Before the middle class thought it cool a century later, certain tony New Orleanians decided in 1896 they wanted their lives and homes to be governed by a HOA. So they built a fancy gate, locked out those unworthy, and forbade small homes and parking cars on the front yard and on the street. Carpenters, electricians, plumbers, caterers, and florists are exempted from the prohibition of street parking during certain hours. Great, great grandfather was offered a property here before houses filled them, which he declined due to those strict rules.

For a time, Audubon Place was, after Madison Avenue, the most sought after address in America. I have not been within its gates in two decades. The last time was for a classmate’s birthday party. It was raucous, involving unfettered alcohol consumption by adults and minors both inside and outside. Trying to escape the Gomorrah downstairs, I went upstairs to pray. There, I walked into a lude sexual tryst between two classmates, which forever poisoned my mind. I vomited and ran out the house before catching the streetcar home. Barring a miracle, I will never be invited there again. I have no desire to enter those gates, but I once dreamed that my Poorboy Tours of New Orleans bus burst through the gates and did some donuts on the neutral grounds before heading to Guy’s.

Many of the first residents had a hand in constructing St. Charles Avenue Presbyterian Church, which opened in 1930. It is no mistake that the signage then, like that church, is flush with quatrefoil stylings. The quatrefoil is the only good thing about Audubon Place. But it is so good, it pushes the sign to number three.

2. The Pontchartrain Hotel

The concept of The Pontchartrain Hotel was launched in 1889. At the time, planners looked at how large cities were building skyscrapers that were being used as primary residences for the wealthy. The idea flopped, but 30 years later, Theodore Grunewald, better known for The Roosevelt, unsuccessfully attempted to revive the idea. Lysle Aschaffenburg finally did and built this fine structure in 1927.

The family has quite a few stories from this hotel, which I shall share one day. A great aunt actually purchased a condo here around 1930, but eventually let it go, with the understanding from the ownership that one room from her condo would always be on retainer for the family.

When the Aschaffenburgs sold the hotel around the time of my birth, that understanding died. Although we still say we have a room on retainer out of tradition, we now have to book and pay for the room like anyone else. Still, Mother made it tradition to use the room on Bacchus Sunday. We would worship at Christ Cathedral before making our way to the hotel. It was a perfect respite and base for our Bacchus viewing.

The sign is often missed by people. Perhaps its subtlety is what makes it so appealing. Big metal letters are filled with golden yellow light bulbs, evoking a feel of Hollywood’s Golden Age. During my conductor days, I made sure to announce to all uptown bound riders, regardless of the time of day, “Look up and to the right. It is one of America’s finest hotel’s sign.”

1. Kolb’s

Unquestionably, with the Lamplighter, Crystal Hot Sauce, and Williams Blvd Baptist Church signs, the Kolb’s sign is one of the Top 10 signs in all of the New Orleans Metro. Opened in 1899, the restaurant was always proud of its beautiful leather belt fan system, which it incorrectly boasted was the only existing artifact from the 1884 Cotton Centennial.

If there were such a cuisine as Creole German, Kolb’s personified it. Mixing New Orleans seafood recipes with German staples, this was a favorite of many families, especially during the month of October. I always got the Kolb's Schnitzel, which was a thin fried piece of veal topped with lump crab. I also got the same dessert every time: Eva’s Kiss Cake. Two slices of German chocolate cake slathered in chocolate sauce hugged a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Delicious! Uncle always got the German Platter. I tried the sauerkraut once. Yuck!

I do not know exactly why Kolb’s could not make it. Every time we went in October, it was packed. And perhaps that is why -- the only time my family and people I know who talk about the restaurant went was October. The rest of the year it was left to a few tourists, most of whom found better food in the French Quarter. Not only that it was one of the more expensive restaurants in New Orleans. When it shut its doors in 1994, the Kolb’s Schnitzel was $15, which rivaled the cost of most white tablecloth restaurants.

It was in Kolb’s that I was introduced to the Chicken Dance song, officially known as the Birdie Song, which was written in Switzerland in the 1950s. How many endless hours of fun that song has brought me, perhaps you too, throughout the years. The moves I learned doing the Chicken Dance at Kolb’s inspired my middle school sock hop dance at the JCC, which ultimately brandished me with the nickname that shall not be written. Uncle was able to purchase a few restaurant items from the Kolb’s auction in 1994, one of which he gave to me.

Friends, remember every time you walk, drive or ride on St. Charles Avenue, you have shared that space with me and many others. Open your eyes to the wonders around you, wherever you are. The beauty of this world is unending. Thank you for reading.

Faith, Hope, and Love,
TulaneLSU

P.S. Its companion is TulaneLSU's Top 10 St. Charles Avenue signs, riverside

This post was edited on 4/14/20 at 6:47 pm