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Message
TulaneLSU's Top 10 structures of Irish Bayou
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:22 pm
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:22 pm
Dear Friends,
Before 1876, very few people had ever stepped on the land that would become Irish Bayou. It was that year that construction of the Pointe aux Herbes lighthouse had begun, a lighthouse that would survive until the 1950s when vandals destroyed it. In 1882, the New Orleans and Northeastern Railroad was built in the same area. Stretching 200 miles from New Orleans to Meridian, MS, the railroad opened that little protruding spit of land that separates the body of Lake Pontchartrain from its eastern diverticula, just before it becomes the Rigolets. Not much has ever been written on Irish Bayou. It is one of the ephemeral places where there is a blurry line between land and water, a place on the edge of the world, where few things last long. Vestiges of the past in Irish Bayou are annually swept away in tidal floods and buried beneath layers of dark black silt never to be seen or remembered again. But, for some, memory does remain.
Grandfather has told me over the years four bedtime stories, vignettes really, about this area we call Irish Bayou. The last three are family stories. The first, though, comes secondhand from his childhood neighbor. This neighbor was an old man in his 70s when Grandfather would sit on the neighbor’s Prytania porch and listen to his stories. Grandfather said the neighbor had a penchant for really elaborate and wonderful tales, exaggerated perhaps, but at least with a kernel of truth in them.
Grandfather’s Stories about Irish Bayou
1. Grandfather’s old neighbor and the pirates
One of his most memorable tales came from 1892. He was a young Naval officer, fresh out of the Academy. His first assignment was capturing a band of Mexican pirates who commandeered The Cheta. The Cheta was a famous local Naphtha launch that was sailing for Biloxi and whose precious cargo contained confidential letters that may have confirmed a U.S. Senator’s role in the Garza Revolution in Mexico. The neighbor emphasized that the papers were of utmost importance to national security. Failure to retrieve them, he said, could have led to an American-Mexican war.
Grandfather’s neighbor had ordered a blockade around Pointe aux Herbes. Seven small schooners encircled the point and after two days, there was no sign of The Cheta. The young officer chose to take a smaller ship into the bayous and search for the pirates. A few hours later, the pirates were spotted camped out in a small trenasse off the Irish Bayou Lagoon. They looked to be living off the land, subsiding on what appeared through the telescope to be catches of perch.
Rather than attack in the afternoon, the Navy officer decided to use the element of surprise and wait until the next day. So he had his men camp about a quarter mile away. The attack would come at sunrise. The men set up camp with tents near the eastern most strip of land along Pontchartrain.
Sunset came and the sailors quietly rowed the boat gently toward the pirates’ encampment. The neighbor told Grandfather they were close enough to smell the pirates at this point when one of the pirates woke. The Americans yelled for the pirates to drop their weapons, but it did not seem that they understood English. No one knows who fired the first shot, but when the smoke cleared, five of the pirates had breathed their last.
“We left them there and we watched the alligators get their scent. They took care of the bodies and we recovered what we needed. Crisis averted.”
Grandfather said he first heard this story in 1944, during the War, and always wondered about the story’s veracity. Could this have really happened? The neighbor was becoming forgetful by that time, and perhaps story and reality were blurring in ways that those of us in this world do not fully understand.
2. Great, Great, Great Grandfather defends the coast against Mississippi marauders
The second great story about Irish Bayou Grandfather told me was another second hand story, but from a more reliable source: his grandfather, or my great, great grandfather. Back in the early 1900s, 1905 I think, his father had brought Great, Great Grandfather fishing and crabbing at the old Tally Ho, where the family lore has it that one of our forefathers was one of the club’s original founders, all the way back in 1815, shortly after the Battle of New Orleans.
They were heading north out of Chef Pass and were on their way along the shorelines. It is only about three miles across a relatively protected part of the Lake from the Chef to Irish Bayou.They were trolling for speckled trout with spoons, a technique our family is credited for popularizing throughout southeast Louisiana but most especially near the Rigolets. When they purchased their first Waterman outboard a few years later, they perfected the technique. Great Grandfather always said, “For green trout,” as he always called bass, “troll at one knot. For trout, troll at three knots.” It had been a successful journey north, and they had filled their boat with well over two hundred schoolies.
A plume of steam rose in the distance and a flotilla of little dots grew in size as it approached. The boats were cheaply-made shack-boats filled with men who had not taken showers in weeks and had fewer teeth together than the trout in G-G-G Grandfather’s boat. They identified themselves as “The People’s Republic of Mississippi Militia Blockaders.” They demanded that Great, Great, Great Grandfather and his son make their way back to Chef Pass.
Great, Great, Great Grandfather, an important man in those days who did not take orders from many, scoffed at them. He told them that if they did not take their dinky boats back to Mississippi, “I will sink them myself.” I pray he was not a violent man, but he clearly put fear in their hearts, as the story goes that the father and son continued fishing the rest of the day.
