As is the norm, Lagniappe’s feature stories have gotten a positive reception from the Lake Area public. We get much more positive feedback than negative.
All of this reflects the nature of the magazine. Lagniappe tends to have an upbeat tone that is indicative of its positive view of area life. The magazine aims to strike a balance between Southwest Louisiana’s urban and rural cultures, and to note, and sometimes celebrate, the area’s distinctive allegiance to tradition.
Lagniappe’s focus has always been on “the story behind the story.” A magazine that comes out twice a month usually isn’t in a position to break big news. What Lagniappe tends to do in its feature stories is find the human element in the newsmaker, or uncover the moving human interest story that has gone unnoticed in the endless succession of news headlines in the broader world. Readers have come to count on the periodical for long personal profiles of remarkable local individuals (both well-known and unknown). In Lagniappe, they find the personal, human element.
Columnists have provided a rich mix that includes serious commentary on economics and politics, as well as generous servings of local color and humor. All of these emphases will be evident somewhere in the summaries of Lagniappe stories that follow.
As you will see in the summaries, several features put before the public the hidden story that had managed to escape the attention of the rest of the local media. A few even brought about some concrete change in local culture or economics.
Taken as a whole, the stories provide a rough overview of the area’s culture in the last 40 years. One sees in these stories that the down-to-earth culture of Southwest Louisiana allows for a down-to-earth focus on the little details of the human experience: the colorful details that sometimes get lost in the big story.
That is the broader context. Now, for the stories themselves …
APORKALYPSE NOW
Hunting Feral Hogs — From The Sky September 21, 2017
When Lagniappe reported on the Texas industry of shooting feral hogs from helicopters, the practice had already been legal for several years in the Lone Star State, and people there had become accustomed to it.
And there was money to be made with it. In 2017, nearly 3,000 aerial hog hunting trips were sold in Texas. Some trip packages went for as much as $50,000.
Outspoken celebrity Ted Nugent garnished much national media coverage for his aerial Texas hog hunting. Nugent’s appearances went a long way in establishing the new Texas hunting practice as an industry that appealed to the public. Nugent claimed on TV that he had fired more than 750 rounds a minute from the helicopter.
But some experts claimed that these new hunting methods — and, in fact, all feral hog eradication efforts put together — weren’t really making a dent in the feral hog population. “You are not even stemming the tide,” said Jack Mayer, author of the book Wild Pigs in the United States.
Be that as it may, the various feral hog eradication operations continued to develop. When Lagniappe ran its story, the Texas Legislature had just passed a bill legalizing the shooting of feral hogs from hot air balloons (with nary a peep of opposition from the public). It was thought that hot-balloon hunting would eliminate the helicopter rotor noises that sometimes scared off the pigs.
INVASION OF THE DRONES
April 2, 2015
In the spring of 2015, a short crime report in the American Press stated that an unidentified drone had been “seen flying over local industrial plants.” Readers were given a phone number and invited to call something called the “Joint Terrorism Task Force.”
When Lagniappe correspondent Brad Goins called that number, he may have felt more like a character in an episode of X Files than a small town magazine reporter. The person who answered the phone told Goins he was working with the FBI and the FBI wouldn’t be issuing any statements about the matter.
Goins next called a local drone owner who did work for area industries. He said he’d been called by the FBI the night before (and had presumably been asked not to say anything).
Goins then called a state expert on drone law. He told the long-suffering newsman that he could tell him nothing about the drone because he was, at this point, working with the FBI on it. “They got to me first,” he told Goins.
Goins eventually got in touch with a member of the Calcasieu Parish Sheriff’s Office who was also working with the FBI, but was willing to talk.
It turned out that the drone in question was gray and white; shaped like an airplane; and had an 8-foot wing span. It could travel up to 40 mph. It flew over an area plant for 3 seconds.
The source said, “We don’t believe it’s terrorism-related. We don’t believe it was malicious. It definitely caused quite a stir.”
October 2, 2014
After the double devastation doled out by Hurricanes Rita and Ike, lots in Cameron Parish “were sold at record low prices,” wrote journalist Rhonda Carlson. “Many residents cancelled plans to rebuild.”
As Cameron Parish is unincorporated, its only governmental body is the Police Jury, which regulates construction, modular homes and recreational vehicles, square footage, building plans and so forth.
The Cameron Parish Police Jury would seem to be the body primarily concerned with enforcing a Louisiana Senate resolution (No. 42) that stipulated that in Cameron Parish, if anyone installs a sewer system, there are to be four consecutive lots — or a total of 5,000 square feet
— in the construction. Only one habitable structure, whether it’s a permanent house or motor home, can be placed on each four-lot sequence.
SCR 42 states that “the Cameron Parish Police Jury will be authorized to provide appropriate enforcement mechanisms to discourage … connecting multiple habitable structures to an individual sewerage systems.”
But Carlson reported, “It’s obvious there are many 5,000-square-foot parcels that now have two FEMA trailers.”
Carlson asked Eric Monceaux, owner of Holly Beach Rentals and RV Park, “how he was getting around the statutes set by the state Legislature” by putting two FEMA trailers on four-lot parcels.
Monceaux stated he was given a waiver in 2006 by the La. Dept. of Health and Hospitals because he owned a business before Rita hit.
But Dane Thibodeaux at the La. Dept. of Health and Hospitals told Carlson that Monceaux “has not been issued a waiver. In fact, he has been denied several requests for lack of proof that his businesses operated before the storm.”
Carlson maintained that “Monceaux is putting unchecked rows of FEMA trailers all over the area — all the way down to the east end of Holly Beach. This has created an immense eyesore, and has earned the once quaint community the unflattering nickname of ‘FEMA Town.’”
In response to residents’ complaints that Monceaux’s trailers were draining water into open ditches, Thomas Landry, who worked at the State Fire Marshal’s office in Lake Charles, said, “It sounds like someone isn’t following proper protocol. As far as I know, FEMA trailers are designed for temporary housing and are prohibited for any other use.”
The owners of the 48 permanent homes that had been built on Holly Beach by Oct., 2014, were greatly concerned about the proliferation of FEMA trailers around them. Some felt that in a hurricane, the trailers would become projectiles that would smash through their homes.
April 4, 2013
Lagniappe became the first local media venue to report that members of a Houston gang — the 103s — had conducted a string of daytime home burglaries in the Lake Charles Country Club area, starting in December, 2012.
A quarter of a million dollars worth of goods were stolen from houses in a five-block area in less than a month.
In mid-January, on a Wednesday afternoon, residents spotted a group of men in a black Impala going from door to door in the area, ringing doorbells. Later, police found the car parked near Prien Lake Park. All four of the car’s inhabitants had 103s tattoos. Also found in the car was a GPS set to locations of Lake Charles golf courses — locations that would tend to be the sites of upscale homes.
When police raided the Houston home of one of the four arrested — Derrick Brooks — they found a gun that had been stolen from a Portrush Drive home in Lake Charles.
Police believe that the Houston criminals took their Lake Charles loot to Houston jewelers who were willing and able to do smelting of jewelry on site.
