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.

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.

By Lagniappe Les

Stepping Into Easter

Easter Shoes

Easter has always been one of my favorite holidays. The flowers are blooming, the grass is greener, and the weather in New Orleans is about the best that it can be. Not too hot, not too cold. As a child, Easter always meant a new pair of shoes to compliment the new Easter dress crafted by my Mom, or on occasion, purchased from one of the local department stores on Canal Street. My Mom loved a good pair of shoes, which has passed down to me, my siblings and our kids. She had the best taste and knew not only quality fabric, but also the best shoes that would last and be passed down to each other or other members of our extended family, there were many, after we outgrew. No shoes ever crossed the threshold for street wear without first getting a set of taps. Getting those taps usually meant a walk “across the tracks” at Holmes’ Shoe Shop on Florida Avenue. I think myself and my siblings were happy when plastic taps, although not as durable as metal, were made. It made our footsteps and our lives a little quieter. I even had them on my school shoes and always tried to walk quietly to not attract attention to myself.

Louisa Transferred to Desire

Public Service busses, Louisa transferred to Desire, was our mode of transportation. If the Louisa bus was taking too long, be prepared to walk ”out front.” The sales of Canal Street waited for no one, and you best believe, my Mom Etta, knew where to find them. The early bird is known to get the worm, so we were usually at our destination, Imperial Shoe Store at the corner of Bourbon and Canal Streets, quite early. So early that the store employees would be hosing the sidewalks down preparing for the barrage of Saturday shoppers. Yes, young folks reading this and I’m honored that you are, vendors actually cleaned the sidewalks.

My Mom Always Had a Shopping List

There were many mothers that had the same plan as we did, because the line to get inside the store was usually long. Numbers were given out and people stood in line never complaining, just patiently waiting their turn to take the elevator up to the children’s shoe. If blessed, the size and shoe that my Mom chose was available. If not and it was a little larger, it was purchased anyway, and Kleenex was used until it fit like it should. I’m thankful that if the size was too small, it remained in the store. Grabbing a pair of nylon socks off the rack (I hated those because they always slid down in your shoes), the bill was paid and we were back in the hustling crowd of Canal Street. My Mom always had a shopping list each and every Saturday and was on a mission to get everything she needed on that trip. A bag of popcorn was usually purchased from the small Woolworth’s next to Imperial to keep us happy and fed until we made it down to McCrory’s for a hamburger and a drink.

Back on the Desire Bus

Back on the Desire bus, we headed home with bags and memories that I didn’t realize at the time I would keep with me for a lifetime. When the shoe was on the other foot, and I became a mom, Et often insisted on purchasing the boy’s Easter shoes. Of course, I wasn’t turning down that opportunity. Looking back, I guess it brought back happy memories to her; even though Canal Street was no longer the mega shopping destination it had been, Barry’s would be our destination for many years.

Many Easter Shoes

This is my first Easter as ”GEM,” and am looking forward to becoming the purchaser of many Easter shoes in Landon’s future while making a few memories along the way. Although this will not be the year, but I’m eyeing a pair of powder blue saddle oxfords that will definitely be on my listMemories last a lifetime. Happy Easter Shopping to All

By Lagniappe Les

The Christmas Fruitcake

The Christmas Fruitcake made its appearance at my childhood home every year. It was my Dad’s tradition, and he kept it going well into his senior years. Now that I think back, I can’t remember when the production stopped. All I remember is that it traveled from uptown New Orleans to downtown Desire .

Smitty in the Kitchen

I do know one thing for sure, and I hated them. I can remember making Schwegmann’s runs with him to get his ingredients. It was all done from scratch, from flour and brown sugar to plastic containers that held the jellied and dried fruit and unshelled nuts. While I watched the steps he took (note nothing was written down), it encompassed hours. It was just a given that on this day, if you wanted to eat at the only table in the house, you should make plans before production started. The ingredients covered the whole table. There was a metal grinder (I wish I had held on to that) that he hooked to the edge of the table and would meticulously combine his ingredients. It all ended up in the roasting pan and mixed together, poured into disposable metal loaf pans, and baked. The aroma stayed around longer than the fruitcakes. They were handed out to welcome hands. It’s amazing how relatives from both sides of the family would show up, all leaving out with a loaf. I remember a few being shipped to California one year to one of his uptown New Orleans friends who had relocated. No dollars ever changed hands: just fruitcakes and warm holiday best wishes.

We take so much for granted in life, assuming it will be present forever. At this moment, on this day, during this Christmas season, I would give anything for a slice of fruitcake. Not just any fruitcake. It has to be Smitty’s.

Happy Holidays

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

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.

By Lagniappe Les

Memories of Desire – The Record Truck

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.”

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.

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

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