Deep South Tour - Fall 2011 - Day 12

It surprised me how much we retraced our steps as we went from Lafayette towards New Orleans, much of the route was on highways built above water making for really great views and distinctly less great photos.
As we passed Baton Rouge we called ahead to Sheila our friend and guide for our visit to New Orleans; she agreed to meet us at our hotel, The Best Western French Quarter Landmark Hotel. As a contrast Joe Montgomery remembered that we were coming to visit with him when he received our text on the day we arrived, Sheila had been planning our visit and helping plan our tour since we had met in London two months previously, she had warned us to be well rested before New Orleans as she intended to fit as much as possible into her two days.
We arrived and checked into the hotel and as its title implies we were on the edge of the lively French quarter. Ominously the receptionist told us that the area behind the hotel was quite safe during the day but after dark we were to only use one of two streets to return to the hotel as they had bars on every corner and thus there would be people about. When we told her we had a local friend to look after us she looked quite relieved. The hotel was one of the nicer ones we experienced but we were to see very little of it.
On this day it was hot and there were people sunbathing and swimming in the enclosed courtyard, we had a seat in the same area and very shortly Sheila appeared. We showed her our room as she wanted to know if she could recommend the hotel in future, it passed that inspection. Sheila pointed out that the courtyard is a common feature of older New Orleans homes as it was where the slave quarters were located.
We set off on our tour. We rode in Sheila’s new car, a Hyundai, and from the start I was impressed by its gadgets, it had a rear facing camera to assist in reversing but the most amusing feature was on the rear view mirror there was a small readout of the direction the car was traveling. As I was in the back seat I could see this while Julia in the passenger position couldn’t – whenever Julia’s famous sense of direction was challenged she was outraged to find I knew better our position, on the second day I had to tell her my secret advantage.
The first part of our tour was through the French Quarter, driving down Bourbon Street while it still slept, Sheila promised that we would return and see it differently. We then covered the rest of the city taking in the best residential areas and all seven universities?
Sheila so clearly loves her city and her enthusiasm is catching. On this first day we saw little evidence of the damage wrought by hurricane Katrina but that was on the agenda for the following day. Sheila herself evacuated from New Orleans to Atlanta where she still owns an apartment which is rented out, she took her mother to Atlanta and sadly she passed away while there.
Having seen a lot of the city we headed out to do a plantation tour. We drove some miles out of the city to Plantation Parade on the Great River Road – there are four plantations on this tour and we started at the San Francisco Plantation.
To quote - Today the San Francisco Plantation remains a major attraction in Louisiana being visited annually by over 100,000 people. Although the house is antebellum in a chronological sense, it is certainly not typical of the period. Its style and coloration are totally distinctive, and its memories are now locked in time just prior to the War Between the States, when the house was at the height of its splendor.
As we arrived we noted that we had missed the last tour of the house at 4.30 and it would have cost $15 each, we walked in the grounds and I took some photos of the house which should have cost us $10 but nobody asked for that. I have a great picture of Sheila approaching the house to be met by a blonde Southern Belle in period costume; it could make a really challenging caption competition.
We next drove on to the Laura Plantation, here the same provisions applied but the staff were happy to turn a blind eye to me taking some photos in the garden. The Laura house was less ostentatious than the San Francisco being a more modern design and much less ornate.
We moved on to the Oak Alley Plantation, so named for its avenue of oak trees leading up to the front of the mansion. Here we were in limbo, between the gift shop closing and the plantation closing altogether, we wandered freely in the grounds and again I took some memorable photos.
All four plantations were sugar producers and this was evidenced by the huge metal bowls which featured everywhere as decorative items. In the grounds of Oak Alley there was a notice listing the slave inventory of the plantation and on looking up these plantations I found such inventories for every one. The listings include such items as:
Marie, Creole Mulatress, 35, cook, $900
Marseille, Creole Negro, 70, $25
Mary Sally, American Negress, 36, and her child Adam, 2, $900
Mathilde, Creole Negress, 10, $600
Mengo, American Negro, 30, one-eyed, $1,200
Michel, Creole Negro, 12, $600
Ned, American Negro, 35, $1,200
I am reminded that while watching the US Civil War documentary it was mentioned that slavery was the highest value industry in the country and it exceeded all the other industries put together but somehow reading this list the inhumanity of it strikes home. Also by consulting the San Francisco inventories for 1843 and 1856 only 13 years apart the value of an average slave has risen by over 100%; so as war approached the assets of the South were increasing in value and they could see no reasonable way to manage without their slaves.
We headed back into the city and stopped at Deanies Restaurant. We had Gumbo to start and split an order of fried sea food, a Half Seafood Platter, I enjoyed the soft shelled crab but it is hard to get your head round the idea that it is simply dropped into the deep-fryer and you eat the lot.
From the restaurant we headed back to the French Quarter, Sheila’s comment about Bourbon Street coming alive in the evening was so true, she cruised the area and a guy was just getting his car out of a small parking space, as he did so Julia asked if Sheila could fit in, she replied, “If he can get out I can get in!” and she did.
Our time on Bourbon Street was enjoyable and we felt safe in Sheila’s care, it always helps to be with a veteran. Before we entered our first bar I demonstrated my age, glancing at an attractive young lady I thought that brightly coloured T-shirt is very tight, only to realise that her bare chest was painted!
In the first bar we started to realise that Sheila knew nearly everyone, her friend was on drums and she had already been greeted by every doorman we passed. I was approached by a young lady carrying a rack of test tubes full of brightly coloured liquid, she inserted the base of a tube in her mouth and indicated that she wanted to transfer the liquid into my mouth, I could have refused but a steely glare from Sheila sent her on her way without a word.
We looked into several other bars and nobody suggested we should pay a cover charge even if others were. It was really just window shopping until we settled in to Irvin Mayfield's Jazz Playhouse in a luxurious venue on the lobby level of the Royal Sonesta Hotel New Orleans. The live band was lead by a black trumpeter who knew his stuff but was on an ego-trip to end ego-trips. He sat out several pieces but he was quite capable of elbowing the drummer off his seat and taking over. He was a good vocalist but the base player and the saxophonist seemed, to me, to carry the band. We had a couple rounds of drinks and enjoyed the atmosphere. An older guy who knew Sheila got up and did a couple of songs, it was his seventieth birthday, and he still had it. The ex-quarterback of the New Orleans Saints got up and sang, trying to research this guy my best guess is he was Billy Joe Tolliver but I am far from convinced.
Also in the audience was a guy called Steamboat Willie, he was clearly a well respected figure and several attempts were made to get him on stage but he was able to refuse gracefully. At the other end of the spectrum there was a girl of about twenty-three who gave an unasked solo on her harmonica while the band was resting offstage, she then made a play for the lead singer and eventually settled for the band’s manager.
Meanwhile the band was being plied with drink by the “Red Bull” man and they were showing some effects by the time we were thinking of leaving.
As the resident Scrooge, Killjoy, homebody, you get the picture, I was resolved not to try to end the evening while the ladies were enjoying it, imagine my surprise when Julia asked Sheila if we could go back to the hotel at about 12.30.
We offered to walk back but Sheila knew better than taking her eyes off us, Babes in the Wood, so she drove us back to the hotel, even then she was keen to check if we needed some supper on the way but sleep was all we craved!