By the 1870s, steamboats carried passengers up and down the Mississippi River, docking in the ports of major cities like New Orleans. Here, in July 1872, Captain John Benson denied Josephine Decuir née Dubuclet entry into the women’s cabin on the steamer Governor Allen explicitly because she was a woman of color, and the women’s cabin was reserved white women only. She was also not allowed to take her meal at a table until all white passengers finished first. Madame Decuir sued Captain Benson for racial discrimination, joining a legacy of women of color who used litigation in the courts to gain rights denied to them during the Reconstruction era. Madame Decuir’s lawsuit against Captain Benson was the first legal case to challenge segregation after the Civil War. Madame Decuir spent the entirety of the American Civil War in France, living in a social environment where she was treated as equal to white women. She came from a family of Black Creoles who spoke French, enslaved others, and owned plantations. Her brother, Antoine Dubuclet, had political influence and served as the Louisiana State Treasurer after the Civil War. In 1866, when she returned home to Louisiana, Decuir boarded the main cabin of the Lafourche, but Captain Barranco denied her access, explaining that segregation was the custom on all steamships. Her prior experiences in France, pride in her family’s status, and Creole identity inspired her to affirm her right to equality. When Madame Decuir boarded the Governor Allen with her lawyers seven years later, she understood the power of them bearing witness to this practice of segregation that directly violated her rights guaranteed under the Louisiana State Constitution of 1868.  Decuir’s legal case began in the New Orleans courts and progressed to the United States Supreme Court (SCOTUS) in 1877, at the end of Reconstruction. Her lawyers argued that Article 13 of Louisiana’s 1868 State Constitution as well as an 1869 statute afforded her equal access to all modes of transportation regardless of race. Madame Decuir never attended court, but her testimony demonstrated a level of intent equal to other women of color who did. Thirty-one women of color, like Madame Decuir, challenged segregation on common carriers from 1855-1914. Decuir relied on her gender and social class to demonstrate that she was a well-respected woman and therefore deserved access to the women’s cabin. At the local courts, other steamship captains testified as witnesses on behalf of Captain Benson to affirm the practice of segregation. In response, Decuir’s case called upon Creole men of color to describe the conditions of the segregated ships. After these testimonies, the judge awarded Decuir $1,000 in damages at which point Captain Benson appealed to the State Supreme Court which upheld the local decision. As a result, Captain Benson’s lawyers requested that SCOTUS add this case to the docket. By the time the case reached SCOTUS, the dynamics had changed. First, Captain Benson died and his widow, Eliza Jane Hall, became the administrator. As a white woman, she represented the institution of segregation that justified racial separation for the protection of white women. The court was more concerned with Decuir’s race than her gender. Additionally, R.H. Marr, a staunch white supremacist who defended the Colfax Massacre and instigated the Battle of Liberty Place, joined as co-counsel for the defense. In Hall v. Decuir (1877), the Supreme Court overturned the Louisiana Supreme Court’s ruling. Even though Decuir’s stint on the Governor Allen remained within the state of Louisiana, the court made a decision on intrastate affairs--because the boat traveled to other states after Decuir disembarked--fell under the jurisdiction of Congress. Therefore, Louisiana’s civil rights laws protecting Black citizens from racial segregation were nullified by federal powers. This ruling demonstrates how SCOTUS intentionally dismantled Black citizenship rights and rolled back federal protections. Hall v. Decuir set the stage for the doctrine of separate but equal by nullifying civil rights laws against segregation. As a Creole woman of color, Decuir’s protest against racially discriminatory practices foreshadowed the arguments of the Comité des Citoyens. Years before the Comité, she fought for public rights to guarantee her dignity and status. Justice Harlan also cited the Hall v. Decuir ruling in his lone dissent in Plessy v. Ferguson. Hall v. Decuir demonstrates how Black women like Decuir were a part of the legacy of defying and challenging the practice of segregation and their involvement in racial justice movements.

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Shirley Thompson, the youngest of the Thompson sisters,  joined the New Orleans Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) Freedom Rides as they tested the Interstate Commerce Commission’s desegregation of bus transit. At eighteen years old, and just a few days after graduating from George Washington Carver High School, Shirley boarded her first Freedom Ride on June 6, 1961, to Jackson, Mississippi. [1]  The previous Freedom Rides into Mississippi were met with violence, an increase in jail penalties from two months to four, and a request from President John F. Kennedy to the Freedom Riders for a “cooling-off period.” However, CORE leaders remained diligent in their protests and continued ahead with their Freedom Rides and sit-ins across Mississippi. [2] Because of CORE members’ vigor and determination to fight white supremacy, police jailed activists for their continued acts of civil disobedience, imprisoning Riders in the Parchman State Penitentiary when local jails exceeded capacity. Police arrested Shirley Thompson for “breach of peace” while attempting a sit-in within a waiting room. Given the increased sentence of four months, police took Shirley to the Parchman State Penitentiary. [3] While there, Shirley stated that “she was slapped by police officers.” [4] CORE activist Abdul Aziz Khaalis documented the brutalities at Parchman State Penitentiary in his diary, later published online as a series entitled Letters to My Children. Khaalis stated: 

"Yes, they took our mattresses from us. We still sang freedom songs. Yes, they took our clothes. Yes, we froze when our bodies touched the steel bunks with the air turned on high. Yes, we were eaten by insects released from jars into the cell block with the air turned off and the windows closed to make it hot like hell as we were bitten and eaten everywhere. Yes, they dragged a screaming white Freedom Rider past our cells. They had a wrist breaker attached to his right arm. It was a handcuff with big screws that hit the nerve points in his wrist. It was attached to a chain with a wooden handle. They dragged him, flipped the chain, making his body flip like a fish from the agony he experienced, and I felt it In my cell and still hear his screams when I have the memory. Yes, they put stuff in our food to give us the runs. Yes, they were devil-mean hateful jailers." [5]  While newspapers reported one piece of Shirley’s testimony from within the walls of Parchman State Penitentiary, Shirley likely faced other violence as well. Jean Thompson posted a bond for her sister and the prison released her. Shirley’s release date is unknown.  Before her death at age 47, Shirley also participated in the 1962 Louisiana Freedom Summer, 1962 Mississippi Freedom Summer, and 1963 March on Washington alongside her sister Alice Marie Thompson. 