A week later, the Mississippi-Louisiana War of 1905 fully broke out, resulting in zero deaths. The problem was yellow fever was endemic in New Orleans that summer and the Mississippi governor did not want any Louisiana citizens entering his state. And so, he sent armed ships into Louisiana waters to block the Louisiana ships from approaching Mississippi. Although this was an infringement on the Constitution, Mississippi’s harassment of Louisiana anglers and oystermen continued until Teddy Roosevelt ordered it stopped at once.
Before 1876, very few people had ever stepped on the land that would become Irish Bayou. It was that year that construction of the Pointe aux Herbes lighthouse had begun, a lighthouse that would survive until the 1950s when vandals destroyed it. In 1882, the New Orleans and Northeastern Railroad was built in the same area. Stretching 200 miles from New Orleans to Meridian, MS, the railroad opened that little protruding spit of land that separates the body of Lake Pontchartrain from its eastern diverticula, just before it becomes the Rigolets. Not much has ever been written on Irish Bayou. It is one of the ephemeral places where there is a blurry line between land and water, a place on the edge of the world, where few things last long. Vestiges of the past in Irish Bayou are annually swept away in tidal floods and buried beneath layers of dark black silt never to be seen or remembered again. But, for some, memory does remain.
Grandfather has told me over the years four bedtime stories, vignettes really, about this area we call Irish Bayou. The last three are family stories. The first, though, comes secondhand from his childhood neighbor. This neighbor was an old man in his 70s when Grandfather would sit on the neighbor’s Prytania porch and listen to his stories. Grandfather said the neighbor had a penchant for really elaborate and wonderful tales, exaggerated perhaps, but at least with a kernel of truth in them.
Grandfather’s Stories about Irish Bayou
1. Grandfather’s old neighbor and the pirates
One of his most memorable tales came from 1892. He was a young Naval officer, fresh out of the Academy. His first assignment was capturing a band of Mexican pirates who commandeered The Cheta. The Cheta was a famous local Naphtha launch that was sailing for Biloxi and whose precious cargo contained confidential letters that may have confirmed a U.S. Senator’s role in the Garza Revolution in Mexico. The neighbor emphasized that the papers were of utmost importance to national security. Failure to retrieve them, he said, could have led to an American-Mexican war.
Grandfather’s neighbor had ordered a blockade around Pointe aux Herbes. Seven small schooners encircled the point and after two days, there was no sign of The Cheta. The young officer chose to take a smaller ship into the bayous and search for the pirates. A few hours later, the pirates were spotted camped out in a small trenasse off the Irish Bayou Lagoon. They looked to be living off the land, subsiding on what appeared through the telescope to be catches of perch.
Rather than attack in the afternoon, the Navy officer decided to use the element of surprise and wait until the next day. So he had his men camp about a quarter mile away. The attack would come at sunrise. The men set up camp with tents near the eastern most strip of land along Pontchartrain.
Sunset came and the sailors quietly rowed the boat gently toward the pirates’ encampment. The neighbor told Grandfather they were close enough to smell the pirates at this point when one of the pirates woke. The Americans yelled for the pirates to drop their weapons, but it did not seem that they understood English. No one knows who fired the first shot, but when the smoke cleared, five of the pirates had breathed their last.
“We left them there and we watched the alligators get their scent. They took care of the bodies and we recovered what we needed. Crisis averted.”
Grandfather said he first heard this story in 1944, during the War, and always wondered about the story’s veracity. Could this have really happened? The neighbor was becoming forgetful by that time, and perhaps story and reality were blurring in ways that those of us in this world do not fully understand.
2. Great, Great, Great Grandfather defends the coast against Mississippi marauders
The second great story about Irish Bayou Grandfather told me was another second hand story, but from a more reliable source: his grandfather, or my great, great grandfather. Back in the early 1900s, 1905 I think, his father had brought Great, Great Grandfather fishing and crabbing at the old Tally Ho, where the family lore has it that one of our forefathers was one of the club’s original founders, all the way back in 1815, shortly after the Battle of New Orleans.
They were heading north out of Chef Pass and were on their way along the shorelines. It is only about three miles across a relatively protected part of the Lake from the Chef to Irish Bayou.They were trolling for speckled trout with spoons, a technique our family is credited for popularizing throughout southeast Louisiana but most especially near the Rigolets. When they purchased their first Waterman outboard a few years later, they perfected the technique. Great Grandfather always said, “For green trout,” as he always called bass, “troll at one knot. For trout, troll at three knots.” It had been a successful journey north, and they had filled their boat with well over two hundred schoolies.
A plume of steam rose in the distance and a flotilla of little dots grew in size as it approached. The boats were cheaply-made shack-boats filled with men who had not taken showers in weeks and had fewer teeth together than the trout in G-G-G Grandfather’s boat. They identified themselves as “The People’s Republic of Mississippi Militia Blockaders.” They demanded that Great, Great, Great Grandfather and his son make their way back to Chef Pass.