GOING POSTAL
June 23, 2022
In 2022, the big blue mailboxes outside the main Post Office on Moss Street were no longer there for us. One morning we drove up to find that they’d been covered; closed; put off-limits.
People were stealing the mail right out of the big blue boxes. Once they acquired the mail, they did a number of things with the checks in it: cashed them; deposited them in a bogus account or used the information at their disposal to counterfeit entirely new checks.
One popular rumor had it that the criminals lowered some sort of net into the boxes, then pulled it up when they were ready to collect.
As Brad Goins reported, these thieves may have dealt the most severe blow to the local office of Housing and Urban Development. Like many downtown operations, the HUD office used the mailboxes at the Moss Street P.O. to post their mail. Once the thieves and counterfeiters had a single check from HUD, it was easy to place the routing and checking numbers on as many fake checks as they cared to.
The last fake HUD check cashed was for $180,000.
The FBI, HUD, the HUD Inspector General, the Secret Service and other agencies became involved in the case.
And J.J. March 4, 2021
When Joshua “J.J.” Vallow, 7, and Tylee Ryan, 16, seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth, phone calls made by their Lake Charles grandparents, Larry and Kay Woodcock, led officials to the whereabouts of the youths.
Lori Vallow, the “Doomsday Mom,” was the biological mother of Tylee and adoptive mother of “J.J.” The trouble began when Lori met Chad Daybell, author of doomsday books, who would become her fifth husband. Lori believed Chad when he said he was a “prophet.”
Alex Cox, Lori’s brother and a key player in the doomsday cult, often acted as the enforcer of Chad and Lori’s murderous schemes. Eventually, he fell victim to one: shot to death by Chad and Lori.
Here’s a brief look at what the cult believed. Divorce papers indicated that Charles Vallow was told by his wife Lori at the time that she was a “translated being” who “cannot taste death.” She believed she had lived “numerous lives on numerous planets.” She told Charles she was a reincarnated god who been assigned to handle preparations for the return of Jesus in July, 2020.
On Nov. 26, 2019, Rexburg, Idaho, Police came to Lori’s door. Alex told police J.J. was “with his grandparents
in Louisiana.” Police knew the wellness check had been requested by the grandparents in Lake Charles.
Lori and Chad fled to Hawaii on Dec. 1, 2019. On Feb. 20, 2020, Lori was arrested by Hawaiian authorities.
On June 9, 2020, the remains of Tylee Ryan and J.J. Vallow were found on Chad Daybell’s property. When Chad texted Lori to tell her the burial was complete, he ended the message with the phrase “Fun Times!” Chad had told Lori that J.J. and Tylee had become “zombies,” which is what he called people he thought were non-believers who had been possessed by a demon.
On July 31, 2023, Lori Daybell was sentenced to life without parole.
June 21, 2012
In 2012, Lagniappe published what might have been its biggest scoop ever: the story “Lost At Sea: The Lone Survivor Of The Willis Noland Tragedy Tells Lagniappe What Happened.”
For more than 20 years, Lake Area residents had wondered how prominent local figure Willis Noland had been lost at sea. The only survivor who’d been present at the incident, Jerry Roy, had long kept the story to himself, as the emotions connected with the incidents remained extremely strong for him.
Finally, in 2012, he decided to tell his story to local historian and writer Nola Mae Ross, who, in turn, related it to Lagniappe’s readers.
Roy explained that Noland had been adding large structures, such as rooms and extra ballast, to his 50-foot-long boat Pas Terre. In fact, he eventually added three stories to the top of the boat. Noland wasn’t trained in boat-building, and many felt he’d created a boat that was top-heavy.
Roy relates that he, friend Tom Pucci and Noland were sailing the Pas Terre on Caribbean waters near St. Martin Island on Dec. 14, 1990. Waves were up to six feet, and Roy sensed the boat, which was being captained by Noland, was moving at up to 10 knots, which Roy felt was too fast for the conditions.
As the ocean conditions worsened, a big wave hit the boat and it rapidly rolled over. Roy tried but failed to rescue Pucci, who floated away, very likely already dead. Roy managed to hoist Noland up on to the hull of the boat (which now protruded up out of the water). He assumed at this point that Noland was alive. But by the time Roy had made his final preparations to escape the massive suction that he knew would occur as the boat sank, he realized Noland was no longer among the living. He lost sight of Noland when the boat went down.
Roy made a hellish 33-hour swim to the Port of St. Martin. Along the way, he was stung by a school of sea wasps — creatures resembling jelly fish. He had already been badly cut by the barnacles on the hull of the Pas Terre. After he spent two weeks in the ICU at St. Martin’s, he developed pneumonia. His full recovery took months.
“The reason I’m telling this story now is because I know it needed to be told,” said Roy.
February 21, 2013
Lagniappe’s profile of Lake Charles Mayor Randy Roach described Roach’s unusually long tenure as mayor — a tenure that was extended by a term a few days after the story appeared. (“Piece By Piece: In Spite Of Repeated Adversity, Mayor Randy Roach Has Stuck To A Development Plan That Reflects The Community’s Personality.”)
Roach noted that one thing that’s made his tenure pass faster than it might have is the string of adversities the city has faced during the time. These downturns have included Hurricanes Rita and Ike, the Great Recession and the way in which the recession abruptly knocked the bottom out of the local tourist and real estate industries.
Roach said these “major events” had had a “substantial influence” on the city and his time in office.
One of Roach’s responses to these downturns was a plan of development that united the area’s strengths — its blending of the rural and the urban; its distinctive culture — with a sense of how these strengths could be used to boost the local economy. “What gives a city its personality is its arts and culture,” said Roach.
Some concrete measures Roach took to blend the arts, culture and economy included his work to make the 1911 Historic City Hall a new arts center and to bring new buildings, streetscapes and gardens downtown. “Look either way [from the present City Hall],” he said. “You see a difference downtown.”
Roach didn’t allow the monstrous business and housing expansion south of town to distract him from the central importance of the downtown. “Our downtown becomes our living room,” he said. “If you want to get a feel for a city, you go to the downtown. It’s the center of activity.”
Roach admitted that “the missing link” in Lakefront development was “commercial improvement.” He said, “Those types of projects are what we [hope for]. It’s all about economics.”
Two viable options Roach saw were the “proposed mixed use for the old Sears building and a hotel at the Civic Center.”
Roach saw even more clearly than others the potential impact of the economic boom everyone said was coming to the area. He called it “the epicenter of $30 billion in expansion” (the figure eventually became much greater) and said some were now jokingly referring to it as “Hurricane Sasol.” He saw the change as a generational economic benefit — one that may benefit children and grandchildren even more than present-day adults.
Roach offered Lagniappe an unusually candid assessment of his experience and performance as mayor, telling the magazine, “I have enjoyed very much doing what I do — I wouldn’t say I’m satisfied [with what I’ve done so far]. I don’t think I’m ever satisfied. Twenty/twenty hindsight can be a painful thing. You have to keep moving forward. You can’t let mistakes define you.
