Spirits of the Bayou: Sanctuaries, Cemeteries and Hauntings

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

With every book, I learn more about publishing, more about myself, and more about my infinitely beautiful home state of Louisiana. My fourth book in four years, what a wild ride it has been. Tears of joy equaled by tears of frustration, that’s the life of an indie author and photographer. And although we work in solitude, we lean on a vast network of supporters and educators.

Where would I be without people like you, yes you reading this page. Lovers of the written world, die-hard romantics who still love the smell of a new book, an old book; and my favorite, the musty confines of an Indie bookstore, especially those inside a century old house. Icons like Maple Street Book Shop that has hosted many of my book signings. And don’t forget the libraries, especially the St. Tammany Parish library and particularly the Covington branch, such a thrill to find those hidden gems.

Without a doubt this book was the most difficult to write. The longest book I’ve written requiring extensive research and frequent trips out of town. Every chapter introduced me to a new venue and a remarkable group of people. Determined to explore the region’s diverse religious sector, this book embarks on a new journey introducing the history of Jewish congregations throughout Greater New Orleans.

With that said I want to thank my literary/research/support team: Anne Rice and her never-ending fight for creatives, Myra Beckman, my graphic designer and angel on earth, and Sarah Cradit, an amazing author with a huge heart. Monica Pierre and our power lunches, Sue Quiroz, Dawn Chenier and Mary Medeiros Albert, my cemetery pals. The late Mary Shelton Fitzpatrick who took a chance on a fledging writer and Trinity Episcopal Church musical wizards, Albinas and Manon Prizgintas. Senior Pastor Carol Winn Crawford of Rayne Memorial United Methodist Church and all the congregation’s generosity, it was a pleasure to learn the heartfelt history of Rayne.

Algiers Historical Society gurus Kevin Herridge and Donald Costello, both with a wealth of information and so courteous in their speaking invites. The Hubbell Library crew, Seale Paterson, Amy Hubbell and George Hubbell, community icons fighting to keep Hubbell alive. Dear friend, historian and St. Tammany Parish expert, Howard Nichols, couldn’t do it without you.

The wonderful and courageous people at the St Matthew’s Episcopal Church in Houma, Reverend Craig Dalferes and Beulah Rodrigue. Providing a wealth of information on Sacred Heart Church in Morgan City, big thanks to Julie Delaune. Thanks to the great folks at the Church of the Assumption in Franklin for opening the doors to a magnificent church.

My guiding lights in Jewish terms and history, Alan Smason, Arlene S. Wieder, Suzanne Stone, Rabbi Robert Loewy and Sandy Lassen. Big thanks to Alan Smason, editor of SOURCE, the award-winning New Orleans Jewish publication, who took me on a whirlwind tour of the city’s Jewish cemeteries. And Ginger Brook the creative director of Southern Jewish Life Magazine who inspired me in taking this Jewish journey.

Gerard Schoen and his infinite knowledge of Metairie Cemetery, one of Forbes Magazine top ten cemeteries of the world. Carrie DeVries, senior account executive with Deveney marketing firm, who cleverly found a way to bring together cemeteries and food writing with the Ruth Fertel tomb. Save Our Cemeteries for all your help, and all your preservation work. James F McKay, president of the FCBA, in vetting the Cypress Grove and Greenwood Chapter. Dr. Ryan Gray, anthropologist and archaeologist, the authority on Holt Cemetery, thank you for your time and passion.

Mandeville Cemetery historian cheerleaders, Joseph Yarbrough and Rod Scott, thanks for all you do. Pat on the back to Iris Lulu Vacante and the Madisonville Cemetery volunteers for never giving up. Yolanda Paz, VP of Visitor Service with the St. Tammany Tourism group and her help with the Slidell Greenwood cemetery chapter. Melvin Cousins, Honey Island Swamp captain who was more than generous with his time and efforts in touring me around the Honey Island Swamp.

