Signage

A few months ago I was at Ricca’s looking for spare wood to make frames out of when I spotted a sign hanging from the rafters. It was in a corner of the store, high up, with scrap wood surrounding it. I asked to climb up to the rafters to get a better look but the staff would not let me. However, they did go up and measure it for me. I wrote down the measurements and then asked the owners for a price. They told me that the sign had been there since their grandfather opened the store in the 1950s. After some hmmming and hawing they gave me a price. A reasonable price. Trying to curb my natural impulses of immediate reaction, I went home and thought about it for a few days – and measured. And researched.

High up in the rafters

After just a little research (more to come, I plan on combing through some City Directories next time I hit the library) I discovered that the original hand-painted sign was from a 1930s New Orleans saddlery and harness store owned by a William J. Nunez, Jr. That pretty much sold me but the cincher was that it fit PERFECTLY on my kitchen wall.

My friend John went to pick it up for me in his SUV; they said it wasn’t heavy but there was no way it would fit in my compact car. Once he went back, the owner decided that he did not want to sell it – the sign had been hanging in their store moderately clandestine for some sixty-odd years. But John persevered, and soon the sign was in the back of his car and even sooner in my living room. It stayed on the floor for awhile until I was able to actual move it into place (had to move another piece).

Home... now how to hang?

The sign itself was wood, painted on both sides, and with metal brackets bolted to the edges. How to hang?

Django poses with old painting (before new countertops)

On Easter weekend I had some friends stay with me. I had a huge paper due and was pretty much invisible the entire time, except for a brief appearance on Sunday afternoon to watch the parade in the French Quarter and attend an Easter party. I was discussing the difficulties of hanging the sign with my friend Mike who was staying with me when he came up with the idea of hanging it from a curtain rod – like I had done with one of my other paintings. Perfect!

Ta-Da! It's new home! Ignore dishes on counter

Mike and Glenn hung it for me, needing two brackets for the weight, and within a short time, my new sign hung on my kitchen wall – it is now the first thing one sees when they come into my house and it sets a completely different tone (much more serene than what was there before). Yes, it is slightly ironic since I am not a fan of horses, but I am always a fan of owning a piece of history. And yes, it will be left in my will to my good friend and horse rider extraordinaire Danan.

Now, to one day write about my vintage chalkboard from the old uptown NOCCA, my antique bingo machine, my retro vacuum cleaner and my chairs from the old Saenger Theater. One step at a time… And I still need to find a new couch!

 

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My YouTube

I have a YouTube channel. Yes, it is true.

Click HERE to see videos of my lecture, Slack Adjustor,  Bernadette Shakey, the Tomatoes, and the Valparaiso Men’s Chorus.

Some good, some so-so. More to come. Slices of consequence.

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Mascot Mondays 2 of 12: Bicycles!

Okay, I am in a hotel bar in Chicago. I slept five hours two nights ago, and four hours on a train last night. Spent about 8 hours hanging around Chicago today. I am on the brink of exhaustion and must start my photography conference tomorrow at 6AM!! The next day we start at 4:30AM – so no partying with Chicago Rollergirls tomorrow night. Hopefully Wednesday night. More to come on the Chicago trip later…

So I will keep this short. And it is kind of a cheat since it was read at my lecture, and I have done silk screens of this image for my art for years. But I am determined to see Mascot Mondays through…

This post is dedicated to the UNO graduate student I met at my lecture who reads my blog and is working on an article/book about the history of bicylces in New Orleans. (I am sorry I forgot your name – and thank you for coming to lecture. Please stay in touch). I assume you have read “A City on Wheels: The Bicycle Era in New Orleans,” by Dale Sommers. Also, if you email me, I will send you any bicycle-related articles from the Mascot.

So here is today’s Mascot Mondays entry…

July 27, 1889

A certain well known society leader creates a sensation nearly every evening on St. Charles Ave. She is a good looker, stylish, of good family and so on, but is inclined to be mannish. She can ride a tricycle, but that style of locomotion is too slow and even for her, so she has secured herself a bicycle, on which she appears, and certainly creates a sensation, especially when there is a breeze that displays a tendency to play sad havoc with the folds of her drapery. Everybody knows her, so that it is hardly necessary to mention her name.

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Mascot Mondays

For the summer months, I am starting a new weekly blog: Mascot Mondays. Every Monday during the summer (at least until school starts) I will share an article from the Mascot. Yeah, I know today is Wednesday, so you can say I am either late for this week or early for next.

