A Place Called Desire

"the community that care forgot"

  • Memories
    • Gordon Plaza When We Fight-We Win
    • A Different Kind of Summer
    • Stepping Into Easter
    • The Christmas Fruitcake
    • A Street Called Desire
    • Summer Fun: An Essay for A Place Called Desire
    • Friday Night Feast
    • Memories of Desire – The Record Truck
    • The Ladies’ Tammany Social & Aid Club
    • DESIRE PROUD – DESIRE STRONG
    • BEG, BORROW, BUT DON’T STEAL!
    • Food for Thought
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      • NPR Interview
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      • The 504
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By Winnie

A Different Kind of Summer

​​​     by Winnifred Walter Anderson-Magee

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Spending time in Bassano this summer couldn’t be any more different from my childhood in Desire, especially summers. Here, in Bassano, it is so tranquil that you feel as though you are in a dream from which you don’t want to awaken.  The sightings of people are so rare, unless you are in the center of the town where the locals go to the grocery market and to purchase the mineral water. Sounds of life are so fleeting. Maybe there is a voice in the distance, or music coming from one of the apartments.

​Growing up in Desire there were always sights and sounds. In the summertime, the children started to play very early. The truck vendors began to arrive in time enough for the mothers to purchase and to cook the produce.  The watermelon man came to deliver the delicious, juicy fruit early in order to chill it for afternoon consumption, usually on the bottom level of the steps.

Saturday mornings were usually reserved for shopping and cleaning. Most families had enough children to divide up the chores and to allow the little ones to go out to play.  Rather than have them underfoot, dirtying the already cleaned areas, or knocking over buckets of soapy water, or even worse, tracking the waxed floors, kids were allowed to start off the Saturday mornings early with some popular games. 

Rock Teacher, played on the steps of the porch, was a preferred safe game that could be played without the assistance of older siblings. Rock, Paper, Scissors is a popular game among children today. It was practically unheard of when we were children. Rock Teacher, the game of choice for younger children, allowed them to have hours of fun without having to spend any money, or leave the safe place of the porch.

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In the game, the teacher held the rock behind her back, moved it around and then presented both fisted-hands to the students, who then had to guess which hand the rock was in. If the guess was correct, the student was given permission to move down the steps. Moving down the steps would mean that you were being sent to a higher grade. Eventually, the person in the highest grade would become the teacher. Needless to say, there were some unhappy students who were left behind due to their inability to guess the correct hand.

There was always something to do in our neighborhood. The trucks delivering goods even provided a sense of play. First of all, there was the challenge to run to announce that the trucks were coming. Then, there was the excitement of choosing fruit from the trucks. In addition, we couldn’t wait to see what vegetable on the truck would become our dinner on Sunday afternoons. Many of the families were at the mercy of the truck vendors, because of the lack of transportation, too many children to take on public transportation, or too many to be left at home on their own.

But the best part of all, for me, was when the watermelon vendor passed by to sell this succulent gourd. It was always a big seller, unless ,when the merchant passed by when funds for families were scarce and thin. If that were the case, then my mom would yell back and say, “eat it yourself.”  Even when we could not afford one, it was always fun to hear the merchant sing his melodious advertisement, “watermelon, red to the rind.”

​Growing up in Desire afforded me many playmates, many of whom have become my lifelong friends, as well as surrogate brothers and sisters. Class reunions and even funerals are celebratory and reminiscing opportunities. The experiences we shared formed unbreakable bonds that are never to be broken. 

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Now, back to Bassano, Italy.  It appears to be a place with a small population, unlike the Desire community during my childhood. It also seems to be a place that has not changed much in a long time. It was great that there were for sale signs and signs of rebuilding. I feel like the older people who are there have lived there for most of their lives. It is highly likely that their bonds are just as strong as those nurtured in Desire. And, their brick and mortar homes are constantly being reinforced and not torn down. 