Lauren Bordelon and Judy Soniat for all their support and wonderful work at the Terrebonne Library in Houma. Without their invite, I would have never found Southdown Cemetery. Jonathan Foret, Executive Director of the South Louisiana Wetlands Discovery Center, who inspired me to write about coastal erosion and the stories of Rougarou, the Cajun werewolf. Anita Granier, Cemetery Director of Holy Rosary in Houma who was a lifesaver in helping with the history of the church and cemetery. Jean McCorkle with the Cajun Coast Visitor & Convention Bureau, who is a fellow cemetery lover and provided a great article on Ada Bonner LeBoeuf, the first woman hanged in Louisiana. Local historian, Paul Fitch who helped solved the mystery with the Little Ollie story in the Franklin Cemetery.

All the great ladies with the Jean Lafitte National Park and Preserve especially Lisa Ruttley who helped me find spooky cemeteries and bayous. Juliet Carrigee championing the cause in building a butterfly garden at Our Lady of Wisdom in Algiers. Linda Stempel Wegmann who works her magic in keeping year-round blooms in the butterfly garden.

Billy Fountain and his hard work in sketching the book’s superheroes: Rougarou, Jean Lafitte’s ghost and the Honey Island Swamp Monster. Melanie Leach Naquin, a fellow Mardi Gras fanatic who gifted me with the sugar skull stiletto. Read both of their contributions in the Lagniappe section.

Last but not least, my family who at times bears the brunt of my frustrations in the starts and stops of writing a book. My husband Michael who hears most of it, especially the cursing from the upstairs office, thanks for keeping me sane. Well relatively speaking. My daughter Julie, who gave me a place to crash overnight for those marathon interviews and photo shoots in New Orleans. Jared and Catherine who keep me young and provide multiple sources for the book. Can’t forget my darling Pepper pup, she follows my every move when she’s not snoozing on the office futon. I love you all so dearly, and promise life will get back to normal. Well until the next book.

My sister Michelle and her husband Ed, who are always there for me, helping out with my mom in my busy schedule, and Ed providing a loading dock for my books. And Twana, the middle sister who loves books and always offering words of encouragement, thanks sis.

Whatever your passion—sanctuaries, cemeteries or the mystical world that feeds our imagination—this book is dedicated to you. To all those that crave adventure, the magic behind a locked door, the thrill of endless graveyards and the haunting cries inside a bayou jungle, buckle up and enjoy the ride.

INTRODUCTION

In reading this book, I hope you feel the spirits, those that live inside these century-old sanctuaries, cemeteries and bayou hamlets. Spirits of the Bayou seemed a fitting title as many of us return to these tributaries of life. From baptisms to burials we gather at the water’s edge in churches and cemeteries. And the shrouded bayous are home to an immortal theater, an ethereal world filled with hauntings real and imagined.

In the first eight chapters discover the thrill of that first moment entering a castle of faith, the immense artistry then the blissful silence, that’s when you feel it—the soulful spirits that fill the churches and synagogues.

Most nineteenth century communities grew around these houses of worship; it was the center of their world, the circle of life—their birth, baptism, marriage and funeral. Families came together with hammer in hand and built these heavenly havens. Much like today, they gained strength in battling nature’s wrath with floods and hurricanes; they never gave up, rebuilding the town’s beating heart time and again.

Just as historic temples guide us on a spiritual journey, so do our cemeteries. From the New Orleans’ cities of the dead to the bayou’s veiled graveyards, they whisper tales of woe and celebration. My work begins where many lives end, or so that’s what most people think. Cemeteries are more than a resting place for the dearly departed, more than elaborate architecture, rusted fences and crooked stones. Vivid photography and poetic prose showcase the cultural diversity with unique customs from Europe, Africa and the Caribbean.

If you are a seeker of knowledge and believe the future is built upon the past, then you will feel their presence. You read the headstones, from young and old, many struck with yellow fever, or the brave soldiers that fought our wars. They loved, they laughed and they cried. They are teachers from another world, another time, and I share their stories.