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On May 24, 1961, Jean Thompson, at age 19, participated in the Freedom Ride from Montgomery, Alabama to Jackson, Mississippi as civil rights activists tested the Interstate Commerce Commission’s desegregation of bus transit. Jean’s bus was the first to make it safely to its destination in Mississippi. Previously, white groups acted violently to activists and burned Freedom Ride buses. [1] This safe arrival was short-lived. According to the Times-Picayune, city police arrested Jean along with eleven other riders “moments after they alighted from their buses and set foot in a white waiting room at the bus terminal.” [2]  Jean and the other Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) Freedom Riders refused to move from the white waiting room after police ordered them to leave. The police then immediately booked the riders on “two counts of refusing to move on when ordered by police and causing a breach of the peace.” [2] The following day, Jean appeared in front of the municipal court led by Judge James L. Spencer. CORE’s attorney advocated for the riders stating that all people have the right to travel. Judge Spencer did not alleviate the penalties and charged Jean and the other riders with the maximum penalty of a $500 fine and up to six months in jail. [2] 

On November 1, 1961, Alice Marie Thompson joined other New Orleans Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) members to test the Interstate Commerce Commission’s new policy of bus desegregation at the New Orleans Trailways bus terminal located on Loyola Avenue. [1] Information regarding the test’s impact on Riders or the New Orleans community has little documentation. However, according to Julia Aaron-Humbles, another New Orleans activist, some locals regularly took care of the New Orleans CORE members, providing housing, food, nurturing, and training to prepare those like Alice for the violence ahead. [2]  On November 14, Alice Marie Thompson and other CORE members tested bus desegregation in Hattiesburg and Poplarville, Mississippi. The police arrested Alice and charged her with a “breach of peace.” [3] The mayor of Poplarville, Pat Hyde, fined Alice Thompson $250.00 and sentenced her to two months in jail. The police released Alice, along with two other activists, Frank Nelson and Patricia Smith, through a paid bond. [4] On November 29, 1961, Alice also joined in the testing of bus desegregation in McComb, Mississippi along with her sister, Jean. While there, a mob of white people attacked Alice and other CORE members, shouting “Kill ‘em! Kill ‘em.” [5] According to the New York Times writer Claude Sitton, Alice and the other CORE members fled the bus terminal, rested for the evening, and then attempted a sit-in at a local cafe after a reported gas leak at the bus terminal. White men attacked the CORE members, kicking and shoving them through the cafe door onto the street. [6]  Though the Freedom Ride to McComb was the last for Alice Thompson, she continued to engage in other civil rights activism including the 1962 Louisiana Freedom Summer, the 1962 Mississippi Freedom Summer, and the 1963 March on Washington, known for Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream Speech.” [7]  

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In 1952, Lawrence Sintes Sr. opened Sintes Boat Works on the edge of Orleans Marina in Lake Pontchartrain with his oldest son, Lawrence Sintes Jr. The Sintes family’s move to the area, known as the West End neighborhood, coincided with a re-emergence of resorts, restaurants, and amusement rides on the lakefront that drew more tourists and locals to Lake Pontchartrain’s coastal neighborhoods.

The completion of the 1926 Lakefront Land Reclamation Project expanded the amount of habitable West End property and led to an increase in the neighborhood’s population. It was on this reclaimed land that the Sintes family laid the foundations for their home and business. When Sintes Boat Works first opened, Lawrence Sintes Jr. and his father constructed wooden boats, but they soon transitioned to repairing boats harbored in Lake Pontchartrain.

Living and working in the West End for four generations, the Sintes family has experienced significant changes to their neighborhood, from natural disasters displacing community members, to the slow loss of uninhabited land to condominiums. In order to ensure the business’s ongoing success, Lawrence Sintes Jr. and his younger brother, David “Dave” Sintes, embraced modern boat construction technologies. Dave Sintes Jr. introduced modern computer technology to enable the business to construct better boats at a faster pace, while Lawrence Sintes Jr. continued to do what the Sinteses are known for- providing reliable and expert repairs. In 1981, Lawrence Sintes Jr.’s son, Steve Sintes Sr., was the third generation to join the family boatyard, ensuring that Sintes Boat Works would continue well into the future.

Boatbuilding is a Sintes family tradition that has gone on longer than anyone in the family can remember. They are masters of their craft. The Sintes family has left their mark on every boat they have built and repaired. Through their business, the Sintes family has helped the West End’s maritime lake community thrive.

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There were times when enslaved people in New Orleans could no longer bear the intense burden that came with the constant suffering of bondage. Escape became the last hope for some of these slaves despite the dangers that they would surely face if caught. Fanny, an enslaved mother ran away from this site on March 6th, 1844, today marked 1000 Rampart Street. Her owner J. A. Braud posted an advertisement in the Daily Picayune on March 9th in an attempt to encourage her recapture.

Descriptions of enslaved people’s personalities and appearances are rarely included in any writing from the era. When they are found, they most commonly appear in sales documents, which are hardly reliable sources of information because slave traders often modified descriptions of the enslaved for bargaining purposes. While it’s important to consider the biased perspectives of the people who wrote the advertisement like Fanny’s, the objective of them was to accurately describe the missing person so that they could be easily found. They also often include identifying factors such as disposition, skills, family members, or other details that don’t typically appear anywhere else in the historical record.