A Rose By Many
Other Names
November 18, 2010
In Oliver Stone’s famous movie on the Kennedy assassination, JFK, Sally Kirkland plays the role of Rose Cherami, a mysterious Louisiana prostitute and drug addict who predicted the assassination of Kennedy as she lay in a hospital bed in Eunice, La. Two days after the prediction, Kennedy was shot in Dallas.
In his story “A Rose By Many Other Names: Rose Cherami And The Assassination Of President John F. Kennedy,” Todd Elliott revisited the short, tumultuous life of Cherami, focusing in particular on her connections to the town of Eunice, and what, if anything, these rural Louisiana connections had to do with the Kennedy assassination.
On Nov. 20, 1963, truck driver Frank Odom struck Cherami on Highway 190, outside of Eunice. He took her to the hospital, where she was admitted at 4 pm.
Cherami, who was quite bloody, told hospital workers and law enforcement agents that she’d been thrown from a car onto Highway 190 by a male car driver and his male passenger.
Cherami was so agitated she was taken to jail and then admitted to the Jackson East Louisiana State Hospital for the mentally ill. While patients at the hospital watched the Kennedy motorcade on television, Cherami shouted out, “Watch! This is when it’s going to happen! They’re going to get him! They’re going to get him at the underpass!” When Louisiana State Trooper Lt. Francis Fruge, who’d heard Cherami’s predictions, learned that Kennedy had in fact been shot, he headed straight to the hospital to question Cherami, who claimed the two men who threw her onto Highway 190 had been driving from Miami to Dallas, where, they told her, they would assassinate Kennedy. For her part, she’d accompanied them to Houston to pick up $8,000 from a contact in a drug deal.
Like so many in the Kennedy assassination story, Cherami had a connection with Dallas strong man Jack Ruby. As Fruge and Cherami flew to Texas, so that Fruge could check out her story, Cherami laughed out loud at a newspaper headline that said Ruby had never met Lee Harvey Oswald before he assassinated him. A chuckling Cherami told the lawman that Ruby and Oswald “had been shacking up for years.”
Ruby was rumored to own the lounge The Silver Slipper in Eunice. The spot was also rumored to be connected with prostitution. While Cherami’s rap sheet was longest in New Orleans, she did spend time in The Silver Slipper, and claimed to have recently drunk there with the two mystery men who said they were after Kennedy.
In Texas, Fruge found that at least part of Cherami’s story checked out. She said she and the two men were supposed to pick up heroin from a man who was to have docked at the Port of Galveston but never showed up. Port officials verified that the boat and boat owner had been scheduled to arrive.
Fruge wanted Dallas police to question Cherami. When they said they weren’t interested, Cherami gave up talking — to them or to anyone else. Fruge called it a day and left Cherami in Texas.
Cherami was one of the many connected with the Kennedy case who met with an early, violent death. On Sept. 4, 1965, at 2 am, motorist Jerry Don Moore found Cherami lying by the side of a highway near Big Sandy, Texas — 80 miles outside Dallas. Moore said he saw tire treads on Cherami; he felt she’d been run over. He also claimed three or four suitcases were sitting upright on the highway’s center line so that they were parallel to her body.
Cherami was pronounced dead at Gladewater Memorial Hospital. Her death certificate listed her time of death as both DOA and 11 am on the morning she was found. When New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison (whose investigation of the Kennedy assassination is chronicled in the movie JFK) asked for Cherami’s autopsy, Clearwater staff said they were unable to locate it.
Was Rose Cherami a small player in a big conspiracy, or was she just a heroin addict with an overactive imagination? We can’t know for sure, and very likely never will. But a story with as many loose ends as hers is bound to attract conspiracy theorists for generations to come.
Elliott went on to publish a book on the Cherami case. A Rose By Many Other Names is available in paperback and a Kindle edition.
The Silver Strip
May 1, 2010
Recalling the days when Highway 90 was called Little Las Vegas, late local historian Nola Mae Ross wrote that the bulk of the gambling took place along a 35-mile-long strip of road that ran from Westlake to Orange. (“The Silver Strip: The Silver Star, The Tip Top, The Groves Club, Bat Gormly’s. Decades Before Delta, Isle And L’Auberge, Highway 90 Was Little Las Vegas.”)
Each club on the strip, no matter how small or ramshackle, had dozens of slot machines.
Among the big spots on the Westlake strip was Bat Gormly’s, which at times was run by former boxer Kid Gormly.
The name of Sulphur’s Speedy’s Broken Mirror came from a misadventure owner Speedy Swafford had when he endeavored to buy 400 mirrors for $1 each. His beered-up truck drivers smashed their vehicle into a ditch, breaking most of the 400 mirrors. Swafford had the fragments of the mirrors glued onto the club’s ceiling and walls. Patrons who were able to spot an unbroken mirror got a free drink.
The big club near Orange was The Showboat, which could only be entered by means of a gangplank.
In the 1930s, gambling, which was, officially, illegal in Louisiana, was so popular that even drugstores and service stations had slot machines.
As the 1950s began, organized gambling in Louisiana was on its way out. After the Huey Long era ended, and Gov. Robert Kennon took office, Col. Francis C. Grevenberg led state police in an anti-gambling crusade. Grevenberg, who did much of his work with a sledge hammer, claimed he and his troopers destroyed more than 800 slot machines in three years.
In the Lake Area, gambling opponents joined forces in the People’s Action Group, which was led by Methodist minister Bill Byrd and American Press editor Ken Dixon. When long-time Calcasieu Parish sheriff Ham Reid narrowly defeated an anti-gambling opponent in the race for sheriff, organized gambling in Calcasieu Parish came to a swift end.
Today, there is little physical evidence of the buildings that once made up Highway 90’s Little Las Vegas.
December 30, 2021
In 2020, KPLC meteorologist Ben Terry would become not only a local sensation for his coverage of Hurricane Laura, but also a symbol of the resilience of a community battered to shreds.
KPLC livestreamed information during the days leading up to and during Hurricane Laura. Terry said he had to say “things I didn’t want to say and hope I never have to say again,” such as “take a picture of your house. It might not be there tomorrow.”
A Facebook user posted on Terry’s KPLC Facebook page before Hurricane Laura, accusing him of blowing the hurricane situation out of proportion: “I don’t recall news casting [sic] allowing the use of absolute language and opinions before. I believe it is very unprofessional and promotes fear and panic.” Terry saw the post after the hurricane, and simply replied, “Change the channel then.” Suddenly Terry, and his now signature phrase, was being shared and shared again on Facebook feeds.
Terry had had ulcerative colitis for 16 years. However, due to COVID-19 and hurricane delays, Terry was overdue for his colonoscopy by a year and a half. The week before Thanksgiving, he learned he had Stage 3 colon cancer. In January, 2021, he began chemo.
An MRI taken five months in showed his tumor hadn’t shrunk. The next move was radiation. In September 2021, Terry had cancer surgery at Houston Methodist Hospital.
He told Kerri Cooke of Lagniappe, “I appreciate the community’s support and love all of Southwest Louisiana.” He died on Aug. 13, at the age of 40.