Great, Great, Great Grandfather, an important man in those days who did not take orders from many, scoffed at them. He told them that if they did not take their dinky boats back to Mississippi, “I will sink them myself.” I pray he was not a violent man, but he clearly put fear in their hearts, as the story goes that the father and son continued fishing the rest of the day.
A week later, the Mississippi-Louisiana War of 1905 fully broke out, resulting in zero deaths. The problem was yellow fever was endemic in New Orleans that summer and the Mississippi governor did not want any Louisiana citizens entering his state. And so, he sent armed ships into Louisiana waters to block the Louisiana ships from approaching Mississippi. Although this was an infringement on the Constitution, Mississippi’s harassment of Louisiana anglers and oystermen continued until Teddy Roosevelt ordered it stopped at once.
This post was edited on 7/20/23 at 6:59 am
9
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:22 pm to TulaneLSU
3. Great Uncle, the Eliot Ness of New Orleans
Great Grandfather’s brother was a fine and upstanding man who, like many in the family, was a Princeton graduate. I believe he was a student at that school during Woodrow Wilson’s service as president to the university in the first decade of that century. While at Princeton, he converted to Presbyterianism and joined the glorious Temperance movement. He founded the first Anti-Saloon League on campus and was a vocal leader who converted many to the just cause. After law school at Tulane, he worked in one of the great New Orleans law firms of the day. Socially, he was a member of the Boston Club, but shied from most of their activities because almost always they involved alcohol.
When the Volstead Act passed, he decided to quit his law practice and join the Bureau of Prohibition, which was part of the Department of Treasury. While his superiors wanted him in the courtroom putting the alcohol pushers in prison where they belonged, Great Uncle wanted to get his hands dirty and work in the field. After several months of petitioning, he was finally tasked with leading the South Louisiana Prohibition Force.
The marsh and bayous of 1920s southeastern Louisiana were overflowing with rum runners, many who were supplied by organized crime in Cuba. The local runners were employed by Silver Dollar Sam Carolla, who was acting Boss in New Orleans, although there were always whispers that Charles Matranga was the man pulling the strings up until his death in 1943. This was to be the second of several clashes between our family and the Mafia. (The intimations on the OT that Uncle is somehow a made man or friendly with any such people is ludicrous). Running rum through the marshes of eastern Orleans and St. Bernard Parishes was like putting a fire hose through a broken sieve before Great Uncle took charge.
Great Uncle was determined to keep every drop of this lethal drug out of the holy city of New Orleans. And it was no easy task. He got rid of several corrupt agents and dealt with mines in the water and vandalism to his boats, like his favorite boat,Prohibition Launch B-101. The day after he turned down a suitcase filled with cash and a box of his favorite chocolates delivered by two Italian men in striped double-breasted suits, capped with fedoras, his house was firebombed. Great Uncle never married, and we speculated that it was because he spent his fruitful years living in the marshes, stamping out this plague, and later was harassed by the same terrorists he nearly brought to ruin.
How many hundreds of thousands of gallons of liquor Great Uncle dumped into the waters of Lakes Pontchartrain and Borgne no one will ever know. He was responsible for more alcohol arrests than any other on the Gulf. His knowledge of the waterways around Irish Bayou and along Bayou Sauvage was unparalleled, except for, perhaps that of Mrs. Melisse Darda. Mrs. Darda was a Native Indian of the marshes who spoke French and was born in the 1850s. She gave Great Uncle a map of Irish Bayou she had drawn, dated 1922. On its back she wrote, “Detruire l’alcool!” Uncle had that map framed on his office wall, but it was stolen after Katrina. If you are aware of its whereabouts, please let us know.
When Isidor “Izzy” Einstein, another well known alcohol buster, visited New Orleans in the early ‘20s, Great Uncle hosted a dinner in his honor. The two became great friends and continued a correspondence with him until his death. I do not think Great Uncle ever met Eliot Ness, but Great Uncle was to New Orleans what Eliot Ness was to Chicago.
4. Grandfather, a champion tarpon fisherman
Grandfather has never been one to boast of his considerable talents. Tomato grower, story weaver, wood carver, masterful prayer writer, elegant pianist, the list goes on. He also will not tell you, unless you ask, and sometimes you have to ask more than once, to talk about his fishing accomplishments. One time many years ago on a stop at the delightful old dining room of the New Orleans Big Game Fishing Club in Port Eads, I overheard several members call Grandfather “the Zane Grey of Louisiana.” High praise, indeed.
Today, Grandfather is too old to do much fishing. In his youth, though, he was known as one of the mavericks of Lake Pontchartrain tarpon fishing. The tarpon fishery was discovered, by most accounts, by Mr. Peter Sapurein, who Grandfather fondly recalls.
Sapurein had been raised along the waters of Bayou St. John. In the 1920s, as the Highway 11 bridge, which was called the Watson Williams Bridge back then, opened, the land around Irish Bayou was plotted by land speculators. Lots appeared for sale for $400-600, and Sapurein moved his house boat from Bayou St. John to Irish Bayou.