Fanny is described as “aged about 30 years; speaks English and French; has lost her front teeth; very dark skin.” It was common for enslaved persons to be bilingual, even 30 years after the Louisiana Purchase, which happened around the time Fanny was born. Readers also learn that Fanny had at least two children, a daughter, whom she took with her, described as, “a mulatto, aged 7” indicating that she may have had lighter skin. According to the advertisement, which is reproduced at the bottom of this age, Fanny had a daughter who lived at 183 Girod Street somewhere roughly in the block between Saint Charles Avenue and Carondelet Street.

According to the 1840 Census, there was a J.A. Braud living in the CBD, who owned four slaves. One of them was a woman between 24 and 35, and another was a girl under the age of 10. While we cannot know for sure, it is plausible that these nameless checkmarks in the census record represent Fanny and her daughter. The census shows one person involved in commerce, presumably J.A. Braud. We also learn from the advertisement that she was spotted, though the accuracy of this is questionable, at the St. Mary Market.The St. Mary Market was built in 1822 and remained in its original location on the neutral ground below Tchoupitoulas Street between North and South Diamond Streets, near the present-day Convention Center, until 1858.

Enslaved people were often not physically confined to their homes. There was too much work to do throughout the city. Enslaved women would travel daily to local markets to pick up supplies, including groceries. They were allowed to travel amongst free people in the streets as long as they carried a permission slip, also called a pass. In New Orleans, eyes were everywhere. Runaway slave advertisements often included reward prices, basically a bounty. Here the reward is listed at $10, or roughly $216 today. The ad appeared again in the Times-Picayune on March 10th, two days later, so we know Fanny was successful at staying away for a couple of days. Beyond that, the records stop telling us what happened to Fanny. There are 3 Fannys listed in the 1870 census in New Orleans. One of them is listed with no last name. One is listed with two daughters who could be the right age to be at least one of Fanny’s daughter based on the newspaper ad. Fanny was not an uncommon name, and we have no record of any Fanny that fits the correct age and racial profile between 1844 and 1870.

Walter Johnson writes, “when they ran away, slaves often traced a path backwards toward their past lives.” We can only hope that Fanny was able to reunite with her family and make a successful life on her own. Enslaved people who ran away faced the threat of torture, abuse, death, or imprisonment, but some of them found ways to forge passes, pass as free people, or create new families in the form of maroon communities on the outskirts of town.

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Michael Mizell-Nelson was a historian of the streetcar, exploring the labor history and publicizing the connection of streetcar strikes to the creation of the Po Boy Sandwich, examining streetcar segregation and integration, documenting the women transit operators during World War II, and explaining their rise and demise. His 1995 documentary Streetcar Stories, exploring their cultural history, was aired on over 100 PBS affiliate nationwide.

Both of the featured clips are excerpts from interviews he did for Poppy Tooker's NPR radio show Louisiana Eats. In the first, he discusses the history of the streetcar, including who used the streetcars--with a focus on domestic workers--and the issue of segregation.

In the second he discusses the food history of streetcars including their connection to the creation of the Po Boy, mini markets on the streetcars themselves, the banning of crayfish, and motormen's meals with their families.

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The air service at Patterson performed transportation and maintenance services and built the racing planes which brought fame to Wedell-Williams.

The Air Service’s routes usually started and terminated in New Orleans, but Patterson’s connection to New Orleans brought the town closer to cities like Baton Rouge, Shreveport, Alexandria, Dallas, and even Laredo, TX, next to the Mexican border. One air route went from New Orleans directly to Patterson, then Beaumont and on to Houston. Air routes in the 1930s were similar to train routes, with a main route from Point A to Point B, but with several stops on the way for refueling and maintenance. The aviation industry shared similarities with other transport industries in the beginning. As with trains, planes could transport a group of people more quickly than automobiles; like cars, planes could be privately owned.

Jimmy Wedell’s passion for building fast planes distinguished Wedell-Williams from other air service operations. His first planes were the We-Will and its smaller twin, We-Will, Jr. The We-Will was designed to carry mail faster than any other planes, which Williams thought would help him secure an airmail contract. US airmail delivery routes were hotly contested among air transport companies.

Small air service companies, including the Wedell-Williams Air Service, complained of unfair practices in the awarding of government contracts. The “Airmail Scandal” required action, and on February 9, 1934, Franklin Roosevelt signed an executive order that cancelled all airmail contracts in favor of the military.

Army Air Corps pilots did not know the routes, causing disastrous results. Airmail went back to private companies, but with the stipulation that no previous holder of a government contract would be considered. The air service eventually received an airmail route from New Orleans to Houston.

While the transportation aspect of the air service fluctuated due to the Great Depression, Wedell kept building and racing planes. Wedell would start with small sketches before building the plane from the ground up. Once complete, the plane would undergo numerous test flights to determine its speed capabilities. When Wedell was satisfied with the plane, it would be sold to the person who had commissioned it. Those Wedell built for himself would be flown in many air races across the country.

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The Air Service hit its height in 1933 and 1934, but it experienced a period of decline partially due to the construction of the Shushan Airport in November 1933. The air service took a bigger hit with the death of Jimmy Wedell in June 1934. His plane crashed during a training flight not far from the airport in Patterson, crushing his skull and killing him instantly. The air service lost its vice president and major creative mind. Wedell held the world speed record at the time of his death.

The air service would lose another major creative mind with the death of Jimmy’s brother, Walter Wedell, in a plane crash in July 1935. He and a passenger went down in the Gulf of Mexico. The circumstances of the crash remain mysterious.

