of
subtlety goin’ on in that message, is there? No sirree Bob …
Time for a brief description of why this looks the way it does.
The shutter release was pressed, a ‘click!’ was heard, and the exposure
was under way. It was long, about two minutes. About halfway through
the exposure, the door swung wide as a customer left the building.
Oh-ohh! What’s that gonna do?
Unexpectedly, the customer’s exit had provided a view of the interior
and the vending machine’s lights inside. I could never have gotten that
with the door closed. It would have been a sign that said ‘Be 18 or Die.’
If I met him today, I’d shake his hand and say ‘Thanks.’
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165

Metaire Shrimp – 10 June 1994
Looking at that truck, I hear the words “Oh Grandma!, what big teeth you
have!” Does that make sense? Probably not. It’s a subconscious response
to a primal image. Big scary thing coming at me! As King Arthur said
to his Knights in Monty Python’s ‘Quest for the Holy Grail’ when the
Killer Rabbit wreaked havoc: “Run away! Run away!”
Slipping back into the Real World again, this hugemongous truck
was parked on Airline Highway in Metairie, LA. I was next door and,
doing a quick read of the visuals, had to remind myself to not laugh
until I (or the truck) was out of sight.
So: What got the Laff-O-Matic running, you ask? It’s an inside joke
kinda thing, but if you view what’s been stamped into the Big Chrome
Bumper of the truck, you’ll read the words ‘Metaire Shrimp.’
One tiny little problem … The letters in that Big Chrome Bumper
should spell ‘METAIRIE SHRIMP.’ There are two ‘i’s in ‘Metairie.’
That’s not gonna buff out easily, y’ know.
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167

The LaSalle – 12 January 1994
While driving through Elmwood Industrial Park one day, I spotted
this old LaSalle in the side alley of an auto repair shop. Could I have not
stopped to enquire about it … ? No.
After a brief introductory period, I told the owner of the facility
what had caught my attention and asked if I could view it up close and
take a few photos of it while I was there. He didn’t have a problem
with that, so I did and the rest, as they say, is history. Okay, okay –
not well-known history, but let’s not be overly picky, awright … ?
The LaSalle was an American luxury brand made and sold by the
GM Cadillac division from 1927 through 1940. The concept for the
LaSalle was developed by Alfred P. Sloan, and it was part of the plan to
fill pricing gaps he saw in the GM pricing portfolio.
Sloan created the LaSalle as a companion brand to Cadillac.
They were manufactured by Cadillac, but were lower-priced models.
Their marketing slot put them in the enviable position of being the
second-most-prestigious marque in GM’s lineup.
Following the lead of Cadillac, the LaSalle brand name came from
that of a French explorer, René-Robert Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle.
I would never have thought it had such a lineage – but it did. It also
had a great grille. What I saw was a ‘period’ vehicle that could be used as
a focal point for the cover of a fictional book that sounded all ‘dramatic’
and ‘suspenseful’ – like the one you see as you look to your right …
You won’t find that on any other Bayou ’cos we have an ‘Exclusive Use’
deal on it. Let’s keep on paddlin’ …
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169

Time Saver – 09 October 2005
Ecclesiastes reminds us that, “To every thing, there is a season” but
I don’t think that refers to Hurricane Season. This empty tilted gnomon
points awkwardly at the sky after having been quite rudely treated by
Hurricane Katrina.
The earliest it was possible to return from evacuation in Baton Rouge
was late September of ’05. This was the second trip back. After securing
the apartment as much as possible with no door locks, it was time to see
the other areas.
This non-functioning sign on 17th Street in the Fat City area of
Metairie once lit up a TimeSaver parking lot. Even tho’ its fluorescent
tubes were oddly intact, there was no power. Night was eerily reminiscent
of the ‘Dawn Of Man’ nighttime sequence in Stanley Kubrick’s ‘2001:
A Space Odyssey.’ Morning was always a welcome sight.
At a once-lively-but-now-empty nightclub, there were cases of MREs
and water passed out by the troops of Charlie Co., 1/108 Field Arty
out of Philadelphia, PA. If MREs weren’t your idea of a hearty meal,
they had cases of canned wienies in sauce – and they were magically
self-heating, too. (Pro tip: Always take the MREs.)
Katrina made my move out of New Orleans take place about three
years earlier than planned. The United Van Lines truck arrived early on
the morning of 14 November 2005 to load what was left of my ‘stuff ’ and
roll it up the highway to Memphis, TN.
That was then. This is now. It’s time to grab that paddle and push
off from the bank once again. Life’s Bayou is waitin’ – let’s get movin’ …
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171