On the banks of the bayou, he built the famous Bungalow Camp, which became a locally famous fishing camp. Sapurein guided groups for bass, trout, and sheepshead. Now, Irish Bayou has always been a well known fishing hole. In fact, in 1903, the Louisiana record largemouth bass, weighing eleven pounds, was caught there. The largest ever sheepshead verified by a biologist in Louisiana, at 13 pounds, came from Irish Bayou as well. But from the 1930s to the 1970s, what attracted fishermen to Irish Bayou was the silver king, the tarpon.
Following the annual migration of pogies into the lake, the tarpon started to appear in July, when water temperatures snuck into the upper 80s. Sapurein popularized trolling for tarpon with large spoons in the waters between Irish Bayou and the western edge of the Rigolets. Only about five miles northeast of Irish Bayou, the opening of the Rigolets there has the deepest point in the entire Pontchartrain basin, around 68 feet.
This long standing state record tarpon was caught just off Irish Bayou in 1951. It weighed 198.5 pounds and reminds us that only laziness prevents us from dressing in slacks and multicolored toe tipped Oxfords to fish for tarpon.
Grandfather first fished with Sapurein as a teenager when Great Grandfather took him out the last weekend of August. Grandfather caught three tarpon that day, and fell in love with tarpon fishing. Trolling for tarpon was a topic over which Grandfather and I never agreed. To me, it is skill-less and drags slower than watching professional athletic events on the television.
Grandfather caught the tarpon and he caught the bug. For his 21st birthday present, his parents purchased him a Wheeler, his prized possession, which he kept docked at a friend’s camp at Irish Bayou. Every free weekend in late July through early September, Grandfather says he was out trolling Lake Pontchartrain for tarpon. Most days out, he would hook at least one. Landing them was a little harder. His largest tarpon in the lake was 177 pounds. Caught four miles from the camp on a dead mullet on the bottom, he fought it for 90 minutes. He had it mounted in his office for years, proudly displaying it above his desk.
I always say that Grandfather graduated to offshore fly fishing, which he picked up after growing tired of trolling blue waters in the 80s. But he always says tarpon fishing was his first love. Maybe I will take him out next month to the pits near New Orleans East and see if we can wrestle up a big silver side.
Great Grandfather’s brother was a fine and upstanding man who, like many in the family, was a Princeton graduate. I believe he was a student at that school during Woodrow Wilson’s service as president to the university in the first decade of that century. While at Princeton, he converted to Presbyterianism and joined the glorious Temperance movement. He founded the first Anti-Saloon League on campus and was a vocal leader who converted many to the just cause. After law school at Tulane, he worked in one of the great New Orleans law firms of the day. Socially, he was a member of the Boston Club, but shied from most of their activities because almost always they involved alcohol.
When the Volstead Act passed, he decided to quit his law practice and join the Bureau of Prohibition, which was part of the Department of Treasury. While his superiors wanted him in the courtroom putting the alcohol pushers in prison where they belonged, Great Uncle wanted to get his hands dirty and work in the field. After several months of petitioning, he was finally tasked with leading the South Louisiana Prohibition Force.
The marsh and bayous of 1920s southeastern Louisiana were overflowing with rum runners, many who were supplied by organized crime in Cuba. The local runners were employed by Silver Dollar Sam Carolla, who was acting Boss in New Orleans, although there were always whispers that Charles Matranga was the man pulling the strings up until his death in 1943. This was to be the second of several clashes between our family and the Mafia. (The intimations on the OT that Uncle is somehow a made man or friendly with any such people is ludicrous). Running rum through the marshes of eastern Orleans and St. Bernard Parishes was like putting a fire hose through a broken sieve before Great Uncle took charge.
Great Uncle was determined to keep every drop of this lethal drug out of the holy city of New Orleans. And it was no easy task. He got rid of several corrupt agents and dealt with mines in the water and vandalism to his boats, like his favorite boat,Prohibition Launch B-101. The day after he turned down a suitcase filled with cash and a box of his favorite chocolates delivered by two Italian men in striped double-breasted suits, capped with fedoras, his house was firebombed. Great Uncle never married, and we speculated that it was because he spent his fruitful years living in the marshes, stamping out this plague, and later was harassed by the same terrorists he nearly brought to ruin.
How many hundreds of thousands of gallons of liquor Great Uncle dumped into the waters of Lakes Pontchartrain and Borgne no one will ever know. He was responsible for more alcohol arrests than any other on the Gulf. His knowledge of the waterways around Irish Bayou and along Bayou Sauvage was unparalleled, except for, perhaps that of Mrs. Melisse Darda. Mrs. Darda was a Native Indian of the marshes who spoke French and was born in the 1850s. She gave Great Uncle a map of Irish Bayou she had drawn, dated 1922. On its back she wrote, “Detruire l’alcool!” Uncle had that map framed on his office wall, but it was stolen after Katrina. If you are aware of its whereabouts, please let us know.
When Isidor “Izzy” Einstein, another well known alcohol buster, visited New Orleans in the early ‘20s, Great Uncle hosted a dinner in his honor. The two became great friends and continued a correspondence with him until his death. I do not think Great Uncle ever met Eliot Ness, but Great Uncle was to New Orleans what Eliot Ness was to Chicago.
