Red Stick and Oysters

 Leaving New Orleans in the morning allowed us one more sample of local food. Driving around to find the breakfast place exposed us to the tiny crowded streets of Bywater. We almost decided to stop our trip and hang out here - surely there was a bookstore, a coffee shop, a corner bar, and front porch we could just sit and fan ourselves on. Frady's One-Stop is an example of an unpretentious local establishment and mixed in well with the Bohemian nature of the area. Erin and I did decide that the next trip we were just going to come to New Orleans and do nothing.

Our day was to end in St. Francisville, halfway up Louisiana, and to get there we would have to go through Baton Rouge ("red stick"), and specifically the downtown. I had been downtown a couple of times in the last few decades and was not looking forward to its grim, 1950s vibe. But we had some places to go in order to fill in a few holes in the family history, and they were in the capital city.

I had done some cursory research about Baton Rouge. For me, that means looking at lots of maps. It was clear by comparing historical maps and then Google Street View - the greatest invention in travel since the overnight bag - that much of what had been in Baton Rouge was still in Baton Rouge. One constant in American history has been that when a town has been passed by development and booming industry (whether it be tourist, retail, or industrial) most of what was there once never goes away. It just gets forgotten. While Baton Rouge is the capital and does have that Exxon plant, it has grown slowly and seen its downtown emptied out. So what we were looking for was bound to still be there. (We had a lovely lunch with every member of Erin's extended Baton Rouge family. Crawfish are a requirement when we visit and we crawfished with the best of them!)

One key stop was the "Rex House" on Royal Street. Erin's great-grandfather, Frank Rex, owned this home and left his mark on the name. Erin had somehow found out that the house was being renovated, had reached out to the Houston-area couple doing the work, and had arranged for a tour of this home. The home is in an area known as Beauregard Town - laid out in 1806 and with many of the original homes intact. It is about five blocks from the heart of downtown. In any prosperous town, these homes would be renovated to within an inch of their lives. But here, in Baton Rouge, they were cleaned up but some clearly not loved very much. It was a small town feeling in the shadow of mid-range high-rises and government offices.

We met the couple on the porch, exchanged pleasantries, then received a tour of the place. It had been over 100 years since the Rex's had occupied the house. There was little left of their imprint, but it is always fun to see the insides of houses when they are gutted. I took many many many pictures, but only share two here (above) so you can see that it was pretty, is still pretty, but there is a lot to do on the innards of the place. The house was a few blocks south of our next stop in the downtown, so we had a sense of the grocer Rex kissing his wife farewell, putting on his grocer's apron, and walking to his shop on North Boulevard.

The grocery store itself still stands but serves primarily oysters and booze these days as the Jolie Pearl. We found the building through a combination of city records and photographs and persistence. Our palpable excitement was met with indifferent shoulder-shrugging once inside. We breathlessly told the server that yes, this was Erin's great-grandfather's grocery store. She asked us if we wanted a table and to order oysters. But, we said, this was his place, where he worked! Isn't that cool? She wandered away to serve less eager customers. Photos of the inside and outside later, we left, undaunted by her reserve.

After walking around a rejuvenating Baton Rouge (we decided that we would have to come back next year with at least a little time in the city) and identifying former family establishments by the parking lots that covered their souls, we headed for the famous Magnolia Cemetery. This is apparently a big deal in Baton Rouge - so much so that there was an actual battle fought on the grounds during the Civil War. I noticed at the entrance that we a) were not allowed to bury anyone here without notice (hadn't thought of doing that) and b) we couldn't stack the vaults. Both of these are practices I am unfamiliar with. We weren't sure who we would find here, so we attached the Cemetery in quadrants. This 10-acre piece of ground has a lot of quadrants. Erin walked all of them. We found the former grocer and family and a few others of note.



Here is Erin  capturing what has to be the opposite of a selfie on the left. In the photo on the right is something I noticed that concerned me: either someone escaped from this vault or someone else is trying to get in. Either circumstance is not one I want to be involved with. After paying our respects - such as not standing on any vaults and taking photos - we headed north for our last stop of the day.

 But wait! Just before we hit what passes for a highway north out of town we saw the street on which Erin's father lived as a boy - right off the road! We returned to the place, and found a lovely mid-20th Century home clearly fixed up. Erin had a wonderful encounter with three local folks sitting on chairs out front, who once it was determined that we were not real estate agents or unsavory individuals, were given a name to use ("Robert D. Jones") if we were ever in the neighborhood and in some trouble. Just saying his name like an incantation would protect us from any dangers that might befall us. Protected as such, photos in hand, we headed up to St. Francisville, wherein most of our research would be conducted and the bulk of our days would be spent.

This is a picture of the inn we stayed at. Best feature was the provision of all that we would need for creating cocktails, right there in our room, and based on our personal preferences. It was going to be a good five nights!