Versailles Motel – 20 July 2002
Once one of the ‘In’ places to stay, and considered to be quite
the ‘hoity-toity’ establishment by travelers, the Versailles Motel on
Airline Highway transitioned from reality to memory in July of 2002.
The demolition proceeded at what might be described as a ‘relaxed’
pace, and crews never rushed to finalize the process. That may have
been a bit of temporary job security for them.
The Versailles’ architecture was a product of its time. Now, that
time was up. It had been passed by. Newer, better, and trendier places
with nicer amenities made the Versailles obsolete. The end, as they say,
had been nigh. Now ‘nigh’ had arrived.
The walkway over the swimming pool area is indicative of the
Versailles’ once-new architecture. A bit too much ‘Jetsons,’ not enough
‘Star Trek.’ There was, tho’, something incongruously appealing
about the presence of that little ‘Witch-On-A-Stick’ on the flagstone.
The walkway’s reflection in the water as an ‘All-Seeing Eye’
perfectly matched the overall feeling of surreality.
Before getting too deep in the psychological weeds, let’s back away
real slow and walk back to our pirogue where it’s safe. Don’t make any
sudden moves, keep your hands where I can see ’em, and we’ll be headin’
down Life’s Bayou again in a few seconds …
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173

KCS 4356 – 22 September 1992
What could possibly be cooler than a locomotive? The answer to
that is: Seeing a locomotive up close! Like this KCS engine bearing the
number ‘4356.’
The KCS maintenance facility on Cold Storage Road in Jefferson
Parish was a great place to view trains. They were usually parked in the
open. Even if they were moving, the track speed out of the repair shed
was minimal.
The day I spotted this engine waiting its turn to enter was a great
opportunity to see things most people might just wonder about. I didn’t
expect to see the two red coolers outside the door. They added a nice
touch of the ‘everyday’ to the engine. Ham sandwiches, root beers …
Even though this was the KCS yard, it wasn’t unusual to see a train
bearing a Union Pacific or Burlington & Northern logo on its side. All of
them were great, and there was always a shortage of either time or film.
Sometimes, it was both.
Over time, I came to know the yard’s Superintendent and shared
some of the better images with him. He was the person who gave me
the green light to be ‘on the yard.’ Without his permission, many of the
afternoons spent there would have been only to enjoy the sights.
It’s been nice visiting here again, but the time to move further down
Life’s Bayou is upon us …
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175

The Fix-It Bear – 22 November 1996
Remember ‘Mister Bill’ on ‘Saturday Night Live’? Remember his
nemesis, ‘Mister Hand’? If you put your ear real close to the page, you
can almost hear this cute little bear saying ‘Oh noooooooooo Mister Dart!’.
This dart board hung on a side wall of the Auto Tune garage on Airline
Highway. The bear was the ‘Extra Added Attraction.’
Every time I drove the Mighty PimpMobile to be brought back
from the brink of Automotive Death, Rick and Darren always came
through. Even when the PimpMobile reached the point of being
‘in extremis,’ they were able to reach in and pull out a few more days
of operable life. The bear saw it all as it happened. Hey! How’s that for
some ‘personification’? Woo-hoo! Do the ‘happy dance’ … !
Back to the subject: Driving past the shop one day, I brought
Rick a picture of this dart board and its Fix-It Bear. He looked at it
for a minute or so, and then said he didn’t remember it being there.
That’s easy to understand, tho’ – he and Darren were usually too busy
tending to the Mighty PimpMobile’s automotive needs.
Their shop is closed now, and I like to think the dart board and its
Fix-It Bear are in a comfortable villa with hot and cold running
transmission fluid. If the Great Spirit of the Mighty PimpMobile
is there too, life will indeed be good.
Okay – enough ‘Memory Lane’ stuff. The pirogue’s not gonna
paddle itself, you know. Let’s get started …
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177

The Magic Hat – 10 December 2000
What more needs to be said about this? Some people can handle
Mardi Gras. Some people can’t. I have no idea which category whoever
tossed this little hat onto the sign falls into. In case you’re curious:
No. I didn’t take it home with me.
Like Johnny Cash sang: ‘I hear that pirogue callin’, it’s callin’ ’round
the bend … ’ That means it’s time to pick up the push pole, doesn’t it?
Come on - we’re almost there.
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179

We Live To Serve – 09 June 1992
Why, yes! It IS a Vehicle Inspection Station! This one’s at a gas
station somewhere in Metairie. The tag at bottom right in the picture
is from a New Orleans brake tag station. If you’re wondering why the
difference, it’s because New Orleans didn’t allow the State to perform
inspections or issue State tags in its jurisdiction. That meant you went to
the Brake Tag Station on Jefferson Davis Parkway. If you wanted a tag,
it was always helpful if the ‘inspector’ saw a $5 bill on the dashboard
when he scraped off your old sticker. The State inspection stations
were a bit more straight-forward. Your car passed, or it didn’t. If it
passed, you were then issued a sticker good for a year. In New Orleans,
your ‘brake tag’ sticker was only good for six months.
Here’s a little brain teaser: Given the information above, which
tag is better to get? Would you rather get your tag in New Orleans,
or anyplace else? That was the question drivers in New Orleans asked.
Their answer was usually to get ID showing they lived anywhere except
New Orleans to get a reduced-rate, year-long State tag. Here’s another
variable: This was before any emissions inspection was added to the list of
tests cars had to pass. Imagine the joy …
What’s that you say? Our pirogue passed, and now we have a
brand-new State-issued Pirogue Tag good ’til next year? Well okay, then.
Let’s get back on Life’s Bayou and start paddlin’ since we’re legal now …
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181

