CHASING THE BLUES, Chapter 7.Days 9-10.  Baton Rouge, LA to La Place, LA 
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Once our car was serviced at the local Acura dealer Monday morning, we left Baton Rouge, continuing back east on the top section of a loop that would take us almost back to New Orleans.  Last week when plotting our course from New Orleans to Baton Rouge, we debated whether to follow the southern route through the heart of Acadiana or stick with the river road through Plantation Alley.  Unwilling to choose one over the other, we opted to do both.

After the cultivation of sugar cane was introduced into Louisiana in the late 18th century, large sugar plantations sprang up along the Mississippi River to raise this lucrative crop.  Enriched on the backs of enslaved laborers, wealthy planters eventually lined the river banks between New Orleans and Natchez with columned Greek Revival mansions set amidst lush gardens and massive moss-draped live oak trees.  Writing in Life on the Mississippi, Mark Twain described the scene:

More than 300 years ago, adventurous French explorers were plying the Mississippi River and claiming territory west of it for France.  At the time, a prominent red stick, stained with the blood of game, was posted on a bluff above the east bank of the river to mark the boundary between the hunting grounds of two local Native American tribes.  Explorers began to refer to the spot as Baton Rouge (red stick).  Eventually a settlement grew up there, and today the city still bears that name.

When we arrived at the capitol and found it open on to visitors on Sunday, we were even more surprised to learn that parking was easy in a free lot about 150 feet from the grand entrance steps.  The typical security screening—walk-through metal detector and bag x-ray—was friendly and efficient.

Mr. Long's dream

The current Louisiana Capitol started as the dream of one man—the controversial and flamboyant Huey P. Long, an outspoken populist who served as governor from 1928 to 1932.  Proposals to build a new statehouse to replace the castellated 1849 structure had been floated since the early 1920s, but had languished in the legislature unheeded.  After he was elected, Long made a new capitol building one of his priorities, hiring an architectural firm with an executive order and approving the design himself.  Inspired by the Art Deco skyscraper statehouse that was under construction in Nebraska when he began his pet project, Long insisted that architects make the building a tower and infuse it with symbolism reflecting Louisiana and its history.

As was his style, Governor Long used his forceful persuasive powers to convince the legislature and the Louisiana populace that building a $5 million building at the height of the Great Depression was not just possible, but desirable.  While others suggested it might be a risky venture, the governor forged ahead.  This would be the people's capitol, he declared, and he wasn't willing to wait indefinitely for its construction.  Thanks to active urging and prodding by Huey P. Long, the Louisiana State Capitol was built in just 14 months on a prominent downtown site which had formerly housed the LSU campus.

Just as Mr. Long envisioned, this building is distinctly Louisianan.  Though dozens of kinds of stone from locations around the world were used in the construction, every decorative motif references the history or natural history of this unique state. Sculptures and reliefs include pelicans, turtles, swamp waters and magnolias.  Unlike numerous capitol buildings we have seen which could easily be transplanted to any other state fittingly, this one is a unique reflection of its state.

Memorial Hall, Louisiana State Capitol

Upon entering, we stepped into the striking Memorial Hall, which serves the same ceremonial and magisterial role as the rotunda in most statehouses.  With a ceiling four stories high, the magnificent room is flanked on either end by the legislative chambers, whose double bronze doors feature scenes from Louisiana history, as does the frieze around the top of the walls.  Flags of the ten governments that have controlled Louisiana over the past 300 years hang above two priceless porcelain and gold vases, gifted to the state by France.

Relief map

In the hall's center is a bronze relief map of the state with depictions of natural products.  Names of each of the state's 64 parishes (counties) surround the map, which was littered with coins—donations to the state treasury, we presume.  

House of Representatives Chamber

Like the Memorial Hall, the House chamber is ornately decorated with bronze, various kinds of stone, and rich woods.  A plaster frieze depicts plants and animals found in a Louisiana swamp, and other state symbols, such as pine cones and cattails, are featured prominently.