4. Grandfather, a champion tarpon fisherman
Grandfather has never been one to boast of his considerable talents. Tomato grower, story weaver, wood carver, masterful prayer writer, elegant pianist, the list goes on. He also will not tell you, unless you ask, and sometimes you have to ask more than once, to talk about his fishing accomplishments. One time many years ago on a stop at the delightful old dining room of the New Orleans Big Game Fishing Club in Port Eads, I overheard several members call Grandfather “the Zane Grey of Louisiana.” High praise, indeed.
Today, Grandfather is too old to do much fishing. In his youth, though, he was known as one of the mavericks of Lake Pontchartrain tarpon fishing. The tarpon fishery was discovered, by most accounts, by Mr. Peter Sapurein, who Grandfather fondly recalls.
Sapurein had been raised along the waters of Bayou St. John. In the 1920s, as the Highway 11 bridge, which was called the Watson Williams Bridge back then, opened, the land around Irish Bayou was plotted by land speculators. Lots appeared for sale for $400-600, and Sapurein moved his house boat from Bayou St. John to Irish Bayou.
On the banks of the bayou, he built the famous Bungalow Camp, which became a locally famous fishing camp. Sapurein guided groups for bass, trout, and sheepshead. Now, Irish Bayou has always been a well known fishing hole. In fact, in 1903, the Louisiana record largemouth bass, weighing eleven pounds, was caught there. The largest ever sheepshead verified by a biologist in Louisiana, at 13 pounds, came from Irish Bayou as well. But from the 1930s to the 1970s, what attracted fishermen to Irish Bayou was the silver king, the tarpon.
Following the annual migration of pogies into the lake, the tarpon started to appear in July, when water temperatures snuck into the upper 80s. Sapurein popularized trolling for tarpon with large spoons in the waters between Irish Bayou and the western edge of the Rigolets. Only about five miles northeast of Irish Bayou, the opening of the Rigolets there has the deepest point in the entire Pontchartrain basin, around 68 feet.
This long standing state record tarpon was caught just off Irish Bayou in 1951. It weighed 198.5 pounds and reminds us that only laziness prevents us from dressing in slacks and multicolored toe tipped Oxfords to fish for tarpon.
Grandfather first fished with Sapurein as a teenager when Great Grandfather took him out the last weekend of August. Grandfather caught three tarpon that day, and fell in love with tarpon fishing. Trolling for tarpon was a topic over which Grandfather and I never agreed. To me, it is skill-less and drags slower than watching professional athletic events on the television.
Grandfather caught the tarpon and he caught the bug. For his 21st birthday present, his parents purchased him a Wheeler, his prized possession, which he kept docked at a friend’s camp at Irish Bayou. Every free weekend in late July through early September, Grandfather says he was out trolling Lake Pontchartrain for tarpon. Most days out, he would hook at least one. Landing them was a little harder. His largest tarpon in the lake was 177 pounds. Caught four miles from the camp on a dead mullet on the bottom, he fought it for 90 minutes. He had it mounted in his office for years, proudly displaying it above his desk.
I always say that Grandfather graduated to offshore fly fishing, which he picked up after growing tired of trolling blue waters in the 80s. But he always says tarpon fishing was his first love. Maybe I will take him out next month to the pits near New Orleans East and see if we can wrestle up a big silver side.
This post was edited on 7/20/23 at 6:55 am
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:22 pm to TulaneLSU
TulaneLSU’s recent walk through Irish Bayou
All of Grandfather’s stories about Irish Bayou ran through my head a few weeks ago while I tried to sleep. By 4 AM I was restless, and rather than waste any more time turning in bed, I decided to start a long walk to clear my head. Normally I will walk along the River, but this time, I chose to depart our Mid-City home and walk to Irish Bayou.
My route followed the Old Gentilly Road, which follows a natural levee that was once a meander in the Mississippi River. Long ago, though, it was possibly the actual river’s path. It is a serpentine path that goes through many interesting neighborhoods. From City Park, I saw Gentilly and the Baptist Seminary and then the Danzinger Bridge, which is my preferred crossing of the Industrial Canal. I reached New Orleans East around 6:30 and Chef Menteur was remarkably quiet and empty at that hour.
There really is not a lot to note for most of the path on Chef Menteur until you approach Village d’Est. I ran across a few moccasins shortly after this little Vietnamese enclave was behind me. Maybe an hour or so past Dong Phuong, where I stopped and got a delicious egg custard and three croissants (why can I eat croissants without ever getting full?), there comes a fork in the road where Highway 11 branches from Chef Menteur and the natural levee.