This week’s article is from November 15, 1890. Like the previous article I posted, “The Plague of Prostitutes,” this article is fairly revolutionary. As I mentioned in a previous blog, The Mascot has been credited as being the first local paper to advocate a regulated district for prostitution. Similarly, today’s article is considered one of the first to report on jazz, or at least, the very early roots of New Orleans-style jazz. Not that it is complimentary, but in taking a break from its reporting on political activity to report on musical happenings, the Mascot does offer engaging insight on jazz’s emerging popularity (or its growing nuisance). The article also includes, according to Al Rose’s “Storyville, New Orleans,” the earliest known illustration of jazz.

The article features two prominent New Orleans characters of the day, Eugene Robinson and Edgar Farrar.  Robinson’s “Eugene Robinson’s Museum and Theater” was on Canal Street (#126, I believe). He also owned some other “attractions” on a riverboat, which supposedly a young Louis Armstrong performed on.

Robinson's Museum Barge

Edgar Farrar was a lawyer and political activist. He was chairman of a committee to reform the municipal government of New Orleans, and assisted in modernizing the sewer and water systems of New Orleans.  He was also selected by Paul Tulane to be one of the first trustees of the fund set up to establish Tulane University.

Another great article to read regarding this topic that draws heavily from this article is “For Godsake Stop!”: Improvised Music in the streets of New Orleans, ca. 1890 by Vincent J. Panetta.

Oh, if we only knew then what we know now. How wonderful would it have been to hear this “racket” and know you were witnessing something that would alter music forever?

 

The "Mascot;" November 15, 1890

ROBINSON’S BAND PLAYS ANYTHING

 Ah, ye Gods! Is There No Relief for The Afflicted?

In the language of a real poet, “tis a burning tale of woe.” We have passed through a long, fly summer; we have sniffed the effluvia from the variegated scum that shone so brightly under the gentle summer sun from the street gutters. We have passed through a Congressional election and nary a calamity have we struck or have we been struck by, but after all these experiences and safe delivery we have at last been visited by a sad affliction. Oh, listen Mr. Robinson, to our tale of woe. Several “coons” armed with pieces of brass have handed together for what personal good we are unable to say, except that it be for two dollars a week and glue, but we are able to swear that if their object was to inflict torture upon this suffering community and everything else in it, they are doing right well in their particular line. If that band of wind-jammers have started out on a crusade against sinners – brother and sisters let us pray. Out time here is uncertain and if the enemy persues [pursues] us we must perish. No visitation yet on earth could compare with the awful affliction which now rests upon us. A man amongst us and that man’s name is Eugene Robinson. From whence he came no one knows, but in the language of the scriptures he got here all in a heap. This man Robinson is not old man Crusoe Robinson, but another Robinson. He came here with a monkey and a blue parrot as his companions and he remained quiet. The town knew him not, but a nigger brass band betrayed him and as many as know him now call him bad names.

The mafia seems to remain quiet on this subject and the suffering goes on. Horses fall in the streets, street-car mules moan in agony,  drivers faint, stores close until the hurricane calms, the greatest minds in the city go wrong. Oh where, oh where, is Edgar Farrar and his little committee? That band has completely dazed the population. That band has completely dazed the population. It would make Rube Burrows throw up both hands. That band placed at the head of the Limerick Guards playing Annie Laurie could free Ireland. It has stopped street walking and shopping. It keeps men home at night and no man will trust himself on Canal street with “a bit too much” for fear he might get ‘em. The band is always there and it is always playing. The band never eats. Robinson does not believe in a dinner hour. They must live on the public woe. They seem to be living, too, for they continue to put it on as thick as ever. We often wish that we were little fishes, that we could live under the water as well as on the earth. It would be no use to be a little bird because the vibration would take the feathers off of us. This is all we have to say about that infernal band.

We will now visit the museum. There we see a trough filled with water and several miniature steamboats floating about. We then visit the grand art gallery where we see clippings from the pictorial weeklies. There is also to be seen on this floor the same blue parrot and monkey that accompanied Robinson and a real cow. This ends the museum and as one passes out he wonders why he did not go down to a Chartres street bird store when he museumically inclined. The smallest bird store in town is a far better museum than is Robinson’s. Robinson is certainly a man of great nerve to open such a place and call it a museum, to say nothing of that band. Our artist presents on the first page to-day an illustration of the effects of that band and the attention of the reader is called to it. Look the picture over carefully and you will be convinced that Robinson’s balcony serenade is enough to make the dead rise from the graves and take to the woods. It will surely happen that if that band continues many a widow will find her husband missing when she visits him next All Saint’s day. It will be no use to keep anybody’s grave green because its dollars to doughnuts that that the corpse will leave town at night. Oh, Robinson, weaken please. 