Senate Chamber

As we see so often, the decor of Senate chamber was considerably more opulent than that of the House.  Its elaborate marble columns and coffered ceiling are reminders that this is the "upper house" of the legislature.  In both chambers, the Celotex ceiling is made of bagasse, a byproduct of sugar cane processing, one of Louisiana's primary crops.  Sixty-four hexagons in the Senate ceiling reflect the number of the state's parishes.

South gardens in front of the Capitol.

On the 27th floor, an observation deck offers spectacular views of the gardens, the river, and downtown Baton Rouge.  The formal south garden stretches between the front of the capitol and the city.  After Huey P. Long, then a member of the U.S. Senate, was assassinated in the state capitol in 1935, his remains were buried in the center of this formal garden.  Later a 30-foot monument with a 12-foot statue of the governor looking toward the statehouse was erected at the site.

Of the 23 state capitols we have visited, Louisiana's ranks near the top of our list, for both its architectural distinction and its state-specific design.  Art Deco features decorate the exterior all the way up the tower, many of which are all but impossible to appreciate without binoculars (or a hot air balloon ride).

Huey P. Long had a legion of detractors and an army of supporters.  Without weighing in on the arguments about whether he was a hero of the common man or a dictator, let us just say, on the Louisiana statehouse, he did very well.

CHASING THE BLUES, Chapter 6.Days 7-8.  Lafayette, LA to Baton Rouge, LA 
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Saturday, 28 March

CHASING THE BLUES, Chapter 5.Days 5-6.  Houma, LA to Broussard, LA 
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Our big plans for a swamp tour were drowned in a lingering thunderstorm on Thursday.  We ended up spending the morning doing laundry at the hotel and driving the short distance to Morgan City in the afternoon, counting raindrops rather than gators.

But Friday brought back blue skies, and Morgan City (pop. 12,091), situated on the eastern bank of the Atchafalaya (uh-CHUH-fuh-LIE-uh) River in a distinctly Cajun region, offered some interesting sites of its own. In the early 1800s, federal government surveyors sent to this area to map out the uncharted Louisiana territory spotted what they thought was a tiger on the river bank and dubbed the place Tiger Island. The name stuck until 1860 when a permanent town was established around the large sugar cane plantation of Walter Brashear, a transplanted Kentucky surgeon.  The town was called Brashear in his honor.

By 1876, the town had become a trading center and had been renamed Morgan City as a tribute to steamship and railroad entrepreneur Charles Morgan, who spearheaded the dredging of the river as a way to open the city's port to ocean-going vessels.  Ever evolving, Morgan City later transformed itself into a commercial fishing stronghold, building a special reputation for its jumbo shrimp.  More recently the offshore oil industry has become a major player in the local economy.

With all this emphasis on black gold, we couldn't resist stopping at the rig museum, an industry shrine also known by the more glorified appellation of the International Petroleum Museum and Exposition.  Most familiarly, the structure is warmly called "Mr. Charlie."

Mr. Charlie

Built in 1953, Mr. Charlie was the world's first transportable and submersible oil drilling rig.  When offshore drilling began in the late 1800s, parts and materials were carried to the designated location, a derrick was constructed on site, and production began.  When that site was no longer needed, all was dismantled to be moved to the next drilling destination and re-constructed—until an innovative Louisiana engineer decided there must be a better way.

A.J. LaBorde conceived the idea of building the entire drilling operation on a transportable barge and floating it to the identified location, where water would be pumped into the barge to sink it until it rested on the ocean floor, becoming a stable platform.  When that well was tapped out, the water could be pumped out and the rig floated to a new location.

Faced with an ocean of skepticism regarding the viability of his radical idea, LaBorde was so excited when the fledgling Murphy Oil Company's CEO, Charles Murphy, finally became the rig's first investor, the engineer gave him naming rights.  After the rig was built and proved its worthiness, Mr. Charlie drilled hundreds of offshore wells for many major oil companies and revolutionized the industry.  By 1986, however, drilling was moving to waters deeper than Mr. Charlie's 40-foot legs could reach and he retired to Morgan City.