Violent Crime In The Lake Area April 14, 2022
Kerri Cooke reported that homicide crept up on Lagniappe’s back door in spring, 2022, when a double murder was committed on a Friday night. Blood spatter from one of the victims who struggled to get away before collapsing had stained areas of the Lagniappe parking lot.
When taking violent crime per capita into account, Lake Charles, according to FBI statistics from 2020, was the 16th worst metro area, beating out both Baton Rouge and New Orleans.
Louisiana’s homicide rate of 15.8 for every 100,000 people was the highest of any state and more than double the 6.5 per 100,000 national murder rate.
Crime has been rising across the nation, as society has been rocked by socioeconomic instability. The Council on Criminal Justice estimated homicide rates rose 29 percent in 2020 and another 5 percent in 2021.
Mayor Nic Hunter released a statement in 2022 after 6-year-old Draya Michelle Guillory was killed in a drive-by shooting, saying, “This is not Lake Charles and I will not allow this to become Lake Charles.” Twelve members of a group called the NawfSideBabies were arrested for the crime. The LCPD attributed some of the increase in crime to the pandemic. “Loss of income, loss of family members and other contributing factors have negatively affected mental health. In addition to COVID-19, our community also faced four federally declared natural disasters in less than one year. That is a lot of stress …”
Signs and Wonders
December 20, 2018
Karla Wall’s 2002 profile on Lafayette area faith healer Greg Kerr remains by far the article that Lagniappe’s gotten the most feedback on from its readers. We first heard about Kerr when the Acadiana Times ran an article about him. The author, Reese Fuller, talked about how unsettling it was to be in Kerr’s presence and to feel the “power” that Kerr talked about having. When asked to hold his hands up and out, and when Kerr did the same, Fuller said he felt a surge of energy, what Kerr called “the anointing.” We had to talk to him.
When we first talked with Kerr, he was holding his healing services out of his home in Opelousas. At times unsettling, at times comforting, Kerr’s presence was indeed something unique. While there was no healing during that interview, there was no denying there was something extraordinary about Kerr. We got phone calls almost daily for months after the article ran. People talked of seeing him and being healed of afflictions ranging from arthritis to infertility. One woman even told us he’d helped her quit smoking after every other method had failed her.
Nearly two decades later, with a new and larger chapel and much larger services thanks to the publicity the Lagniappe and Acadiana Times articles had generated, Kerr agreed to an update article. While much had changed (Kerr was a bit grayer, but oddly more relaxed and more at peace with his “power”), Kerr talked about his new larger venue, his services and his continued faith.
Bruce Hamilton:
Still The Bird Man Feb. 20, 2020
“Everywhere I go, I’m still the bird man,” Hamilton told Lagniappe when he sat down to discuss the new version of his Pet Playhouse show, which he originally aired on Fox 29 from 1989 to 1999. In February of 2020, Hamilton had just recently digitized and re-aired a few of the original shows on the local CBS affiliate. He said the response was great, but that most people who called wanted the experience of being in the audience.
Hamilton was reunited with his old sidekick, Larry Bird the macaw when local resident Donovan Monceaux, who owned Larry Bird, brought him to the photo shoot.
FLYING ON AN ENGINE
August 1, 2019
In another of Karla Wall’s favorite stories, she profiled Lisa Madden, a local accountant; Cindy Palma, owner of Harlow Lawn Mower Sales; and Pam Wyman, owner of local floral design and gift shop Designs By Pamela.
What do these business owners do to in their precious time off? All are avid motorcycle enthusiasts who own Harley Davidsons.
“There’s just nothing like the sound and feel of a Harley,” Wyman said. The women talked of growing up loving motorcycles and of trips they’ve taken on their bikes (all three have ridden in the famous Sturgis, S.D., motorcycle rally. In fact, they try to go yearly).
December 20, 2007
To try to get a handle on the characteristics of the true biker, Lagniappe interviewed members of three long-standing organized groups of bikers in Southwest Louisiana: Gypsy M.C. (motorcycle club), The Road Barrons and The Tribe.
All three clubs have been around a long time, with Gypsy M.C. tracing its roots to an East Tennessee group founded in 1932; The Road Barrons organizing more than 40 years ago; and the Tribe beginning right here in Lake Charles in 1963, and becoming officially organized in 1972.
The story covered topics familiar to all veteran bikers but mysterious to most of the general public. For example, it was noted that different groups allow different types of bikes, ranging from more open standards to standards that lean strongly toward (or require) American-made bikes with big engines.
Other factors that can differ are the time commitments and duties of new members serving as an apprentice or “prospect.” Depending on the group, prospect time can be anything from a somewhat demanding socialization period to an arduous initiation process.
And of course, different groups follow different sets of rules. In fact, the variance is so wide that the best thing for interested parties to do is probably just to ask a member of the club in question what it has to offer and what it requires of its members. In the groups Lagniappe chose, The Tribe followed what its president, Rev, called “old bike laws.”
Some attributes are shared among clubs. One of these is fierce loyalty toward other members. “Day or night, if you need them, they’ll be there, no questions asked,” said Rooster, president of the Jennings Chapter of Gypsy M.C. International, about the club’s vice president, Spider Monkey, and the sergeant at arms, Big Toe. Easy, of The Road Barrons, said, “If my brother calls and needs my help, I will go 24/7/365.”
Members insist on respect; on being respected. Rule 16 of the Road Barrons reads, “Do not treat or talk to another member in a disrespectful manner.” The Tribe M.C.’s president, Rev, said simply, “I’m used to being respected.” He noted that when Tribe brothers meet, they exchange the greeting, “I love you and respect you.”
Real bikers have an appreciation of the freedom and excitement that come with a riding and biking life. “For me to think of my life without the Tribe … what a bummer!” said Rev. “It’s been a hell of a ride.” Said the Road Barrons’ Easy, “It’s a different way of life. We love it … My Road Barrons’ life … pretty much encompasses my life.”
CHAINSAW ARTIST
DELLA MEREDITH
February 11, 2021
Faced with the devastation left behind by Hurricanes Laura and Delta, some Lake Area homeowners opted to turn the stumps of trees lost to the storms into yard art, hoping to salvage a bit of beauty from the destruction. To do that, they turned to La Porte, Texas, artist Della Meredith, whose specialty is turning stumps and other large chunks of wood into beautiful chainsaw carvings. For Lake Charles residents Rick and Donna Richard, she turned the remains of a big magnolia tree into a delightful depiction of a cottage house, as reported by Karla Wall.
Meredith grew up painting, drawing and sculpting, and she’s taught such traditional art methods in Texas’ Humble and Splendora Independent School districts. She still loves to paint and draw, she told Lagniappe, but it’s wood carving that’s her true calling.
Meredith, who stands all of 5 feet, 2 inches tall, has an arsenal of chainsaws
that she uses to produce her art, but she says her favorites are Echo chainsaws. She discussed safety while using her tools of choice, and outlined the days-long process involved in turning stumps into works of art.