The final death-knell of the air service was the death of Harry Williams, the president, majority stockholder, and biggest financial supporter. His plane went down just outside of Baton Rouge, killing both him and John Worthen, a Wedell-Williams pilot. Williams's wife, Marguerite Clark Williams, assumed presidency of the company, but falling revenues and competition with the Shushan Airport (now the New Orleans Lakefront Airport) left an opening for other aviation companies to buy the air service. Eastern Airlines, in particular, was interested in buying the air service to take possession of the airmail route from New Orleans to Houston, which would allow Eastern Airlines to break into the Texas market and take possession of the air service’s fleet of airplanes. By 1937, Mrs. Williams sold the company to Eastern Airlines’s general manager, Eddie Rickenbacker, thus ending the Wedell-Williams Air Service.

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The Wedell-Williams Air Service clearly took little time to establish itself in New Orleans. In July 1929, two months after Wedell and Williams founded the company, Wedell inaugurated a route to St. Louis, MO. In the same month, the air service opened a line from New Orleans to Shreveport, establishing an airport there as well.

When the Great Depression began in November 1929, the air service had to downsize, but it managed to expand the New Orleans–Shreveport route to include Dallas and Fort Worth. By July 1, 1930, a line to Houston opened through Patterson and Beaumont, TX. The company could not evade the debilitating effects of the Great Depression for long, though. By the end of 1931, the air service discontinued air transportation altogether in favor of building and racing planes.

One of the problems for the air service besides the bad economic environment was the contention for mail routes. In early 1931, the air service failed to attain a mail route and had to shrink the air service even more. Many small airlines had problems securing airmail contracts, and some of them accused the Postal Service of unfair practices.

President Franklin Roosevelt tried to resolve this issue, which became known as the Air Mail Scandal, on February 9, 1934 by issuing an executive order to cancel all airmail contracts in favor of the military. This move proved disastrous, for the military pilots did not know the routes and often crashed. Ultimately, the airmail routes reverted to civilian hands with the condition that all previous holders of government contracts would not receive consideration. This allowed previously ignored air services to secure airmail contracts. The Wedell-Williams Air Service would eventually obtain a mail route from New Orleans to Houston.

During that brief hiatus from transportation, the air service focused on what had made their reputation: building and racing planes. Jimmie Wedell, Jimmy Haizlip, his wife Mary Haizlip, and Roscoe Turner attained fame flying in Wedell’s designs. Wedell and Turner flew in races before 1932 and won some awards, but in the 1932 racing season, the air service had its dream team.

1933 was the height of Wedell’s aviation career, breaking numerous records and winning numerous races. The year also saw the re-establishment of transportation lines to Texas, which carried people and mail to Houston and connecting flights across the country. The Air Service remained a local business, but it gained a national reach.

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The Wedell-Williams Airport saw quite a bit of excitement after it opened in early 1931. The Ford company sponsored a series of annual air tours dubbed “The National Air Tour,” with the 1931 tour being the final one. The National Air Tour, led by referee Major James Doolittle, stopped in New Orleans for the first time at the airport the following July. Such air tours promoted aviation in the United States, and for a few days national eyes rested on New Orleans as the pilots stopped at the Wedell-Williams Airport.

Like many other airports of the time, the Wedell-Williams Airport hosted aerial spectacles. On April 6th, 1932, possibly in commemoration of the 25th anniversary of America's entrance into World War I, flyers performed a mock aerial battle over Canal St. and over the Wedell-Williams Airport. The 1932 New Orleans Carnival of the Air also featured fliers, but instead of seeing aerial battles, spectators saw death-defying stunts and races. They were possibly watching the events from where you are standing right now, which in the 1930s, was flat, grassy, and perfect for watching the planes. Wedell showcased his now-famous #44 in this event, but Edith Fasterling almost overshadowed that bright red racer when she crashed her plane a mile away from the airport.

Crashes and dangerous aerial stunts piqued people’s fascination with airplanes, but it hurt aviation’s viability as a safe mode of transportation. Education in advertising and the constant pursuit of safety and comfortable transportation helped the aviation industry attract apprehensive passengers. The use of planes for tourism and business transactions demonstrated that planes might not be more dangerous than taking a train or riding in a car. Though the pilots of the Wedell-Williams Air Service often showcased their daring at air shows and races, safety remained a top priority.

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The Wedell-Williams Air Service sold and distributed planes, taught the next generation of pilots and mechanics, and transported passengers.

To sell planes, the air service received informational pamphlets from aircraft companies on new planes coming out of the factories. The service’s sales representatives gave these pamphlets to potential customers and, if the customer showed interest, the service would arrange to buy the plane for the customer. For the efforts to sell the plane, the air service received a commission (usually ten percent).

If that customer did not know how to fly an aircraft, then he could enroll in the Wedell-Williams Flying School to learn. Depending on the kind of license the customer wanted, lessons would cost $600 (for a private license) to $3500 (for a transport license). Private licenses were best for private planes, but if one wanted to work as a pilot, he would have to get the transport license. Mechanic’s school cost $200 for those who did not want to fly a plane or for those who wanted to work in the aviation industry while studying for a pilot's license. Completing lessons with the air service did not give students a license, but it made them qualified to apply. Once that student had the license, he was able to fly.

Air transportation allowed people to travel from New Orleans to Shreveport, Houston, or St. Louis in only a few hours. These transport routes worked like a train route, with several stops in between the beginning point and the ending point. The Wedell-Williams Air Service operated many routes out of New Orleans and Patterson.

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As the Wedell-Williams Air Service expanded their air service, a new airport was under construction near Harahan in Jefferson Parish. Costing $63,000, the airport featured a 100 foot x 120 foot steel arch weld hangar with a concrete floor, complete with light water and compressed air lines, two underground gasoline pits and tanks, flood landing lights, a concrete airplane wash platform, and gravel roadways and parking lot.