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Happenings in New Orleans

I am blessed to have many wonderfully creative friends. And a lot of them have events this weekend!

On Friday, June 1st, Kathryn Hobgood Ray aka Trixie la Femme aka Bernadette Shakey is performing the songs of Neil Young at the Neutral Ground on 5110 Danneel Street. 7pm.

Bernadette Shakey

On Saturday, June 2nd, you can catch me and my art at the Freret Market from 12pm to 5pm at the corner of Napoleon and Freret Street. My good friend Andrew Ward is emcee and they have musical guests Washboard Chaz at noon (one of my favorites), Billy Iuso at 1:45, and Los Poboycitos (they will also being playing the El Txupinazo before the bull run) at 3:30. It’s the last market until September!

Quick shower, then…  Christy Wood curated the new show “Man, Myth, Monster” at Le Mieux. The opening runs from 6pm to 8pm at 332 Julia Street.

From the Man, Myth, and Monster Show

Find someplace to eat…

Then off to uptown where Scott Frilot and his band Slack Adjustor celebrate the Return of Rock at Carrollton Station at 10pm on 8140 Willow Street.

Slack Adjustor!

On Sunday, June 3rd, I hop on a train to Chicago but…  My friends Trixie Minx and Bella Blue of Fleur de Tease Burlesque perform their Season Finale at One Eyed Jacks, 615 Toulouse St.  Two shows: one at 8pm and one at 10pm. Tickets are $15 in advance and $20 for a reserved table (I vote table….I did it once and now I can never go back to regular!).

Fleur de Tease Cast

ENJOY! Have a great weekend!!!

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Summer Resolutions

I am a huge proponent of resolutions and lists. I write up yearly goals every year and check them frequently. Right now I have some specific things I would like to accomplish this summer – mainly art, research, writing, house maintenance, good times…  Things are a bit slower at work and I am out of school, so it’s the perfect time to gear up in other areas.  I decided to document two of my goals for 12 weeks. I will read one book a week, and cook one new thing a week (this could include something I have not cooked in years). So here goes.

Let the literary and culinary adventure begin!

 

Not getting tan lines on my feet should be another resolution!

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Pow! Pow!

Not being a big TV watcher, I am actually excited about the upcoming “mini-series” on the History Channel, The Hatfields and McCoys.

 

 

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A Plague of Prostitutes

Some scholars have written that the “Mascot” was the first newspaper to suggest a legalized area for prostitution. While I have not been able to completely verify this (that would require checking all of the other newspapers), this is the article that scholars are referring to. The “Mascot” suggests that having a district devoted entirely to prostitution would be useful not only because sex, like gambling, is an evil that can not be cured, but also because it would cut down on disease, stabilize the housing market, and save many women from careers as “fallen women,” since having to register as a prostitute would ultimately shame them. This was published roughly six years before Storyville began.

A PLAGUE OF PROSTITUTES

 Who Should be Congregated and Licensed

 The last grand jury in its report, recommended that gambling houses should be licensed, basing their recommendation upon the well-known fact that gambling can not be suppressed. Their action is by no means an endorsement of the speculative vice, the evil effect of which they clearly recognize. On the contrary, the deprecate the spread of the evil and only suggest licensing as a means of curtailing it. Gambling is an offence against the law of the State; consequently the municipal authorities are unable, by ordinance or otherwise, to legalize or license it. The administration of Mayor Guillotte cut the Gordian knot by collecting from the respectable gamblers a monthly levy, the proceeds of which were devoted to building the Shakspeare almshouse. By this means gambling was confined to the places of those who paid their assessment, for those who did not were promptly punished. The recognized ones aided the police in detecting irregular gamesters, so the system worked well.

However, the Mayor though working for the good of the city, was himself incurring serious risk by his action, which could have resulted in his impeachment had thirty tax-payers been so minded. So the system fell into disuse, partly owning to the clamor of some fanatics. The abandonment of the assessment system, and the consequent prosecution of the gamblers, caused many of those who conducted honest establishments to leave for pastures new, but for every one who departed, a dozen sprung up in his place. Nearly every corner doggery started a game, which an occasional present of a few dollars to the policeman on the beat secured from molestation. The latter state was worse and is now worse than the first. Instead of the gambling houses being isolated and curtailed, they have been allowed to spread all over the city. In consequence, every boy and young man is exposed to temptation, to become a gambler and be cheated at the same time. These facts the grand jury recognized and consequently recommended a licensing system.