Filed Under: Articles

By Lagniappe Les

Gordon Plaza When We Fight-We Win

Finally, a monetary victory win for the people of Gordon Plaza. Justice prevailed but the journey was not easy. Homeownership in the Desire neighborhood did not go as planned, as citizens were sold homes endorsed by local politicians and the federal government in the late 1970s. Unfortunately, the subdivision was constructed on land that was a toxic former landfill (Agriculture Street Landfill). The neighborhood also contained a school that was relocated from the nearby Desire Housing Project, Moton Elementary and a senior citizen center. The young and old of this neighborhood were both put in harms way. From lead poisoning, respiratory illnesses, cancers and death, this community fell prey to toxic chemicals. DDT, a chemical (dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane) used to offer protection from the many harmful insects, only added to the unsafe environmental condition.

when we fight
Photo Credit: Tod A. Smith – October 2023

August 2005 only proved to be a further hindrance to the community, when Hurricane Katrina made landfall. The soil mitigation used to renew the environment was compromised when the floodwaters inundated the area. Esteemed environmental scientist Wilma Subra findings from retesting the soil forced the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) to reinvestigate the site. Thus reinforced the fight, and the residents of this tarnished community pushed further and harder. While other areas of the city were improving, this area had tougher battles to overcome including the federal government holding back Road Home (FEMA) funding.

Gordon Plaza

The Residents of Gordon Plaza, led by Shannon Rainey and others, went into battle and prevailed in the end. It was not an easy journey. Many did not make it. They succumbed to various illnesses that could have been caused by their environment. The residents were compensated for their homes enabling them to relocate. It does not erase the fact that lives were lost, families were hurt and a community destroyed. During the timeframe of 2001-2015, it is documented in the Louisiana Tumor Registry, that this area held the second-highest rates of cancer in the state of Louisiana. 

When They Fought. They Won.

Filed Under: Articles, Documentary, Gordon Plaza, Memories Tagged With: Desire Community, Gordon Plaza, Landfill

By Winnie

A Street Called Desire

And Other Street Names in My Neighborhood

As I matured and traveled about, I paid attention to the names of streets. I like to learn, observe, and absorb my surroundings. Part of that, for me, is learning the names of streets. Though convenient, using the GPS Global Positioning System makes the brain lazy. Consequently, I still study the names of streets. And in doing so, I have happily concluded that there are the same and similar names in many cities and other states. Courts, drives, driveways, parkways, and avenues within a neighborhood or metropolitan area have the same names. This is so fascinating to me. In the summer of 2022, while traveling in Paris with my middle son, Damion, and his family, I observed many names of streets, alleyways, neighborhoods, and subway stops. I wanted to learn as much as I could about this famous city. To my delight, but not surprisingly, there were many names with which I was pretty familiar. I’ve always known of the cultural and historical connection of Paris, France, and my home city, New Orleans. Seeing it with my own eyes was totally different.

A Street Called Desire and Other Names in My Neighborhood

I have always been in love with words and names. It became a pastime that was limitless and didn’t cost anything. This affection started many years ago, probably when I was learning to read. As my brothers, sisters, and I began walking to the grocery store, visiting our friends, and traveling outside the courtyard, it was a necessity. The layout and design of many of the courtyards were very similar, if not identical. To return home from a walk in the neighborhood or a bus ride outside our vast community, I had to learn to read and identify the street signs. Honestly, street sign reading became an obsession.

The street names in the new development located on what was once the Desire Housing Development are appropriately named after people who poured their lives into the advancement and quality of life of the residents of the Desire area. I will not try to call any because I do not know many of them. To walk through those streets, however, you will be given a history of the people who poured out their lives for the progress of Desire. The most notable name in the area is actually one that involved the renaming of Louisa St. The name is that of a very deserving son of Desire, Johnny Jackson, Jr. Many of us witnessed as well as benefitted from his many contributions to the Desire Community, the city of New Orleans, and the entire state of Louisiana. I am proud to have been privy to the many. Mr. Jackson’s contributions and advancements to Desire and the many others.