In many other parts of the country, air companies constructed new airports to link major American cities together. This link allowed for faster travel, which benefited both tourism and trade; aviation services boosted the economy, even during the Great Depression.

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The signature attraction of the 1984 Louisiana World Exposition held in New Orleans was MART (Mississippi Aerial River Transit), a $12 million aerial gondola transport system that connected the fair site on the East Bank of the Mississippi River with the West Bank (Old Algiers). For the price of a $3.50 round-trip ticket, fair riders were shuttled 2,500 feet across the Mississippi River in one of 53 six-passenger, teapot-shaped cars strung from cables suspended 320 feet above the river. After the fair, the gondolas briefly became part of the city's mass transit system.

The gondola project was the long-time dream of Mardi Gras float designer and native Algerian Blaine Kern, who envisioned a "combination thrill ride and practical commuter vehicle" to connect both banks of the river, according to a May 6, 1984, Times-Picayune article. During the 1960s, Kern partnered with architect August Perez III to organize MART, Inc.

Two decades later, the concept reemerged during plans for the 1984 Louisiana World Exposition (LWE). The system's initial price tag of $8 million was too steep for area banks. Kern pulled his financial backing from the project, but Perez continued with a consortium of investors to form MART/Perez Inc. The World's Fair and the system's projected $10 million in ticket sales during the first six months of operation gave impetus to the lagging endeavor. Perez found a French bank, Banque de L'Union Européenne of Paris, willing to underwrite the project. Though new to the Louisiana market, the bank was quite familiar with gondola systems. Upon the approval of a 60-year city franchise, the gondolas became a reality.

Construction of the custom-built aerial gondola system began on September 29, 1983, after a host of clearances from sixty-four state, city, and river agencies that shared jurisdiction over the project. Pomagalski S.A., of Grenoble, France supplied the equipment while MART/Perez Inc. constructed the gondola system.

To operate in a generally flat city, two 360 foot steel cable towers spaced 2169 feet apart were built to anchor the aerial gondola system. They were designed at a 20-degree tilt toward the river in order to protect the integrity of the Mississippi River levees. The gondola system included eight safety switches and a unique rescue vehicle known as a Pomabus; this was a self-propelled cart that could traverse a stopped cable and enclose a gondola so passengers could be removed and brought back to the terminal. Evidence suggests that the Pomabus never had to be used.

MART ranked with Disney's Space Mountain ride as the two best thrill rides in America during the six months of the exposition. Despite its popularity, the gondola struggled to attract the anticipated 3 million riders -- mainly because of the fair's low attendance. The fate of the gondolas was tied closely to the fair's success -- or lack of success. Riders either had to buy a fair ticket or possess a season passport before they could purchase a gondola ticket.

After the fair closed, the gondola system was promoted as a unique commuter system. MART officials hoped that West Bankers would ride the gondola daily to and from the east bank, especially to the Central Business District. A commuter could purchase a $25 unlimited (per month) ride ticket or a $50 ticket; the latter included daily parking at the lot adjacent to the West Bank terminal. West Bankers did not embrace the concept nor did the residents of old Algiers welcome the additional automobile traffic during the fair. Four months after the bankrupt LWE closed, its signature attraction ceased operation permanently.

While legal battles concerning loan payments, property rights, and ownership ensued, the last remaining structure of the fair remained idle. The New Orleans Dock Board began the process of having the entire system dismantled. In 1992, the passenger cars were sold, and in 1994 the US Coast Guard ordered the removal of the 360 foot steel towers and their cables. MART did not become a legendary landmark of the 1984 World's Fair, but for thousands of fairgoers it provided a lifelong memory.

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On May 4, 1867, Guillaume acted. What happened next is open to some debate. According to the New Orleans Times, at 11:30 a.m. Guillaume hailed a “Whites Only” car number 148 on Love Street, now known as Rampart. When the driver refused to stop, Joseph jumped aboard and “coolly took the reigns in his own hands.” Blair Kelley counters that Joseph “fought off a conductor who had tried to eject him, threw the conductor out of the car, and drove off with the vehicle.” Roger Fischer contends that “Guillaume overpowered him, seized the reins, and began to make off with the streetcar as a trophy of war while the terrified passengers evacuated as best they could.” In a more benign version of the story, the New Orleans Tribune suggested that “the gentleman seized the bridle of the mule to stop him, and the driver whipped the animal to make him go. "

Whatever the story, it was a critical moment. Three days later the Tribune would report that “all the companies had come to the understanding of admitting our citizens into all the cars, without any distinction as to color.” Chief of Police Thomas E. Adams issued an order: “Have no interference with negroes riding in cars of any kind. No passenger, has a right to eject any other passenger no matter what color. If he does so he is liable to arrest for assault or breach of the peace.” Arceneaux notes, “at the order of General Phillip H. Sheridan, in May 1867, all public transportation was integrated, and the ‘star car’ system was ultimately abandoned until the end of Reconstruction in 1877.”

Even then, however, some star cars apparently were still operating. The May 11 Daily Picayune reported, “a group of colored men hailed a car on Carondelet Street last night, and the driver immediately stopped. The party advanced and seeing that it was a star car, told the driver to go ahead, that they concluded not to ride.” Finally, by May 25, the New Orleans Times reported that the star car system had been abolished.

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No doubt Guillaume had heard of Dr. R. I. Cromwell, who had forcibly been thrown from a non-star car by five or six men who kicked him and tore his clothes. Cromwell noted the inequity of the star system, writing that “every seventh car is a star car, so we have to wait three-quarters of an hour before we can get a car, and then it may be full of whites, for star cars are generally filled with whites.”

Guillaume may also have known the story of a black soldier riding with his mother, only to watch her “brutally ejected from a city car…in accordance with the rules that the company have themselves made, which provides that soldiers with their military clothes on, are the only persons of color to be admitted in the ‘white cars.’”