April 5, 2007
Lagniappe explored the “sport” of cockfighting and the state legislature’s latest attempt of several to ban the practice in Louisiana.
The article described a typical cockfight:
“The handlers hold the roosters — which have either razor-sharp knives or icepick-like gaffes attached to their legs with rubber bands — within inches of each other to allow each bird to become enraged at the other for intruding on its territory.
“After allowing the birds a few pecks at each other, the handlers retreat to their corners and release them, and the ‘fun’ begins.
“The roosters fly at each other. In a whirlwind of feathers, with the noise of flapping wings and a cheering crowd as a background, the birds struggle to gain the upper hand. The battle can last for several minutes, with the birds sometimes vomiting and defecating as they’re injured. Finally, one bird manages to sink his gaffe into the other’s breast, or perhaps his head. As the fatally injured bird slowly dies, the victorious rooster is picked up, having lived to fight another day.”
The article also explored the associated illegal activity that sometimes accompanied cockfights, citing a raid by State Police on two cockfighting pits, one in Tickfaw and one in Logansport. Owners of both clubs were charged with gambling, racketeering, money laundering and contributing to the delinquency of a minor. The owners of the Tickfaw pit were also charged with possession of methamphetamine.
Proponents of the sport say it has a long and distinguished history and deep roots in Louisiana culture. The article explored this angle, briefly describing the history of the sport from its ancient Greek and Roman origins to its introduction to the U.S. and its popularity with early U.S. Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Jackson and Lincoln.
The legislature revisited the issue of cockfighting in the summer of 2006, but with a major difference: Louisiana was the only state in the U.S. still allowing the activity. New Mexico, the other long-time holdout, had finally banned the practice. According to some legislators, that made all the difference in 2007’s successful attempt.
Three bills were introduced in the summer 2007 session, two proposing an immediate ban, and one proposing a three-year phase-out. All three sought to close a loophole in the animal cruelty laws that allowed cockfighting participants to escape the fines and penalties for animal cruelty: Fowl were not considered animals at the time the laws were passed.
The legislature voted to ban the sport, effective August, 2008 — a compromise one-year phase-out. The bill was signed into law by Gov. Blanco.
Beth Lundy Cover
January 18, 2001
One of Lagniappe’s most controversial covers came as a response to public reaction to Sheriff Beth Lundy’s handling of a Greenpeace protest about area pollution. Some thought Lundy had dealt with the situation in a manner that was too forceful. Also controversial was Lundy’s decision to sue Greenpeace for her expenses in making the arrests.
On the Lagniappe cover that created the stir, a grinning Lundy appeared to point a rifle at the head of a man lying on the ground next to railroad tracks. The man (a model, of course) was wearing a highly visible Greenpeace T-shirt.
Some felt the cover sent the message that it was appropriate to use violence — and possibly lethal violence — to respond to civil disobedience. Longtime hunters had more practical concerns, noting that the first rule of gun usage is that one should never, under any circumstances, point a gun at another person.
Reaction to the cover was swift and largely negative. Lagniappe publisher Bob Hartnett was interviewed for local television coverage about it. Hartnett noted that the cover was intended as a humorous commentary on current events, and was, of course, not meant to be taken seriously.
In the story that accompanied the cover, Lundy stood by her treatment of Greenpeace protesters, who had chained themselves to a bus parked over railroad tracks. “I think it was poor judgment on their part to go to those types of measures,” said Lundy. “This was very much a safety issue … I’ll say this, it took some intestinal fortitude to do it.”
Cold Case Files
December 1, 2005
“The bizarre is normal for us.”
A journalist isn’t going to get many quotations as striking as that one in the course of his career.
The statement was uttered by Sgt. Pat Greer, a detective working in the Cold Case Homicide Unit of the Lake Charles Police Dept.
Unit Commander Capt. Ronald C. “Candy” Lewis (since deceased) elaborated on Greer’s statement by explaining that after years and years of detailed investigation, the unit had seen plenty of gore and freakiness — enough, in fact, for detectives to become accustomed to it. “After looking at one or two autopsy reports, it all becomes Lagniappe,” said Lewis.
That degree of experience produces detectives with calm and objective heads who make sure that especially brutal one-time murderers aren’t pursued more vigorously than other killers. “We look at each victim’s family the same,” said Lewis.
Since the unit was established by Police Chief Don Dixon in 2002, it had worked exclusively on 29 unsolved murders. Since the detectives worked only on cold cases, they didn’t have the stressors and time constraints of detectives investigating day-to-day crime. They had time to research and become experts on the evidence for a case.
The unit is community-oriented and family-oriented. “Before we begin,” said Lewis, “we meet with the family out of respect … We will keep the family abreast of the progress — and more importantly, the lack of progress.”
Kirkum said that when it comes to putting murderers behind bars, “Nothing takes the place of a good witness.” Lewis backed that up, asserting, “A witness — That’s priority.”
Kirkum made the surprising assertion that “somebody out there knows about every one of these murders.” About some cases, Kirkum was even more emphatic: “I know [the identity of the person who] did it. But I cannot put this person in jail.” Greer agreed, saying that having the knowledge of guilt without having enough evidence to press charges caused him to “lose sleep.”
Anyone who’s spent much time in what we call the real world will know quite well the reasons witnesses don’t come forward. They may fear revenge at the hands of the alleged perpetrator or his friends or family. They may fear for the safety of their own families. They may dislike the idea that they might be considered a snitch.
But there are sometimes incentives for witnesses to come forward (although often long after the fact). Some are wracked by guilt or shame for years. Others just get old and lose the desire to keep the information secret. In these latter cases, of course, there’s always the chance that the perpetrator may die before the witness comes forward.
As for DNA evidence, the members of the group said they “love DNA.” Said Kirkum, “We like it. It’s another tool.” But they made it clear that DNA isn’t the magic cure-all it is in the CSI television shows. Lewis cautioned, “Use DNA, don’t let it use you.” What did he mean? Well, for one thing, he knew what any attorney does: in Lewis’ words: “DNA puts a particular person at a particular place.” And a sharp attorney will argue that’s all it does. When I interviewed the unit, I left DNA all over its offices. But I didn’t commit any crimes there that I know of.
Community awareness, and the peer pressure that results from it, can raise the stress level of suspects. Cold Case can ratchet up the pressure by visiting suspects directly at their places of residence.
“We’ve gotten a lot of people nervous because we’ve knocked on a lot of doors. [If we knock on a suspect’s door,] it won’t be a social call,” said Lewis.
This Lagniappe story received national press attention when Greta Van Susteren covered the story of a 60-day-deadline for detectives on the Aruba murder case on her “On the Record” program. A Washington, D.C., Fox News contributor held up the Lagniappe Cold Case magazine cover during the national broadcast, applauding the unit for using a community-oriented approach to tracking down murderers.
A Life Of Faith
Mother’s Day, 2006
In another Mother’s Day article, this one in 2006, Lagniappe spoke with (then) 109-year-old Laura “Mama” Rubit of Lake Charles. Rubit, born May 17, 1896, in Cankton, La., celebrated her 110th birthday on May 17, 2006, with family.