The landscape dramatically changes when you move a short distance from Chef Menteur. Half a mile north, the trees give way to open marshland and reeds. On the right the manmade Irish Bayou Canal might trick some to conclude that this is a natural old meander, splitting from Bayou Sauvage. In fact, this waterway was actually built for two reasons: to elevate the land on which they would build Highway 11 and to provide a straight waterway from Irish Bayou to Bayou Sauvage. Its construction occurred back in the 1920s and has exacerbated saltwater intrusion into this part of New Orleans East. Grandfather told me that when the Lake was too rough to fish, he would crab in this canal with old crab nets that his father had purchased at Cattana’s in the Quarter. He would fill his truck’s bed with crab, and sometimes even catch some jumbo crawfish!
This part of the trip is quite lonely and a bit harrowing. There is no shoulder, and when cars would pass on the narrow road, I had to move to the side where alligators and snakes are plentiful. I only saw two alligators, but the water moccasins were everywhere. I felt bad that, after being chased and snapped at by one, I had to kill it with my walking stick.
Several people honked at me along this stretch, I assumed to send me good wishes and their prayers on my journey. But one most unpleasant fellow in a Ford Mustang actually blared his horn as he drove past me and then stuck his left hand out the window and extended only his middle finger toward the sky. I took a break both to pray for forgiveness for this fellow and to take a water break. It was getting really hot. After a couple of hours, though, I had reached the levee protection system and entered the fabled Irish Bayou.
After another couple of hours walking through and touring this lovely strip of New Orleans, I called Mother, who had not noticed I was gone, and she came and drove me home. But I am happy to report that I had the most pleasant of times and can now provide you with:
TulaneLSU’s Top 10 structures of Irish Bayou:
10. Wood skeleton
Both Hurricanes Zeta and Ida walloped Irish Bayou in recent years. Much of the damage remains. Wood framing is beautiful, even in ruin, because it reminds us how much is possible. They remind me of Ezekiel's vision in the valley of the bones (Ez 37):
9. Grounded sports fisher
I assume this boat has been in this condition for two years since Ida. A large fence with menacing no trespassing signs prevented me from walking closer. Nearby and across the street there is a 17’ ski boat hull, painted blue, red and yellow, that has been sitting on the road’s shoulder for nearly two years. I assume they are waiting for Sidney Torres or whoever is in charge of the garbage to pick it up.
8. Large camps
There are perhaps ten large camps that seem to have been repaired since Ida. Not a one invited me for lunch, and by the time I passed these camps, I was really, really hungry. When Mother found me near this camp, she was quite upset and brought me straight to Golden Corral in Kenner for a late lunch-dinner. I ate thirteen sirloins.
7. ATT elevated office
Probably one of the safer places to ride out a hurricane in Irish Bayou, this windowless, elevated bunker reminds me of Broussard’s pump station apartments in Jefferson Parish.
6. A fancy old car
Not an expert on cars, this looks like a 1970s Toyota Celica to me. I would drive it.
5. Camp pushed off its stilts
Whether it was wind or storm surge, it appears that this camp once sat upon those pilings. It is a reminder why, if you do not have an elevated bunker, it is probably best to evacuate if you are outside the levee protection system.
4. An old Hatteras
Before Hatteras was bought by Bass Pro Shops in 2021, it was on the decline. Uncle had long since converted from a Hatteras to a Viking man. But it still brings back happy memories when I see an old Hatteras afloat.
3. Del Lagos Marina
Any fisherman in this area knows Del Lagos well. It appears still to be open, although, only as a launch. I did not see any bait availability and the old cold drink machine was missing. The building is missing its roof.
All of Grandfather’s stories about Irish Bayou ran through my head a few weeks ago while I tried to sleep. By 4 AM I was restless, and rather than waste any more time turning in bed, I decided to start a long walk to clear my head. Normally I will walk along the River, but this time, I chose to depart our Mid-City home and walk to Irish Bayou.
My route followed the Old Gentilly Road, which follows a natural levee that was once a meander in the Mississippi River. Long ago, though, it was possibly the actual river’s path. It is a serpentine path that goes through many interesting neighborhoods. From City Park, I saw Gentilly and the Baptist Seminary and then the Danzinger Bridge, which is my preferred crossing of the Industrial Canal. I reached New Orleans East around 6:30 and Chef Menteur was remarkably quiet and empty at that hour.
There really is not a lot to note for most of the path on Chef Menteur until you approach Village d’Est. I ran across a few moccasins shortly after this little Vietnamese enclave was behind me. Maybe an hour or so past Dong Phuong, where I stopped and got a delicious egg custard and three croissants (why can I eat croissants without ever getting full?), there comes a fork in the road where Highway 11 branches from Chef Menteur and the natural levee.
The landscape dramatically changes when you move a short distance from Chef Menteur. Half a mile north, the trees give way to open marshland and reeds. On the right the manmade Irish Bayou Canal might trick some to conclude that this is a natural old meander, splitting from Bayou Sauvage. In fact, this waterway was actually built for two reasons: to elevate the land on which they would build Highway 11 and to provide a straight waterway from Irish Bayou to Bayou Sauvage. Its construction occurred back in the 1920s and has exacerbated saltwater intrusion into this part of New Orleans East. Grandfather told me that when the Lake was too rough to fish, he would crab in this canal with old crab nets that his father had purchased at Cattana’s in the Quarter. He would fill his truck’s bed with crab, and sometimes even catch some jumbo crawfish!