These injustices happened despite the fact that General Benjamin Franklin Butler had abolished the star car system and “required the admission of decent colored people into all the public vehicles.” In fact, the Tribune, the city’s black newspaper, had called for an end to the star system for some time, keeping the injustice in the public eye, and calling it “odious” and “the most wicked thing ever seen.”

In August of 1865, the Tribune called for a public demonstration against the system. Noting that “at least ten percent more is made by the ‘star cars’ than by the ‘no star’ cars” because “a great many whites wait for a star car to crowd out colored persons, and a great many young ‘scions’ wait for a star car in hope of having the opportunity to insult respectable colored ladies” the Tribune suggested that “every colored citizen of New Orleans, on and after the fifteenth of August enter into any car of the C.R.R.C. and if ordered out—take a seat; and if afterwards he is ejected, sue the company.”

Two days later the paper noted “colored men have entered the ‘no star’ cars since two or three days, and the drivers have been unable to procure the assistance of the police to help them out. Police officers have no longer any right to interfere in such cases, and they know it. Let everybody get freely into all the public conveyances.”

Two years later, as Joseph waited for the train, he was still compelled to take a car with a black star instead of the first one available. No wonder he was feeling discontent. Reconstruction was in full swing, conditions for blacks were supposed to be improving, and yet this unjust transportation system persisted.

And he wasn’t alone.

In the spring of 1867, the discontent had reached a boiling point. In April, William Nichols stepped into a car on Canal Street and was told by the driver to leave or the car wouldn’t move. Mr. Nichols refused, saying “he saw no reason why he should travel in a star car, and that he intended to remain where he was unless ejected by force.” The Conductor and Starter complied, and Mr. Nichols was arrested, charged with taking forcible possession of a car. The city’s black citizens eagerly awaited the outcome of the trial, believing it would set a precedent upholding the Civil Rights Bill and outlawing discrimination in public establishments and institutions.

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Joseph Guillaume had had enough. The Civil War was over, Reconstruction was in full swing, yet the practice of segregation on the streetcars of New Orleans continued. Every third streetcar—although it was sometimes less often—was supposed to be designated a “star car” and thus could be ridden by blacks. This inhumane system was especially galling for African-American passengers because whites were free to ride the star cars, and they often filled the seats that were supposedly allotted to people of color.

It was a cool, clear, pleasant day. Guillaume was incensed by the lack of progress being made toward ending segregation and the injustice of the star system. As he waited, he made a decision that might have been inconceivable to others: he wouldn’t take the star car that day.

Many white New Orleanians, accustomed to preferential treatment allocated to them through racist practices, supported the continued practice of segregating streetcars. In fact, some felt that there should be “at least FOUR white cars to ONE star car” or “to have some cars constructed with a special apartment for the colored people” so white people would never have to wait for a car.

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The Desire streetcar line gained widespread acclaim when Tennessee Williams' play, "A Streetcar Named Desire," was published in 1947. By that time, New Orleanians were quite familiar with the Desire line--many of them probably taking it to work, home, or the market--and were likely aware, if not prepared for, its impending replacement by bus the next year.

Begun by the New Orleans Railway & Light Company in 1920, for the majority of its existence the route ran from Canal Street and turned onto Bourbon. After traveling down Bourbon, it veered left on Pauger St.,and then went down Dauphine to Desire St. On the return trip, the streetcar traveled Tonti to France, France to Royal Street, and then followed Royal all the way to Canal.

At least as early as 1940, New Orleans Public Service, Inc. (NOPSI) and the city were considering transitioning streetcars in the French Quarter to busses after routine complaints by French Quarter residents. The Desire Line, as well as the City Park and Gentilly Lines, passed through the Quarter at that time. As stated in the Times-Picayune on July 27, 1940, "Principal complaint against the streetcars has been that their vibration is responsible for much of the property damage in that part of the city, and that their noise and difficulty in negotiating the narrow streets, especially during the busy hours, unduly disturbs the residents." Residents also disagreed with the modernity represented by the streetcars, which they considered "out of keeping" with the French Quarter. As was also noted, however, busses provide the same, if not more, sense of modernity and would be even more numerous than the streetcars.

In early 1948, an almost $14 million NOPSI budget was approved of which about $500,000 was set aside for the conversion of the Desire Line to a motor bus.

By April of the same year, French Quarter residents had apparently changed their minds (perhaps on the heels of the popularity that Williams' play brought to the Desire Line). The French Quarter Residents Association passed a resolution expressing discontent over the projected removal of the Desire Streetcar line. The Association argued that New Orleans would forfeit considerable amounts of publicity should they proceed.

Unfortunately, just over one month later the Desire Streetcar was no more. Beginning May 30, 1948, the streetcar was replaced by the Desire bus. A Kirschman's Furniture ad boasted that with the introduction of the buses: "… your waiting time is much reduced. It means that seating capacity is increased by 34%."

In 1967, almost 20 years after the last Desire streetcar rumbled through the French Quarter, New Orleans Public Service Inc. donated restored car No. 453-- a Desire Line-style car used starting in the early 1900s-- to the Louisiana Tourist Development Commission. Although never actually used on the Desire line, the car became symbolic of the line specifically and of New Orleans streetcars in general.

The car was moved to the French Market that same year. After sitting in this spot for 12 years and falling into disrepair, the Louisiana State Museum purchased the car in 1979 and announced that it would move the 14-ton car to the grounds of the U.S. Mint. In the early 1990s, No. 453 was returned to the New Orleans Regional Transit Authority (the company that replaced NOPSI), and the car now sits unused in Carrollton Station.