During the interview, Rubit’s singing voice was mentioned, and after the interview, she acquiesced to a request for an impromptu concert. Rocking slightly in a dining room chair, smiling, eyes closed, Rubit sang an old Mahalia Jackson gospel song — a beautiful song about finding strength in serving God. Her rock-solid faith was evident in her reverent, joyful delivery of the lyrics and the emotion in her full, rich alto voice, still surprisingly strong after nearly 110 years of use.
It’s that faith that has seen her through a life that’s witnessed the dawning of two different centuries, six major wars, Prohibition, the Civil Rights Movement and the Depression. It’s a faith she’s passed down to, at press time in 2006, six children, 12 grandchildren, 16 great-grandchildren and seven great-great grandchildren.
Rubit was born into a large family, one of 10 children. Her mother, a devout Catholic, and her father, a staunch Baptist, agreed to raise their children in the Catholic faith. In 1917, Rubit married “the love of her life,” Oneazifor Rubit. The couple moved to Lake Charles in 1984, shortly before Oneazifor’s death, at the urging of two daughters and a son who lived here.
Still able to get around with the aid of a walker; still able to sing her heart out; Rubit was quick to attribute her long life and relatively good health to “serving Jesus and the Blessed Mother.” She still attended Mass when the article was published, going to the Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic Church in Lake Charles.
Long life seems to be a family trait. Rubit’s father died at 104; her mother passed away at 100. A sibling lived to 103.
Raising her children to be strong in their faith, Rubit told us, was the most important thing she did as a mother. She also said she and her husband strove to set a good example of what a strong and healthy marriage should be.
“My mother’s love for my father, and his for her, impressed all of us as children,” said Sister Charlotte Rubit, one of her daughters. “I never saw my parents have a serious disagreement.”
Sitting before a woman who’d lived nearly 110 years, seen five generations come into the world, been a mother to six children as well as a grandmother and great-grandmother — a woman who’d seen changes most of us can’t imagine — it was impossible not to ask what advice she’d give to today’s young mothers. Her answer was simple, to the point, and as true today as it was 100 years ago.
“Love your husband, and love your children,” Rubit said. “Train them in the way of the Lord, and set a good example.”
It’s a formula that’s worked well for Rubit.
“She’s a wonderful mother,” says Sister Charlotte. “She always has been. She was always there for us — spiritually, emotionally and physically. We can never give back what she’s given us.”
On-air television personalities become like old friends to regular viewers after a year or two on the air. And, since KPLC has been on the air in SWLA since the 1950s, there are numerous anchors, reporters, sportscasters and meteorologists who have come into the lives of SWLA residents, become a familiar part of each day’s routine, and then moved on.
Lagniappe decided to catch up with some of those familiar faces to fill readers in on where they’d gone and what they were doing after leaving KPLC. Some were with the station in its earliest days; some were popular during the 1980s and early ‘90s. And all were glad to reminisce about their days in SWLA and at KPLC.
We talked with Sam Tarleton, who’d been responsible for “just about everything in the field of sports” at the station during the ‘50s. He was host of the Jax World of Sports Show every evening. Tarleton told Lagniappe that the best part of his time at KPLC was interviewing sports figures and getting to know them. He once, he told us, had an opportunity to interview Alvin Dark of the Boston Red Sox.
Tarleton left KPLC in 1961. He served on the City Council and worked at the Lake Charles American Press until retiring at the age of 65.
We also talked with Gary Tyler, who had been at the station for more than 20 years, from the early ‘60s to the early ‘80s. He covered the Rideaux case as it broke in 1961, as well as Hurricane Carla in 1962.
He left the station briefly to run for congress — in 1964 against T.A. Thompson, and again in 1965 against a young politician named Edwin Edwards. He didn’t win either election, but he told us he had “come very close.”
At the time the article was published, he was living in Dallas and enjoying charity work.
Jeb Roberts, popular host of the afternoon children’s show Kartoon Kapers from 1959-1964, talked fondly of her days at KPLC, saying she especially enjoyed working with the children, and chuckling about the surprises encountered in doing a live television show with children involved. At the time the article was published, Roberts owned Louisiana Marketing and Design in Lake Charles.
Ray Valdetaro also recounted his days at KPLC. Starting out as sports director in 1967, he became news director in 1973. He returned to the sports department in late 1973, and finished his career at KPLC in October, 1996, in the sales department. Still residing in Lake Charles when the article was published, Valdetero was still active in Our Lady Queen of Heaven Catholic Church and volunteered at local charitable organizations, such as Abraham’s Tent.
We also talked with on-air personalities from the more recent past, including Jan Hardy, who had anchored the noon and 5 pm news shows for KPLC from 1983-1990, and who was working for a pharmaceutical company in Houston; Butch Alsandor, a sportscaster during the early 1980s who was working as a sportscaster in Houston; Robin Roberts, who anchored KPLC’s morning show from 1991-92 and was anchoring the morning show at KTBS, an ABC affiliate in Shreveport; Bill Taylor, who co-hosted the station’s morning show with Roberts and also did weekend weather, and was handling the weekend weather reports and co-hosting a daily magazine show in San Antonio; Allen Tumey, who served in numerous roles at KPLC, including weather forecasts and a travel series, and who at the time was working at WFIE in Evansville, Ind.; and Mark Scirto, who was lead meteorologist at KPLC during the early 1990s and who was handling the weather forecasts for KLTZ in Tyler, Texas.
September 1, 1999
One unique facet of Southwest Louisiana is the singular importance it attaches to the position of parish sheriff. While a forthright, plain-spoken politician is not a unique phenomenon, it is a rare one. Such a rare personality was revealed when Lagniappe interviewed then-Sheriff Wayne McElveen for its Sept. 1, 1999 issue.
McElveen spoke with a refreshing frankness about the controversies that arose during his administration. One of these was the debate about McElveen’s borrowing of $15 million through state bond issues to build the 600-bed Calcasieu Sheriff’s Prison, which opened in 1997. Said McElveen, “The police jury is responsible for building jails, but they don’t want to pay for them. And the public doesn’t want to pay for more jails either. But the public does want to get habitual criminals off the street.”
McElveen made the choice of accepting the loan in exchange for housing 200 federal inmates in the jail. “The new facility … created 400 more spots for your local, hard-core criminals … ” said McElveen. “People who do understand it praise me for that.”
Another major controversy centered around the persistent rumor that one of McElveen’s sons was involved with the KK’s Corner murders. “Let me put it to you this way,” said the sheriff, “I have three sons. Within a week [of the murders], they’d accused one or more of my sons of committing a murder … [We] had [rumors] all over this parish. …
“You have to understand something: I have 700 full-time employees. Are they all corrupt? Surely they would go to [other] authorities if they had some critical information. … There’ve been five grand juries [convened over the murders]. Are the grand juries all crooked?”
McElveen addressed concerns of some that he had taken too gruff a tone in press conferences about the crimes. “I do come across a little rough … I’m an ex-Marine, a former football player.”
When all was said and done, the article showed a career politician who was surprisingly direct, precise and articulate about exactly what he had done in office.