"Johnny" lowers the boom

Narrowly avoiding the scrap heap, the rig was ultimately stationed just off the bank of the Atchafalaya River, where it is now used for training petroleum workers as well as to educate the public about the industry.  Our tour guide for today was "Johnny," an affable fellow who was doing his best to share his knowledge of offshore drilling.  Substituting for the usual docent, Johnny, a diver in the industry, exhibited extensive expertise but had difficulty composing explanations comprehensible to a layperson.

"So you just swing, roll, swing, tighten.  Boom!  That's how that works."

"If the geologist says it's +5 or -10, these guys have to build it up to—boom!—whatever is needed."

After 90 minutes of this enlightenment, we left the rig and Morgan City and drove 50 miles west to Avery Island, famous as the home of Tabasco sauce.  Named for the Avery family who established a sugar plantation on the site in the 1830s, Avery is not really an island but a massive salt dome—a dry mound surrounded by wetlands.  It is said that the salt, from an ancient sea, runs eight miles deep below the dome.

Who knew so many products were made with Tabasco sauce?

Our first stop was the Tabasco sauce factory where 700,000 units of pepper sauce are bottled daily—but not today as employees were conducting a quarterly inventory.  We did, however, learn about the process and the history.  Before the Civil War, Edmund McIlhenny, a New Orleans banker, married into the Avery family and moved to the plantation.  When the family returned to their home after occupying Union forces departed, McIlhenny, an avid gardener, began growing plants from the seeds of peppers brought from Mexico.  Intrigued with their fiery flavor, he wanted to make a sauce from the peppers to spice up the bland post-war diet.

une petit baton rouge

Selecting only the reddest peppers, McIlhenny concocted a mash with the peppers and Avery Island salt, aged it, added French white wine vinegar, aged the mixture again, and strained it into bottles.  On a much larger scale, this same basic process is still used today with the aging mash stored for 3 to 8 years in oak barrels.  During the harvest, each pepper picker carries a little red stick (une petit baton rouge), painted the exact color of a perfectly ripe pepper, to ensure consistency in flavor.  Members of the McIlhenny family still oversee this process and Tabasco sauce today is packaged with labels in 21 languages and shipped to more than 110 countries.

After learning about the history of Avery Island— where salt meets pepper, as the locals boast—we couldn't leave without sampling some of the product.  The Tabasco General Store offered many choices, and we opted for some crackers and a praline—yes, that sugary candy with pecans—made with Tabasco sauce.  Both were quite tasty, but we harbored no regrets about not stocking up.

Before leaving Avery Island, we chipped in $8 each to visit Jungle Gardens, a 170-acre garden with tropical plants and abundant wildlife—not to mention a stolen centuries-old statue of Buddha.  In the late 1800s, snowy egrets were being hunted for their plumage.  Understanding the risk of extinction, Edmund McIlhenny established this sanctuary and started a bird colony to save the species.  Thousands of migrating egrets and other water birds nest at this refuge each year.

Nesting platforms offer refuge to migrating birds.

All manner of specimen plants were imported to add beauty to Mr. McIlhenny's gardens.  Dozens of varieties of azaleas and camellias provide color, but one of the most interesting features is housed in a glass temple within an Asian style garden.

Shrine to an unusual gift

Legend has it that in the 1920s, a Chinese warlord stole an ancient Buddha (circa 1100 AD) from an enemy tribe and shipped it to New York.  There it languished in a warehouse until 1936, a year after Jungle Gardens opened to the public.  When two friends of McIlhenny came across the statue, they purchased it and sent to him as a gift for the Asian section of his gardens.

Leaving this tropical sanctuary, we drove the 25 miles to Broussard and checked into a newly constructed Hampton Inn which just opened six days ago.  After a bit of grocery shopping, we put together a lavish salad and began plotting our visit to nearby Lafayette tomorrow.