Amtrak 4037 – 07 June 1995
There’s something about trains … a sense of history, of freedom
and adventure, a lingering attachment to their predecessors that helped
tame the Wild West when they were called the ‘Iron Horse.’ The smell
and feel, the look, and the sheer size of the locomotive and its caravan
of cars combined to convey a sense of immense power and potential.
This Amtrak train, Nr 4037, rested for the longest time on a spur in
a side lot on Pepsi Avenue in Elmwood Industrial Park in Metairie, LA.
It was massive when viewed up close. With its complement of boxcars
in train, it was an impressive sight, even in its state of disrepair.
There were more mornings and late afternoons than I can recall
when I drove to get images of the engine, its cars, the wheels, or just
the weathered surface textures of different materials of construction.
There was always the uneasy feeling that Amtrak had thrown away a
perfectly good train.
A good friend has just given me news this engine has been moved to
a site where it will hopefully be restored to its former status. The Society
doing the restoration is currently restoring the steam train I used to play
on in Audubon Park when it was across the street from Monkey Hill.
If Nr 4037 can be brought back to life and generate motive power
on its own, that will be the best of all possible worlds. Arlo Guthrie’s
musical question may be asked by this one, too: ‘Good morning, America,
how are you?’
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Face Full Of Pole – 25 July 2003
Some days you’re the flier; some days you’re the pole. Or,
to shamelessly mock an old ad for A Beer Which Shall Go Un-Named:
‘When you’re out of Witch, you’re out of here!’
And so, as the sun sinks slowly into the west and the witch slides
slowly down the pole, we come to the end of our First Exciting Adventure
down Life’s Bayou. We hope you’ve had as much fun on our journey
as we’ve had sharing these small ‘Life Vignettes’ with you.
Keep your eye to the skies for the arrival of a comet announcing our
Next Big Adventure - Volume II. Please wait for the pirogue to come
to a complete stop and leave your push pole in the ‘flat and locked’
position before returning to the shore. Your business is appreciated,
and we look forward to having you join us on our next trip. Thank you
in advance for recommending our product to your family and friends …
Merci, et bon chance, mon ami.
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About The Author
Richard A. Caire was born in New Orleans, LA in 1944, and has had many
and varied life experiences, some of which are shared in this book.
Richard worked briefly as a printer in the studio of Philip Sage, printing
many editions of Sage’s images as well as the Knute Heldner family-authorized
restrike edition of several drypoint copperplate etchings.
During his ‘Chemical Years,’ he represented six major divisions of the
Rochester Midland Corporation in the Louisiana, Mississippi, S. Alabama, and
Florida panhandle territories. He was the Chemical Sales Manager and Trainer
for Jim Walter Paper Company before joining the hazardous materials recycling
firm of Marine Shale Processors in St. Rose, LA as Special Projects Manager.
Richard joined Kinko’s as a typesetter and graphic designer in 1994. Kinko’s
was later purchased by FedEx and renamed FedEx Kinko’s before evolving to
become today’s FedEx Office. Moving to Memphis, TN after Hurricane Katrina,
Richard retired from FedEx Kinko’s in 2006.
186

The Mighty PimpMobile
At 230 inches long, the 1977 Lincoln Continental Mark V was the
largest two-door coupe ever sold by Ford Motor Company.
ENGINE: 460 CID 4V V-8
Bore & stroke: 4.36 x 3.85 in. • Comp. ratio: 8.0:1
Horsepower: 208 at 4000 RPM • Torque: 356 lb.-ft. at 2200 RPM
Carburetor: Motorcraft 4350
Wheelbase: 120.4” • Overall Length: 230.3” • Width: 79.7” Height: 53.0”
Curb Weight: 4,838 lbs. • Track: (Front/Rear) 63.1”/62.6” • Luggage Capacity: 18.1 cu.ft.
Fuel Capacity: 26.0 gallons
Headroom: (Front/Rear; in inches) 37.5/37.1 • Shoulder Room: 60.4/59.0
Hip Room: 55.4/54.3 • Leg Room: 42.3/34.0
Top Speed: 111 mph (theoretical)
Acceleration: 0- 60 mph - 12.7s
Author’s Note: The Mighty PimpMobile was donated to the Salvation Army, where it
was sent to the Steel Recycling Corporation of America to become new products.
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Memory lane is so long … yet so short.
There is no beginning.
There is no end.
There is only that moment
when we look back
or
look ahead.
– To Be Continued –
189