This part of the trip is quite lonely and a bit harrowing. There is no shoulder, and when cars would pass on the narrow road, I had to move to the side where alligators and snakes are plentiful. I only saw two alligators, but the water moccasins were everywhere. I felt bad that, after being chased and snapped at by one, I had to kill it with my walking stick.
Several people honked at me along this stretch, I assumed to send me good wishes and their prayers on my journey. But one most unpleasant fellow in a Ford Mustang actually blared his horn as he drove past me and then stuck his left hand out the window and extended only his middle finger toward the sky. I took a break both to pray for forgiveness for this fellow and to take a water break. It was getting really hot. After a couple of hours, though, I had reached the levee protection system and entered the fabled Irish Bayou.
After another couple of hours walking through and touring this lovely strip of New Orleans, I called Mother, who had not noticed I was gone, and she came and drove me home. But I am happy to report that I had the most pleasant of times and can now provide you with:
TulaneLSU’s Top 10 structures of Irish Bayou:
10. Wood skeleton
Both Hurricanes Zeta and Ida walloped Irish Bayou in recent years. Much of the damage remains. Wood framing is beautiful, even in ruin, because it reminds us how much is possible. They remind me of Ezekiel's vision in the valley of the bones (Ez 37):
quote:
The hand of the Lord was on me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. He asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?”
I said, “Sovereign Lord, you alone know.”
Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.’”
9. Grounded sports fisher
I assume this boat has been in this condition for two years since Ida. A large fence with menacing no trespassing signs prevented me from walking closer. Nearby and across the street there is a 17’ ski boat hull, painted blue, red and yellow, that has been sitting on the road’s shoulder for nearly two years. I assume they are waiting for Sidney Torres or whoever is in charge of the garbage to pick it up.
8. Large camps
There are perhaps ten large camps that seem to have been repaired since Ida. Not a one invited me for lunch, and by the time I passed these camps, I was really, really hungry. When Mother found me near this camp, she was quite upset and brought me straight to Golden Corral in Kenner for a late lunch-dinner. I ate thirteen sirloins.
7. ATT elevated office
Probably one of the safer places to ride out a hurricane in Irish Bayou, this windowless, elevated bunker reminds me of Broussard’s pump station apartments in Jefferson Parish.
6. A fancy old car
Not an expert on cars, this looks like a 1970s Toyota Celica to me. I would drive it.
5. Camp pushed off its stilts
Whether it was wind or storm surge, it appears that this camp once sat upon those pilings. It is a reminder why, if you do not have an elevated bunker, it is probably best to evacuate if you are outside the levee protection system.
4. An old Hatteras
Before Hatteras was bought by Bass Pro Shops in 2021, it was on the decline. Uncle had long since converted from a Hatteras to a Viking man. But it still brings back happy memories when I see an old Hatteras afloat.
3. Del Lagos Marina
Any fisherman in this area knows Del Lagos well. It appears still to be open, although, only as a launch. I did not see any bait availability and the old cold drink machine was missing. The building is missing its roof.
This post was edited on 7/20/23 at 7:10 am
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:22 pm to TulaneLSU
2. The levee
The $15 billion dollar federal levee system that locals lobbied so hard for after Katrina was finished in May of 2022. The New Orleans East portion was finished much sooner. This gate on Highway 11 keeps the waters out of the East. Irish Bayou, however, is one of the few settlements in southeast Louisiana that sits outside any levee system.
1. Fisherman’s Castle
Everyone knew this was going to be the top pick before even opening the thread. Still, it is an undisputed #1, some might even call it world famous. Construction on this castle began in 1980 and was complete the following year. Initially intended to be a roadside tourist attraction for the ‘84 World’’s Fair, it has not done much other than stand sentinel within sight of I-10, sometimes listing to the side, sometimes upright, sometimes bright white, sometimes dingy. It is now for sale.
As I walked past it, I waved to some laborers who were doing repairs. They waved back. I smiled and ran to them and asked them if I could look around and take pictures. They happily obliged, fulfilling a childhood fantasy I had of seeing what the inside of it looks like. So now, I am happy to share with you some interior pictures.
The house itself is quite small. You enter to the right up some stairs and enter a circular room where the kitchen and presumably sitting room are. The king sits upon his throne here. I suppose when he gets tired of the throne, he moves to the carousel horse?
A circular set of stairs leads on up to a circular red room, again, probably for sitting and reading or for a bedroom, with a half bath. There is an imposing chandelier, upon which a sign of the Zodiac is painted. I made a sign of the Cross when I saw this pagan foolishness. If I were purchasing this house for $500,000, my first request would be for that evil to be painted over or removed.
From this room, you can enter the turret, which had a wobbly metal spiral staircase that I started climbing. Discovering how wobbly it was, I decided it best not to go any higher.