Join me as we embark on a trail of history and legendary beauty. We’ll begin with the storied monuments and cemeteries in New Orleans, then head north across Lake Pontchartrain to the hidden gems of St. Tammany Parish. Then dip down to the coastal parishes along the Gulf of Mexico, traveling the back roads and bayous of Houma, Raceland, Franklin and Morgan City.

The last chapters delve deep inside the wicked beauty of Louisiana’s swamps and bayous, its battered coast and inland waters fighting to stay alive. They call it coastal erosion and it engulfs land like a venomous monster eating away livelihoods and an entire culture of people. We’ll visit those who join the battle in saving their fragile bayou country, champions in all shapes and sizes. From city folk to local legends, a loving cantankerous lot fiercely loyal to these ancient jungles.

Meet Jean Lafitte, a nineteenth century pirate turned patriot who many say still roams the Gulf of Mexico’s open waters. And Rougarou, the Cajun werewolf and superhero determined to protect his people and property. Further east we’ll catch a boat in search of the illusive swamp monster in the Honey Island Swamp.

Closing the book, it’s only fitting to end with nature’s mystique; the spiritual awakening of trees, butterflies and dragonflies, their symbiotic relationship with the afterlife. Are they messengers from beyond the grave, angels of another dimension? Many believe this to be true and have witnessed this metaphysical force.

This is why I write, why I click the shutter—I am here to bring them back, the spirits of the bayou. Dedicated to those who took a chance more than a century ago, those with a vision for the future and those who refuse to die. It’s time their story be told. It’s time to welcome them to a new world.

sanctuaries

chapter

1

Trinity Episcopal Church

ABOVE: A commanding view looking out across the pews and balcony of Trinity Episcopal Church on Jackson Avenue in New Orleans.

Although I longed to peek inside Trinity Episcopal Church and witness the architecture, I never imagined I would be sitting in a packed church on January 4, 2014.

People were bundled in coats and scarves waiting to get inside the church. Some took their place in the pews while others stood in line to pay their respects, offering words of comfort to the family. On this cold January morning, it was time to bid a final farewell to Mary Shelton Fitzpatrick.

She was my mentor and took a chance on me, a 48 year-old student entering her last semester at Tulane. She published my very first article, a passionate article in the December 2002 issue of Preservation in Print. And it was Mary Shelton Fitzpatrick that fueled my passion to embark on a new career and fully embrace my love for historic architecture.

I sat alone in the pew, holding back the tears, and imagined Mary sitting next to me, both of us studying the architecture. Pointing to her favorite stained glass window and the chrome pipes rising from the organ, sharing her fondness for the music and her favorite concerts. I imagined that maybe one day I could bring this story to life, and share it with the world.

But I was angry because I didn’t go to her last book signing; angry because I didn’t reach out in another email and angry because she was gone. So I did what I always do, I got lost in the beauty of the church searching for answers.

Staring at the morning sun streaming through the windows, I felt her; felt her love. Tears began streaming down my face and I spoke to her, How I miss you, Mary. So many things I want to tell you, how much you helped me, helped grow my craft. But I need you now. I need your help.

Struggling with the decision of publishing my own book and fearful of the unknown, I felt a calm come over me—and the answer became clear. It hit me—Mary had published her own books. She’d broken the barrier, and now she was motivating me to do the same.

And so I did, that very same year. In October 2014, I became an Indie author and published my first book. It was not easy, but Mary was cheering me on the entire way.

Here I am, two years later, January 2016, inside Trinity Episcopal church. Its infinite beauty so much clearer now, not clouded by grief, now it was time to honor Mary’s memory and bring Trinity’s story to life.

‡  THE BEAUTY  ‡

A glorious Gothic Revival design initially built in 1852-53 by architect-builder George Purves. Trinity received several restorations through the years. Smartly done, every detail flows perfectly across the exterior. Faithful followers enter through the arched opening of the peaked portico. Carved on the rim of the arch are delicate floral designs each with four petals, much like the Dogwood flower.