Former McNeese professor John Wood is best known for his many volumes of poetry and essays on photography. At McNeese, he carved out a legacy by establishing the school’s nationally known MFA program for writers.
Lagniappe’s Sherri Cohen Darbonne discovered an unusual aspect of the writer that only his close friends knew about — his passion for collecting bizarre antique medical equipment. Darbonne described his large collection, which was made up of “neat wooden boxes of oddly shaped glass tubes and bizarre machines reminiscent of the fantasy contraptions in old science fiction movies.”
In particular, Wood collected “various electrodes that were used by electric therapy adherents at the turn of the century to treat everything from acne and anemia to whooping cough and wrinkles.” The equipment can still be used today. It gives the subject a mild electric tingling in his scalp. “This was very widely believed in and taken seriously until the end of the 1920s,” said Wood.
Asked for the reason for his collection, Wood said, “It’s because it was so weird. These things just look so crazy.”
Wood also collected old books associated with the kooky instruments, such as Dr. Noble Eberhart’s Working Manual of High Frequency Currents.
Suspicious Fines
May 15, 1988
Brett Reeves used lighthearted, and rather stereotyped, prose to describe the issuing of speeding tickets in small Louisiana towns by law enforcement agents.
“You’re passing through a rural community on your way to a business meeting, or just sight-seeing on a much-needed vacation. The wind plays in the oak trees and Elvis is crooning on the radio: ‘Caught in a trap. I can’t walk out … ‘
“Seemingly out of nowhere, whirling red lights flash in your rear view mirror. You pull over and control your panic as a huge officer walks toward the car window.
“Officer, was I breaking the law?”
“Now, it’s funny you should ask that,” the officer replies, with what might be a grin. “The last city boy that come flyin’ through here asked the same question …”
Reeves’ story — “McLeod and Cain Sing ‘Suspicious Fines’” — anticipated by several years a Dateline story about allegations of a possible conflict of interest in the relationship between area law enforcement agencies’ operating budgets and their income from fines and forfeitures.
The story followed up on separate bills filed by two state senators in the 1988 session of the Louisiana legislature to limit the amount of revenues municipalities could generate from such fines.
At the time the bills were introduced, much of the controversy surrounded the small village of Woodworth in central Louisiana, which derived nearly three-fourths of its budget from enforcement revenues, and which, according to Reeves, had reached the status of “a travelers’ no man’s land.”
EIght Decades Of
Local Life
March 5 and March 19, 1997
In a 1997 two-part series on long- time Lake Charles resident Harper Clark, Scott Raymond related the octogenarian’s account of the city from the Roaring ‘20s all the way up to the Lake Charles of the ‘90s. During his early decades, Clark saw the development of Lake Charles from its timber and agricultural roots to the days of its industrial might. Clark went from a small boy who rode the street cars, to a broadcaster for KPLC Radio, to a young wartime naval officer.
Next, Raymond depicted Clark as a mature adult, eager to contribute to the city with his vast communications knowledge and expertise. Clark was a driving factor in preserving the city’s downtown area.
In the ‘70s, Clark was at one time the president of the Lake Charles Theater. The ‘70s, as Clark remembered them, was a time of artistic and economic prosperity for the city. This was due in large part to the fact that oil was booming.
While things were good in the ‘70s, Clark also spoke of the recession and hard times that hit the Lake Area in the ‘80s, and the signs of regrowth that were beginning to be seen during the administration of Willie Mount.
What was Clark’s vision for the Lake Area in 1997? “I think that you are going to find that the business and industry of the area are going to increase because of diversification. One of our faults in the past is that we’ve attached our growth to one thing. First it was the timber industry, then the agricultural industry, then the petrochemical industry. And at one time, we hung our hat on military.
“I think we started to realize with the Chennault Industrial Airpark that we have to look out for things that we can do to bring different activity to the area. I was talking with one plant manager the other day about some of the things that they produce. They produce the raw products for materials that are manufactured elsewhere. And I said, ‘Why aren’t they doing it here?’ And he said, ‘That’s something that we wonder about, too.’”
Clark died in June, 2001.
Cuban Opportunity
October 18, 1995
James Ingram of Lake Charles returned home from a trip to Cuba in September of 1995 with a mixed report for Louisiana companies. Ingram said that the island nation held great promise for such prominent state businesses as rice, chemicals and sugar. But executives from other states appeared (to Ingram) to have gotten a leg up by establishing relationships with Cuban officials.
At that time, few from Louisiana had visited the nation, he said. Ingram was the owner of Rio Rosa, a newly formed trade consulting company.
Makul Venna reported on Ingram’s trip in an exclusive story in which she explained the way in which improved trade relations with Cuba could help Louisiana businessmen and farmers.
James Ingram knew opportunity when he saw it. With rumors circulating in 1995 that the then-33-year-old trade embargo with Cuba would be lifted, Ingram knew Louisiana should be ready to jump at its chance.
As key producers of petroleum, food and chemicals, all of which Cuba needed, Louisiana had the potential to benefit immensely from the end of the embargo. In fact, history was in Louisiana’s favor; before the 1963 embargo, Cuba had taken more than half of Louisiana’s rice exports.
If the embargo were to be dissolved, Ingram was ready to act. It was his desire and hope that the rest of the state would be, too. That, Verma argued, would only be accomplished by building better relations with Cuban officials and governments.
In subsequent years, port officials visited Cuba on a regular basis. Several large shipments of grain and other items were sent from the Port of Lake Charles to Cuba, as portions of the embargo were rescinded.
Kurth On The Run-off From Hell Several 1990 issues
Louisiana is no stranger to larger-than-life, ultra-controversial political figures. There are, of course, Huey P. Long and his brother, Earl K Long. And Edwin Edwards will forever warrant a page or two in Louisiana history books.
But even with these colorful characters in the historical background, it could be argued that no politician has stirred up more controversy, spurred more arguments or solicited more national attention for the state than David Duke.
Duke’s bid for the governor’s post in 1990, and the fact that Duke drew enough support to force a run-off with Edwin Edwards, was Lagniappe columnist Michael Kurth’s favorite topic for months. In each issue, it seemed, Kurth had some new analysis to share on Duke, the white supremacist’s political philosophy and what Kurth termed “the run-off from Hell.”
Kurth used economic reasoning and figures to explain what Duke’s problem with the welfare program was and why Duke’s position did not reflect economic realities and was tainted by his views on race. Kurth also looked into Duke’s claims that he had seen dangerous duty during the Vietnam War. Kurth dug a bit and found some pretty interesting facts behind those claims. For instance, Duke claimed to have served in Laos during the war. Kurth pointed out, however, that a biographer of Duke and some of his fellow servicemen claimed that Duke had a plum assignment teaching English at a school in Laos’ capitol and that any assertion Duke may have made regarding dangerous duty was purely false.
Kurth also devoted quite a bit of his column’s space to the run-off race. Kurth called for an end to the open primary system, in which all registered voters can vote for any candidate in a primary regardless of the voter’s party affiliation. The state’s primary system, he claimed, was one of the main reasons Duke reached the run-offs. Duke was able to siphon off enough of the Democratic vote to get into the run-off, Kurth argued.