Heading back downstairs, I returned to the kitch/main room. Through the southwestern wooden arched door, one enters one the other bedroom, a delightful yellow room with a decent light fixture and new A/C unit. It has a shower with stone walls. This room has a wonderful view of the Irish Bayou Lagoon, where I am sure largemouth bass and perch and even blue crab are plentiful. Stunning sunsets also reflect off these waters and reflect memories of a royal moat.
Leaving the house, one goes back downstairs. Across the archway, there is a small bathroom with a urinal. I could see this room most useful if one is fishing or crabbing from the backyard.
What a wonderful little walk through the marsh and memories this journey has been. Thank you for joining me. May God bless all your paths. And perhaps we can rent a camp in Irish Bayou together and have a fishing adventure!
Faith, Hope, and Love,
TulaneLSU
The $15 billion dollar federal levee system that locals lobbied so hard for after Katrina was finished in May of 2022. The New Orleans East portion was finished much sooner. This gate on Highway 11 keeps the waters out of the East. Irish Bayou, however, is one of the few settlements in southeast Louisiana that sits outside any levee system.
1. Fisherman’s Castle
Everyone knew this was going to be the top pick before even opening the thread. Still, it is an undisputed #1, some might even call it world famous. Construction on this castle began in 1980 and was complete the following year. Initially intended to be a roadside tourist attraction for the ‘84 World’’s Fair, it has not done much other than stand sentinel within sight of I-10, sometimes listing to the side, sometimes upright, sometimes bright white, sometimes dingy. It is now for sale.
As I walked past it, I waved to some laborers who were doing repairs. They waved back. I smiled and ran to them and asked them if I could look around and take pictures. They happily obliged, fulfilling a childhood fantasy I had of seeing what the inside of it looks like. So now, I am happy to share with you some interior pictures.
The house itself is quite small. You enter to the right up some stairs and enter a circular room where the kitchen and presumably sitting room are. The king sits upon his throne here. I suppose when he gets tired of the throne, he moves to the carousel horse?
A circular set of stairs leads on up to a circular red room, again, probably for sitting and reading or for a bedroom, with a half bath. There is an imposing chandelier, upon which a sign of the Zodiac is painted. I made a sign of the Cross when I saw this pagan foolishness. If I were purchasing this house for $500,000, my first request would be for that evil to be painted over or removed.
From this room, you can enter the turret, which had a wobbly metal spiral staircase that I started climbing. Discovering how wobbly it was, I decided it best not to go any higher.
Heading back downstairs, I returned to the kitch/main room. Through the southwestern wooden arched door, one enters one the other bedroom, a delightful yellow room with a decent light fixture and new A/C unit. It has a shower with stone walls. This room has a wonderful view of the Irish Bayou Lagoon, where I am sure largemouth bass and perch and even blue crab are plentiful. Stunning sunsets also reflect off these waters and reflect memories of a royal moat.
Leaving the house, one goes back downstairs. Across the archway, there is a small bathroom with a urinal. I could see this room most useful if one is fishing or crabbing from the backyard.
What a wonderful little walk through the marsh and memories this journey has been. Thank you for joining me. May God bless all your paths. And perhaps we can rent a camp in Irish Bayou together and have a fishing adventure!
Faith, Hope, and Love,
TulaneLSU
This post was edited on 7/19/23 at 8:30 pm
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:22 pm to TulaneLSU
b
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:23 pm to TulaneLSU
4 saved spots already. this is gonna be a doosey
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:23 pm to TulaneLSU
C.....c dis shite???
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:23 pm to TulaneLSU
void
This post was edited on 7/21/23 at 1:18 am
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:24 pm to TulaneLSU
#1 The Castle
/thread
/thread
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:24 pm to Cosmo
Here
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:25 pm to Cosmo
The thread title originally said “CNBC top states to move to”
TulaneLSU fricked up
TulaneLSU fricked up
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:26 pm to TulaneLSU
Page 1
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:26 pm to TulaneLSU
Your fans waiting in anticipation:
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:30 pm to TulaneLSU
quote:
Not an expert on cars, this looks like a 1970s Toyota Celica to me. I would drive it.
Possibly my favorite line of all your posts and I am not even sure why.
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:33 pm to TulaneLSU
Ive always wondered what that castle was, and now I know.
Thanks
Thanks
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:36 pm to TulaneLSU
Castle is for sale, why don't you buy it?
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:37 pm to TulaneLSU
Stop wasting bandwidth you dolt
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:39 pm to Major Dutch Schaefer
I asked for roadside attractions in your last glorious post and behold TulaneLSU delivered! Might I add that with your all religious leanings does gluttony not factor into your consciousness? 13 sirloin steaks seems a bit much.
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:41 pm to TulaneLSU
what a long winded blowhard
Posted on 7/19/23 at 8:41 pm to TulaneLSU
Stfu.
This guy is gonna snap soon and be wanted for murder. Just know it.
This guy is gonna snap soon and be wanted for murder. Just know it.
This post was edited on 7/19/23 at 11:34 pm
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