Religious iconography plays a crucial roll in church architecture. Based on Christian traditions, the dogwood bloom bears witness to the scars of Jesus’ crucifixion. According to the website, Creation Tips, two long and two short petals represent the cross while the torn edge of each petal are said to be the nail indentions.

Atop the solid wooden doors is a mosaic of stained glass windows including a rose window in the top center. Across the façade just behind the gabled portico is a row of lancet designs with narrow pointed arches. Perched above that is a triple set of lancet stained glass windows, and rising to the apex of the gabled roof is a trefoil stained glass window. It is the Trinity symbol, the church’s namesake and repeated throughout this house of God.

The tri-color tiled roof blends perfectly with the pastel finish of the exterior. Atop the steeple is a petal cross and a trefoil trinity in the center, a perfect finish to this divine piece of architecture.

Inside is a perfect balance of contrasting light and color. A delicate neutral bathes the walls giving way to the vivid double-story stained glass windows featuring biblical legends. The pews glimmer with the early morning glow seeping through the windows. In line with all Christian architecture, the apse, the semi-circular vaulted dome stands at the head of the cruciform structure. It is a mastery of many elements including music, color and divine woodworking.

Three arched gateways supported by triple columns and capitals line the apse. To the left is the organ and its gleaming chrome pipes reaching high into the alcove. In the center is the Sanctuary, home to the altar flanked by wooden kneelers, and behind the altar a gallery of three-dimensional angels carved in wood. Kneeling with wings arched above their head, perhaps the most impeccable detail belongs to the robes. More than the depth and fluidity of the robe, the grain itself fits perfectly into the weave of the material.

ABOVE: Inside is a perfect balance of contrasting light and color along with a mastery of music and divine woodworking.

Another immaculate piece of artistry is the altar. The face is a three-dimensional woodcarving of the Last Supper. Inside an onion-dome façade the scene brings to life the drama among the disciples as Christ proclaims one of them will betray him. In a finely engraved rendition of Leonardo Da Vinci’s Last Supper the carving bears witness to the emotional intensity etched in the frowned and queried faces amid the expressive body language of rage and despair.

In addition to the rich woods, the apse rose color backdrop with four-petal stencils adds a powerful focal point. But the real star is the arched stained glass window in the center of the back wall. It presents a colorful storyboard of the holy weekend, the bottom pane the last supper, the center pane the crucifixion and the top pane the resurrection.

Facing the narthex is a commanding view looking out across the pews and balcony. Although the sanctuary and altar is home to the church’s most sacred pieces, the nave is the heart and soul of the holy temple. The army of pews is testament of the past, present and future, generations of those who have built the church and those who work hard in keeping it alive. More than art and architecture, together they are one, a place to worship, to learn, to love and to celebrate.

ABOVE: The stained glass window behind the altar presents a colorful storyboard of the holy weekend, the bottom pane the last supper, the center pane the crucifixion and the top pane the resurrection.

‡  CHURCH HISTORY  ‡

The church began with an Episcopal missionary and six residents in what was then called the community of Lafayette, a suburb of New Orleans. It was March 1847, and they met in a building near Washington and Laurel, several blocks away from the current location on Jackson Avenue.

Four years later Lafayette was annexed into New Orleans and Trinity was then part of the Diocese of Louisiana. Trinity moved twice according to the church’s website and worshipped for the first time in the basement of the unfinished building at Jackson and Coliseum Street on April 3, 1853.

As the city battled with the devastation of the yellow fever epidemic, Trinity lost their first Rector, Alexander Dobb, along with his wife, both from yellow fever only four months after the first service.

Leonidas Polk, the Bishop of Louisiana, became rector in 1855 and served for five years seeing much growth in the Episcopalian community of churches. And then tragedy struck when Polk, acting as a general in the Civil War, was killed in combat.

The latter part of the 19th century brought great strides not only in the church, but in their educational system as well. By March 1866, the church was free of debt and consecrated. Its congregation had grown to 532 members and they required a bigger building. Trinity installed an organ, the first stained glass