Kurth also reasoned that Duke as governor would not have the impact that the anti-Duke forces claimed he would. He pointed to Georgia’s situation almost 30 years ago, when Lester Maddox was governor of the state. Maddox’s racial views and tactics, Kurth said, had no impact on Georgia’s economy or growth, due to the fact that Georgia had a strong legislature that worked independently of Maddox. “Over the next four years,” Kurth wrote, “our economy will depend much more on what happens in the Legislature than on who occupies the governor’s mansion.”
Kurth also predicted that Duke would take his style of politics and his racist philosophy into the national arena, where it would play as well as it had in Louisiana. (Kurth proved to be wrong on the second half of the prediction.)
“America will discover that his polished image and racial code words play as well in the suburbs of New York, Detroit, Chicago and Los Angeles as they do down in Bayouland,” he wrote. “Duke is not just Louisiana’s problem. He is a national problem.” As it turned out, Duke’s presidential bid did garnish some national support. But the final results of the campaign were dismal.
In one column, Kurth summed up his views on Duke and his politics. In this column, he described his son’s explanation of “Dukin’,” a term some of the son’s friends applied to the act of picking on their black school mates. After expounding on Duke’s particular brand of racism, Kurth ended the column as follows:
“On a more fundamental level, Duke is attempting to redefine the American political spectrum. Just as Hitler’s Nazis destroyed the conservative parties in Germany to gain political power, Duke understands that conservatives are the first obstacle blocking a racialist march to power in America. Once the conservatives are eliminated, the electorate can be polarized into racialists and liberals. In Louisiana, that is already happening. The campaign of conservative Republican Ben Bagert (in the 1990 gubernatorial race) has collapsed, and there is no longer a middle ground.”
Mayors’ Conference
June 1, 1988
When the Roemer Revolution began resculpting the face of the state’s government in 1988, residents of local municipalities felt they faced an uncertain future. Some innovative ideas were being considered; but even if the ideas proved best in the long run, the transition promised to be rough.
In June, 1988, Lagniappe took the initiative to host a mayors’ conference to get the mayors of area towns together to address their concerns over fiscal reforms and other issues relating to the towns they served.
Attending the function were then-mayors Ed Watson of Lake Charles, Gerard Johnson of DeRidder, Fred Ashy of Kinder, Dudley Dixon of Westlake and Lawrence Toups of Iowa.
The event helped foster an open relationship between the area leaders. “We have a good working relationship,” said Dixon. “When we met in 1988, we tried to cover everything that would affect us on a collective basis.”
At a time when the future of the area seemed shaky, transportation and financial issues were especially pressing topics. “We’re talking about highway systems …” said Watson. “Which way do they all go? They’re going east and west! What I’m saying is we better get off our duffs and do some thinking … Somebody better think about what the hell’s going on in this state and what’s going to happen to us if we don’t use good sense.” As readers will know, in the 15 years since, some road and infrastructure projects have come to fruition in this area, while others have fallen through. The sort of streamlined, all-inclusive transportation system Watson envisioned remained elusive.
Mayors faced other hard-pressing issues in 1988, including the prospect of increasing sales taxes, federal and state revenue sharing, and ways of attracting new business and community growth.
“By getting together, we were able to get our priorities straight,” said Dixon. Ten years later, the mayors of the cities were still using the same kind of meeting to address issues of local concern.
The Mayors’ Conference was the first of many roundtable discussions hosted and reported by Lagniappe over the years. Other roundtables have focused on health, insurance and banking.
Roundtable discussions on various topics are still included in Lagniappe at least once a year.
August 26, 2021
Madelaine B. Landry reported on bush track, a generic term used in horse racing to describe unsanctioned, informal horse races run in rural areas of the United States. Quarter horses, ridden by amateur jockeys, are raced on makeshift tracks, often set up in the field where the horses are pastured. Race times are never kept and the track length is never uniform.
With the names and places of local tracks indelibly stamped on the sore buttocks of famed jockeys like Calvin “Boo Boo” Borel, a three-time Derby champion, these places held a magical attraction and became the stuff of local legends. Places like Broussard Bar, Acadiana Downs, Cajun Downs, Derby Downs, Linzey Downs and Carencro Raceway are as much a part of Louisiana’s cultural gumbo as the food, music and festivals.
Aging jockeys like Kerwin Clark do worry, however, about the next generation of riders who he says “eat too much, sit all day in front of Nintendo screens, and don’t even wanna think about cleaning out a stable.” Who’s going to take their places? How will they get to know their horses and their quirks? “Once you done cleaned a hundred stables,” says Clark, “then you really know a horse.”
The Journey Does
Not End Here
December 8, 2022
Exploring cemeteries for pleasure sounds like a dubious form of entertainment for many, but the history contained within their gates makes cemeteries a living museum. This article starts with a young man’s discovery of a solo tombstone found in a SWLA field which sparks a discussion decades later about burial practices, epidemics and Civil War history.
Why was Amanda Kent buried in a field and then later moved to a local cemetery? Who was she? Who was her family and how did they get here from the midwest? How were victims of various diseases treated through the past few centuries? This article set out to explore this and many other questions that arose from the research into one solitary tombstone.
Visits to cemeteries allow us to view the passage of time, especially as it exists in this cultural milieu that we call Louisiana. From the simple granite markers with faded wording, to the massive concrete vaults in New Orleans, to the last of the little houses covering graves at the Istre Cemetery in Mermentau, we are curious. We yearn to study the religious, social, and economic clues that can be discovered in these sacred places.
Gatorgate
June 16, 1986
“Sometimes it’s over and we just don’t want to face reality … You look in those big green eyes. You think back over all those years together …
“I know it is hard to do, but someone has to speak out. Its not like I am knocking Mama on Mother’s Day, or burning the flag on the Fourth of July. It’s just that … (gulp) …. Gumbeaux, ya gotta go!”
Such was the opinion of writer Bill Dixon in a June 15, 1986, Lagniappe column. When Dixon stated that Southwest Louisiana might be ready to end its love affair with the local tourist bureau’s grinnin’ green mascot — Gumbeaux Gator — he opened up a can of worms. It turned out it was Dixon himself who ultimately became gator bait.
Dixon’s commentary was intended to suggest the use of more realistic and aesthetic images for the area, specifically, photographs and artwork depicting the area’s natural beauty in brochures and other tourism marketing efforts. His angle, however, was received by some as an unjust attack on a cuddly, lovable guy in a gator suit.
In a subsequent issue, Gumbeaux Gator retaliated in a letter touting his years of service as the Lake Area’s “goodwill ambassador,” his countless appearances at various festivals and events and his popularity with the short set. “I surveyed some of my younger friends in the area, and three to one said, ‘Bill, ya gotta go!’” wrote Gumbeaux.
The humorous feature won an award in the Louisiana Sportswriters Association and was lampooned at the Lake Charles Ad and Press Club’s Gridiron Club.
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