The names of the previous streets were street names from the surrounding area that were just extended to the development. Fortunately, the street names are more relatable and traceable for the residents of the current development. We grew up reading names like Piety, Pleasure, Benefit, Abundance, Alvar, Higgins, Industry, Pauline, and Desire. These names only sometimes coincide with the life conditions of the residents after opportunities afforded by racial integration are revealed. I was shocked to see my home in one of the textbooks in my freshman sociology class at Tulane University. It was quite eye-opening. But as a deep-thinking teenager, I had begun to think of them as misnomers. I tried to reconcile them with the situations many of us lived in. Some days became more difficult than others.

Desire community

My mother lived at 3411 Pleasure St., apartment B. And, as a child, I enjoyed the pleasures of Desire: pralines, frozen cups, constant camaraderie, and neighbors who loved me like family. Often, I would walk to the project office to pay our rent. This was a learning experience for me because I learned without being directly taught that my mother’s rent was based on her income. Everyone didn’t pay the same to live in a three-bedroom apartment. In the course of this transaction, I encountered the residents of Benefit St. I started connecting the dots, so to speak. The street was Benefit, so some benefits and advantages had to be. I began to realize the benefits of being raised in a community with large numbers of people in such close proximity. The people themselves possessed such gifts and talents. There were resources one might have needed to have had within reach had there not been so many human capabilities. Truly, we had the Benefit of a loving, nurturing neighborhood with countless examples of positive role models.

Abundance was one of the streets in our development. I liked it so much for many reasons. Because I lived in what was considered the back of Desire, the street, Abundance, always intrigued me. I only walked past it when the bus was delayed. It was about a mile walk from my house. During the walk, I encountered many activities and people with whom I would only interact occasionally. It was like traveling to another city. My aunt and cousins lived on Alvar St., near Abundance. That was another source of intrigue for me. Abundance St. was a section that appeared to accommodate large families with four-bedroom apartments. There was certainly an abundance of children in that area. It was filled with so much activity, endless energy, and loud sounds. Yes, Abundance, it certainly was!

The names of our streets represented a number of different things to us. After many years, it became apparent that there were some systemic issues in the area that the street names defied. But, honestly, they embodied the very essence of the heart of the community in which I lived. Years of neglect changed the narrative for some. But the meaning of the word, Desire, conjures up the thoughts, perspectives, ambitions, and visions of the residents of the entire Desire community. Their Desire to achieve led to actions that resonated around the world. I will never forget my life in Desire and the experiences that the streets of Pleasure, Benefit, Abundance, Piety, and Desire taught me.

Winnifred Magee

Filed Under: Articles, Desire Housing Project, Streets Tagged With: Desire Community Street Names, streets

By Lagniappe Les

Friday Night Feast

It’s Friday Night and I peeped inside of my refrigerator and thought how my Dad would create the best meals. Determined not to spend money, I decided to go old school and made something I haven’t had in years to satisfy my hunger. A bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich aka as the All-American BLT, complete with chips. As I sat and savored each bite, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to Friday’s meals of years gone by.

My Dad, affectionately known as Smitty to us, was the primary cook in our family and did a wonderful job at it. We were not eating an abundance of fast food on his watch. I guess by the time Friday came, he was tired and sought the quickest meals to fill our bellies. He looked to his version of fast food to get us through Friday nights. It differed from what most people are accustomed to now. It was simply a meal prepared quickly from items found in the refrigerator. It was a treat to venture to Gentilly for take out at an actual fast food restaurant.

Friday Night Feast

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Fridays meant either a homemade hamburger, you know the smashed meatball type, or his version of the now popular charcuterie board. Yep, my Dad was creating these back in the 70’s. Stopping in at Schwegmann’s in Gentilly before venturing home, he would shop for everything he needed. Lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, cheeses, Blue Plate Mayo (I hated mayo back then because I knew it contained eggs), yellow mustard, fresh bread, and a large loaf of Schwegmann’s fresh bread. To satisfy the meat portion of his platter, Oscar Mayer’s Variety Pak was the go to. Arriving at the table early, allowed you to get the best choice of meat. The least favored slices took on a sad appearance as they were left uneaten.  Smitty and his Friday Nite “Fast Food” Feasts never sent anyone to bed hungry.