In 2003, a brand-new Desire streetcar line was proposed, although it would follow a different route than the older line going down North Rampart and St. Claude Ave. NORTA argued that it would bring economic revitalization to the corridor and attract tourists to the area. Unfortunately, federal funding was ultimately denied for the project.

As of 2015, construction has begun on a new line on the previously proposed North Rampart and St. Claude Ave. route, although it has not been called the Desire line.

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When planning the 1984 Louisiana World Exposition (LWE), fair and city officials decided to build a monorail system. This project had two objectives. First, it was intended to move many visitors so as to limit traffic congestion in the Warehouse and Downtown districts directly adjacent to the fair. Second, this advanced transportation infrastructure was supposed to stay in New Orleans as a tribute to modernity. Mayor Ernest “Dutch” Morial had hoped to build a line down the middle of Poydras Street to connect the new Convention Center to the Superdome. The city wanted to repeat the successful conversion of the Seattle World’s Fair monorail into permanent transit infrastructure.

When the Reagan administration refused to fund the monorail, the city decided to build it on the 80-acre riverfront site of the fair. Six companies bid, and the contract was awarded to Universal Mobility Inc., a Salt-Lake City company which had built 8 other monorail systems in North America. New Orleans’ system was a $15 million, 1.4 mile rubber-tired monorail based on the Straddle - Steel Box Beam technology. Introduced in the 1960s, this technology is still used.

Three elevated stations were designed by Charles Sanders of Perez and Associates Architecture Company. The New York Times advised that “the silent, elegant monorail will loop everywhere, diving at points into buildings.” The ten car, 146 passenger monorail circled the Exposition counterclockwise. It reached speeds of 10 miles per hour and took 12 minutes to complete the trip. One of the transit stations hosted a local television news broadcast center, which allowed live coverage of the fair.

Several plans were considered for the subsequent use of the monorail system. Allan Eskew, the main architect of the fair, proposed to give it to Audubon Park or City Park to move the public within their grounds. Later, the Regional Transit Authority (RTA) announced that that they were interested in purchasing the monorail to install it in the center of Poydras Street, as previously envisioned by the Mayor Morial administration. The federal money that RTA had traditionally used to buy transit equipment could not be used to buy monorail systems, and the RTA failed to raise private money to fund the project.

Unfortunately, the fair did not attract the 11 million visitors that the LWE officials had expected, so the fair left a $102 million debt. The LWE had to file for bankruptcy and could not pay its contractors. Universal Mobility sued Petr Spurney and Floyd Lewis, respectively president and chairman of the Louisiana World Exposition. In a 1985 hearing, the US District Judge ruled that LWE officials were not personally responsible for the debts. The assets of the LWE were auctioned in 1985, including the monorail and its three elevated stations.

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The Prytania Streetcar began operation in 1861 as a mule-drawn car line. It was called the "Silk Stocking" line because its route included the streets of the "Garden District," an uptown area of the city developed in the 19th century by wealthy merchants. Lined with live oaks and mansions, the Prytania Streetcar route's many patrons included the philanthropist and founder of Touro Infirmary, Judah Touro.

Only the populated areas of the city enjoyed fixed-rail transit. Prior to 1861, horse-drawn omnibuses traveling over regular streets serviced the less populated areas around Prytania Street. This system proved adequate until the city experienced a population boom in the 1850s. Unable to handle the increased traffic, omnibuses were replaced with horse-drawn railroads.

According to the Daily Delta newspaper, the New Orleans City Railroad Company was chartered on June 15, 1860. By 1861, twenty-six miles of horse railroad track had been laid in the city. Service commenced on the Camp and Prytania Line (later Prytania) on June 8, 1861. Streets of the original route included Canal, Camp, Prytania, Toledano, Poeyfarre, and Magazine. Various route changes and consolidations took place over the years.

New Orleans experimented with several potential substitutes for horsecars. The ammonia motor was tried on several lines in the city, including the Prytania. The motor suffered several failures and was considered to be impractical. City fathers were hesitant to adopt the "new-fangled" electric cars.

The 1890s saw the electrification of all the horsecar lines in the city. The Prytania Streetcar Line was electrified on September 15, 1894. It became a main artery of travel. Uptown residents eager to shop Canal Street merchants could now travel in the speed and comfort of electric streetcars.

The Prytania Streetcar Line was serviced almost exclusively by the "Prytanias," a luxurious class of electric cars just as distinctive as the elegant "Garden District" neighborhood. Mahogany interiors surrounded patrons seated in St. Louis rattan seats. They looked out of Robertson windows that slid conveniently into side panels when open. The "Prytania" cars were designed for double-end operation and the prepayment of fares, the first of its type in New Orleans.

A public's changing preference for private transportation made streetcar operation unprofitable. After 1926, streetcars were no longer the lifeblood of the city. According to a New Orleans Public Service Inc. newspaper announcement, the Prytania Streetcar Line discontinued operations on October 1, 1932, and the Nashville Bus Line began service over a part of the territory formerly served by the line. Prytania Street was not included.

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Following increasingly heated contract negotiations, New Orleans streetcar motormen and conductors struck beginning July 1, 1929. The survival of the carmen's union and 1,100 jobs was in question. Transit strikes throughout the nation provoked emotional displays of public support, and the 1929 strike ranks among the nation's most violent.

The strike was the culmination of years spent fighting over control of the workplace. Transit managers with New Orleans Public Service, Inc. (NOPSI) had worked to develop a company union whose leaders had once been officers of the AFL union. The former president of the  Amalgamated Association of Street and Electric Railway Employees of America Division No. 194 now headed a rival, company union known as the Progressive Benevolent Association.

For the first few days, no streetcars operated. When the company attempted to run the cars on July 5 using "strike breakers" (career criminals brought in from New York), brickbats and jeering crowds stopped all but one. More than 10,000 New Orleanians gathered downtown and watched strike supporters disable and then burn the first car operated by a strike breaker. These excerpts from the video documentary Streetcar Stories feature eyewitness accounts about the most violent day of the strike.