While dealing with the question, however, they would have done well to consider another evil which is far greater, more widespread and more detrimental to the community, the social evil which afflicts New Orleans as it afflicts all large cities. Like gambling, it is ineradicable, yet – if handled properly- it can be curtailed. Against houses of ill-fame, as such, the MASCOT makes no crusade so long as they are conducted in a decorous manner and are not located in respectable neighborhoods, for they are a necessary evil. The subject is a delicate one to handle, but it must be admitted that such places are useful in ministering to the passions of men who otherwise would be tempted to seduce the young ladies of their acquaintance. But, whatever good they may unconsciously effect thus by their existence, would be more than offset were they allowed to flourish in any and every part of the city. It is a notorious fact, well-known to the police, that of late such establishments have sprung up in many neighborhoods hitherto free from them, thus obtruding the evil under the eyes of growing girls of respectable family.

Besides, under the present system, a great number of the demi-monde are diseased, yet ply their trade just the same. The consequence is that growing boys and young men contract contagious diseases of a nature which can be suppressed, but which remain in the blood. That this is true can be seen by the advertising columns of the daily papers, in which appear many advertisements of patent medicines which purport to cure such diseases. Were only the young men to be diseased and enfeebled, the injury to the race would be deplorable enough, but the evil consequences spread further, for when they marry, those affections of the blood are transmitted to their children, innocent inheritors of the curse.

Young men can no more be made continent by legislation than gamblers be forced to cease gambling, yet the evil results of their intercourse with fallen women can be minimized by State regulation of the social evil, as is done in France, Belgium, Germany and the garrison towns of Great Britain. In those places, any woman desiring to pursue a life of shame must register and obtain a permit from the civil authorities, which is granted her after a medical officer has certified that she is in perfect health. Her residence is registered and she can ply her traffic in no other house; should she remove, she must notify the authorities of her change of address. Once a week, she must present herself to the medical officer for an examination. If he finds her free from disease, her permit is endorsed by him and is good for the ensuing week. If unwell, the [woman] is sent to the hospital and kept there until cured.

Should her place of residence be in a respectable neighborhood, the official refuses to grant her a permit until she removes into one of the streets recognized as the haunt of such women. Any public woman who does not register, fails to attend the medical examination, or does not notify the authorities of her change of address is sent to prison. The system may appear harsh and also an endorsement of immorality. On the contrary, it is beneficent and keeps down vice. The weekly medical examination prevents the spread of horrible diseases. The condition as to residence keeps respectable neighborhoods from pollution. The necessity of registration as a fallen women deters thousand of girls from a life of shame.

Why should not such a system be adopted in New Orleans? The social evil is rampant in our midst and all are aware of it. Houses of assignation and ill-fame, like mushrooms, are springing up all over the city. Which of our readers does not know of some young women who has embraced a life of shame, which she would never have done had she been obliged to register? Who does not know some young man who had become a physical wreck in consequence of a disease contracted in one of the brothels of the city? The enactment of law similar to those of the places before she mentioned would deter the daughters of the city from sin, would protect the health of the young men, and would force all the immoral women to take up their residence in one locality.

Upon the front page of this issue an artist has represented the plight in which many of the residents of this city have found themselves. Many a man has purchased a house and lot in a quiet street, hoping to there lead a life of peace and happiness with his wife and family, but has woke up some fine morning to find the next house occupied by disreputable people, who carouse, receive male visitors, hammer the piano all night, use obscene language and convert his paradise into a hell. In such a case, the injured man can do nothing. The council is powerless to interfere so long as the obnoxious people own their house or the landlord of it refuses to eject them. All that remains to the unhappy man whose peace has been destroyed by them, is to sell out a sacrifice and remove elsewhere, there perhaps to undergo the same experience. The whole subject is important, and the MASCOT commends it to the attention of the legislature. 

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Chainsaw Breath

I found my chainsaw “Tooth,” and it has been brought back to life!

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Cast Woes

It’s been three weeks now since I have been in my second round of casts.

Things I forgot were difficult/impossible in a cast: typing, sleeping, peeling crawfish, walking puppies, opening jars, dancing without hitting anyone, going to Jazz Fest, using a knife and fork.

Things I remembered were difficult in a cast: showering, basic grooming, putting on a bra, swapping out lenses and lens caps, general photography.

Things I can still do with some difficulty in a cast: ride a bike, weed, put on a necklace, pick up babies, maintain a level of seriousness.

Things that were not difficult in a cast before but are now: ITCHING! PAIN!

Things I somehow didn’t factor in that are difficult in a cast: making cookies, making buttons, working a chainsaw.

I want to go tubing! And swimming! And kayaking!

Just a couple more weeks. Sigh… Just a couple more weeks.

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