Friday night Smitty treat

Filed Under: Memories, Articles Tagged With: Friday night feast, Home

By Lagniappe Les

Memories of Desire – The Record Truck

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Summertime in Desire. The memories are many of the three months we were out of school and enjoying each day. We were fortunate to live in a home that was always filled with different genres of music. From my Dad’s love of Jazz (one of his favorites was Count Basie) to my Mom’s obsession with keeping up with the “Jet” Magazine’s Soul Brothers Top 20 List or the songs she heard on WBOK, my siblings and I were all up on the music of the times. One way Mom acquired her collection of top 45s was from the record trucks that rode through the streets of Desire.

Dad had to punch the clock before the sun rose, so Mom rode the public transportation bus to work each morning. Because she was not a quiet dresser, we would be involved in her preparation to leave the house. Checking to make sure her outfit was on point, waking one of us or all of us to get a second opinion, grabbing an umbrella if it looked like rain or for the heat if the bus was off schedule, making sure she had a bus token in hand and “NOOOO, please don’t turn off the fan!” Before central air conditioners in homes, gigantic Reed fans were most popular in the 50s and 60’s across the south. It blew comfortable, cool air at night and circulated hot air during the day. We counted our blessings that we had one to get us through the hot months of New Orleans’ summers, even if it was primarily used to get us through the steamy nights. When you heard the fan motor winding down, you knew it was time to start the date, or if you chose to lay in bed a little longer, it was understood that there was a chance of drowning in your sweat. Before she made it to the front door to exit, we were told what was expected of us that day. From hanging clothes on the clothesline, making sure that we checked the mailbox, then calling her at work to relay what had been delivered that day, to dropping shoes off at the Holmes’ Shoe Repair across the tracks, we were kept busy. One recurring chore on that list was “if the record truck passes before I make it home, check to see if he has…there’s money in the can.”

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The waiting game began as the clock ticked, and finally, we could hear the sounds of Motown, Stax, Tamla, Atlanta, and Columbia, to name a few, in the distance. We would then make our way to the front porch to ensure we didn’t miss the purchase. Back in the day, Eddie 3 Way and Walt Boatner record trucks ruled the streets of Desire. Inching at a slow rate of speed (I can’t imagine today someone riding our pot-holed city streets in an open van sitting on a stool spinning 45s) with no skipped beats blaring from the speakers. 

Memories of Desire – 45s

“RECORD MAN!” “RECORD TRUCK!” “STOP!” Folks would line up, some with paper notes containing the 45s they wanted to purchase. Others were prepared to hum instrumentals. Then some would give a sampling of the vocals of a song they did not know the name of. Some that were unsure of themselves vocally would speak the lyrics. A sample was played, and the purchase was made. There was a sense of pride as you walked away with the coveted 45, and sometimes there was a bit of envy as that song could be heard from your home throughout the neighborhood. It was all fun because today was your day, and tomorrow would be someone else’s.  

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Later in the day, Mom would return from work, and when that 45 was handed over to her, we knew our evening would be filled with music. It was great when it was a 45 that was a 2-sided hit. Sides A & B would be alternated, as in the photo (Soul Brothers Top 20 List of January 29, 1970, courtesy of “JET Magazine”), “Going in Circles” by the Friends of Distinction was #1. The flip side was “Grazing in the Grass,” a hit that reminds me of my childhood summers and the record truck. 

Our home had an RCA High Fidelity Record Player with a record changer, so the new purchase was usually added to the stack of other recently purchased 45s with a few oldies but goodies added for good measure. Assignment completed. Mom was happy, and so were we. 

Leslie Smith Everage

#APLACECALLEDDESIRE

 

Filed Under: Articles, History, Stories Tagged With: record trucks in desire, summertime in desire, vendors in desire

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