To learn more about how this strike created one of New Orleans' most iconic foods, check out our tour stop about the Po-Boy Sandwich.

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During the Second World War, a labor shortage developed as men began to serve in the armed forces. Women were increasingly encouraged to take over responsibilities on the home front. Women took jobs of all types: skilled and unskilled, manual and office. While men served overseas, women assumed support roles in the military and worked in various defense plants. Though not as celebrated, women also worked in one of the city's most visible industries.

From 1943 through early 1946, more than two hundred females from rural areas throughout the South as well as New Orleans neighborhoods worked on the streetcars. Positions with New Orleans Public Service, Inc. (NOPSI) paid significantly higher wages than the drug store and retail clerk positions typically afforded women. NOPSI trained the women alongside male recruits, and each woman was responsible for the same duties: operating the cars and performing impromptu maintenance; collecting transit fares; keeping the cars on schedule; and enforcing racial segregation within the transit vehicles. In Southern cities, African-American males were never considered for employment as transit operators.

Monitoring and adjusting the race screen proved to be the most difficult part of their job. Despite protests from the NAACP, federal officials refused to suspend the practice of racial segregation in the city. In many instances, white as well as black soldiers and sailors who had trained at bases throughout the South chafed at the Jim Crow requirement as they passed through the city on their way overseas. Soldiers often threw the "race screen" signs out of the windows. Military Police and New Orleans Police officers provided support for the women operators and arrested soldiers who protested the practice.

Once the men returned, the women were required to leave their positions. Most were informed when they showed up to work their shifts. Many were upset to see newly returned military veterans -- not just former transit operators -- assuming these jobs. The last women were released by February 1946. Some women transitioned into other jobs while many returned to household work. Transit company documents suggest that women earned the same rate of pay as men, but many of the women report being paid a bit less than the men, presumably to placate their male co-workers. Fifty years later during a 1993 reunion of the operators, a woman named Anna was celebrated because she had refused to "give up her badge" until threatened with arrest. Women would not serve as streetcar operators again until the mid-1970s, following advances made by the Civil Rights and Women's Rights movements.

Images are from the private collections of the late Mary Fischer, New Orleans' first woman transit operator, and the late Albert McCloskey Browne, former streetcar conductor, bus operator and accident claims investigator.

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Shortly before the arrest of Homer Plessy in June 1892, a successful streetcar strike initiated a wave of union organizing that culminated in what has been called the first biracial general strike in US history. Between 20,000 and 25,000 union workers, who together with their families represented a great deal of the city’s population, stopped work on November 8 and remained on strike until November 11. The workers organized a city-wide united front called the Workingmen’s Amalgamated Council, located on Exchange Alley. The strikers abandoned the main goal of the action—securing the right to bargain collectively within a union shop in all workplaces—under the threat of martial law. The strike itself, however, represented labor's temporary rejection of the race-baiting and fear-mongering practiced by white workers as well as businessmen. Significantly, one black union representative served on the negotiating committee.

The 1880s had been marked by several integrated labor strikes and demonstrations, but stirrings of the general strike originated in May 1892, when the streetcar operators’ successful walkout won recognition for a closed shop and shorter hours, from 16 to 12 hours per day. Local labor unity was enhanced throughout the year, as the American Federation of Labor's (AFL) organizing campaign added 30 new unions to the previous 65. African-American labor organizer George Norton was mostly responsible for the AFL's success in chartering biracial unions.

The Board of Trade proclaimed that it would sign an agreement with the Scalesmen and Packers' unions, but not with the third group in the Triple Alliance—the Teamsters' Union—because the Board refused to “‘enter into any agreement with n— —rs.’” To do so would mean placing the employers under the command of blacks, they argued. Following two postponements, the general strike went into effect on November 8. About half of the city’s unions joined in the strike, and all of them demanded the closed shop. The streetcar and printers’ unions broke contracts to join the strike. The powerful cotton trade unions remained at work, and their employer, the Cotton Exchange, refrained from appearing to cooperate with the Board of Trade. Without precedent, workers from lower-middle-class occupations with no previous attempts to organize, such as musicians, clothing and shoe store clerks, and workers from the utility companies such as the gas and waterworks also participated in the strike. One of the humblest groups of toilers imaginable, those largely black and immigrant street railway workers who built and maintained the rail systems, did not seem to join in the general strike. Shortly after the carmen’s successful May strike, tracklayers for one of the railway companies also tried to strike. The company fired the track crews and quickly replaced them.

Pro-labor Mayor John Fitzpatrick refused the business community’s calls to intervene to end the strike, so Governor Murphy Foster prepared to send state militia into New Orleans. The threat of violence caused the organizers of the General Strike to bring it to an end and accept labor agreements written on terms set by business. Wage increases were provided, but the settlement did not include recognition of unions. The streetcar union and its contract had been dissolved once they had decided to participate in the General Strike.

Though unsuccessful, the strike’s broad reach throughout the working class and middle-class community likely owed much to the earlier success of the carmen in securing their union shop contract. Still, organized labor in New Orleans lost much, especially the streetcar workers, whose union recognition ended. The day the strike ended, the Item’s “Labor Department” offered the following review of the strike: “Both to the working and employing classes this demonstration must prove of great value. It should convince even the hardest task masters—and it is by this class that the strike was caused—that even the humblest toilers have rights deserving of consideration.”

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In an era when urban planners tout streetcars as engines of urban redevelopment, it is good to remember how dangerous these urban railroads could be.

In the oral history below, the late journalist and historian Charles "Pie" Dufour, in what may have been his last formal interview, describes the maiming of a child on the Dryades Line in the early 1920s.

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