The intersection of St. Peter and Royal Streets is loud and busy with the passing hustle of to-go drinks, music, and tourists, making it hard to notice a faded patch of tile work outside the corner grocery store located at 701 Royal Street. However, this almost hidden marker is a powerful reminder of a long line of baking and confectionary businesses that once occupied the space and built on French and Spanish colonial baking traditions.

Mannessier’s Confectionary was the last of several bakeries to operate out of the location. An 1895 photograph shows the elegant and ornate interior of Mannessier’s, lined with the above-mentioned tilework. (Pictured below) According to owner Adolph LeClerc’s 1912 obituary, “he owned a confectionary at the time of his death, which is noted throughout the city as one of the landmarks of the old French section.” [1] The first recorded bakery to operate out of this location was Cadet’s Bakery (1789 to 1824). Frenchman Jacques Molon (or Moulon) established Cadet’s in a rear structure facing St. Peter Street and operated a mill "in which coarse flour, floated down the Mississippi River on flatboats, was reground to a finer grade – the grade that made the loaves Cadet sold over the counters of his corner store second to none. No other baker made a better brioche." [2]

Bakers and millers were among the first laborers sent by the French government to New Orleans in 1718, bringing the supplies and knowledge necessary to establish strong bread-making and bread-eating traditions. The first recorded commercial bakery in New Orleans was for a baker named Francois Lemelle (or Lemesle), who operated under the alias of “Bellegarde” at the corner of St. Ann and Chartres Streets. [3] These transplanted French bakers relied on standard methods and recipes. The types of bread baked resembled those popular in eighteenth-century France – large dense round loaves of mixed grains, smaller enriched loaves of white flour, and hard, long-lasting biscuits suitable for sea voyages. Bakeries often produced two qualities of bread, one of more refined quality and one of second quality, for those unable to afford the higher-priced loaves. This two-tiered bread system continued into the next century and reinforced bread as a marker of social class. [4] Eventually, the more elite white loaves of bread became the norm, replacing the large whole grain loaves. [5] Today, small artisan bakeries are again reversing the trend, returning to whole grain rustic loaves, but this time at an elevated status/price.

Bakeries in eighteenth-century New Orleans also resembled bakeries of the same time in France -- equipped with one or more wood-burning brick ovens, wooden peels to move the loaves in and out, long wooden dough troughs to mix the dough, and a workbench to weigh and shape loaves. By 1820, approximately sixty French bakers and confectioners operated in New Orleans close to the Mississippi River – a source for the water needed to make bread. Rainwater collected in outdoor cisterns provided an additional source of water. While the bread baked at Cadet’s bakery maintained a French identity, the bakery opened when New Orleans was under Spanish colonial control. The Spanish colonial forces had a lasting impact on bread-making history in New Orleans not through recipes but by implementing ordinances on the price of flour and the size and price of bread due to flour shortages. The Municipal Council of New Orleans also taxed the number of barrels of flour bakers consumed to collect funds for the city's illumination system. This tax replaced a system of taxation based on the number of chimneys on each building, obsolete following a fire in 1784 that destroyed many buildings and chimneys. [6] These government regulations contributed to the standardization of a loaf of bread in the city.

After Cadet’s bakery closed, several other bakers and confectioners operated in that same location (Leblanc, Lefevre, Tambelli, Vincent, Desbonnes and Bonnecayes, Mannessier, and LeClerc). [7] While always evolving and adapting, the bread-making traditions of New Orleans remain firmly established in the familiar identity of the early French bakers.

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In 2013, the reality cooking television series Top Chef filmed its eleventh season in New Orleans at 1231-33 Bourbon Street to revitalize the struggling restaurant and tourism industry following the effects of the 2010 BP oil spill on Gulf seafood. [1] While Top Chef showcased the charm and ingredients of the city’s cultural and culinary fame, another culinary story was buried just beneath the surface of the Hollywood film set. The pair of 1830s townhouses at 1231-33 Bourbon Street was also once home to two famous and now forgotten French bread bakeries: Chretien's bakery (approximately 1860-1911) and B.C. Francingues bakery (1911-1940).

One hundred years before Top Chef celebrated the glories of New Orleans food, local journalist and tour guide Flo Field highlighted the stories of Chretien's bakery and B.C. Francingues bakery in a 1913 newspaper article on New Orleans bread-making titled “How New Orleans Won Fame as Baker of Finest Bread Outside of France.” Field was a member of a small, vibrant, and short-lived bohemian social circle of writers, artists, journalists, preservationists, and hangers-on who settled in the French Quarter at the end of World War I, immersing themselves in the local scene. In addition to her work as a journalist, Field was also a playwright and the first French Quarter tour guide. [2] Field’s article gives a golden-hued “history of bread-making in Louisiana before the days of modern machinery, when the baker’s craft was a handicraft, indeed – fine loaves made with slave help – a few of the old bakeries still left.” [3] This romanticized and nostalgic story of “old-time” French bread is an example of an enduring narrative of the exceptionality of New Orleans shaped by authors in the post-Civil War years such as George Washington Cable, Lafcadio Hearn, and Lyle Saxon, spotlighting the notion of a disappearing and unique Creole culture. In bread-making, the narrative reinforced the importance of traditions begun in French and Spanish colonial New Orleans over other influences, including African, indigenous, and American.

In 1846, Eugene Chretien, owner of the earlier bakery, arrived in New Orleans from France at the age of twenty-two, coinciding with a population boom in the city. Records show that Chretien’s Bakery produced bread from before the Civil War until early in the 1900s. 1860 census records list Chretien as a baker located on Dumaine Street. [4] By 1865, Chretien appeared in the City Directory on Bourbon Street and was one of seventy bakers operating. [5] Field describes Chretien's bakery as one of the best bread bakeries of the time and tells the story of "Papa Jim," a formerly enslaved baker who worked for Chretien, lived nearby and trained multiple bakers. The 1860 census does not include Eugene Chretien's slave-holding records. But Field provides a glimpse at other antebellum bakeries that exploited enslaved labor, such as D’Aquin bakery, Bouny bakery, and Poincy bakery.

By 1867, the City Directory lists 170 bakeries in operation, more than double the number of bakeries just two years prior. [6] Chretien’s bakery was part of a vibrant neighborhood economy, operating “a flour warehouse, bread store, bakery and stable.” [7] In the early 1900s, bakeries often baked and delivered bread several times a day, both to homes and businesses. A former French Quarter resident recalled Chretien's bakery delivering long loaves of freshly baked bread daily to neighboring homes. [8] Gaston Alciatore, son of Antoine’s restaurant founder Antoine Alciatore, married into the Chretien family and is listed in census records as a baker at the same address as Chretien’s. It is possible that Chretien’s bakery also supplied the famous Antoine’s restaurant with its French bread.

In 1911, Bernard Francingues, another francophone, took over Chretien’s Bakery. The 1913 Field article described the manual labor of bread-making inside Francingues’ bakery: from mixing in long troughs to kneading, molding loaves, and baking in brick ovens -- methods similar to those presently revived as part of the artisan bread movement. Field provides rare photos from the Francingues bakery of the ovens and some of the lost loaves of bread from one hundred years ago. In the early twentieth century, before widespread industrialization, popular types of bread in New Orleans included pain chapeau (cap bread), pain tresse (French twist), flute (old-style French bread), loaf bread, and frog loaves (small rolls). While some people today may remember a few of these lost styles of bread, most only know today's New Orleans French bread style.

In 1942, the Francingues family transferred ownership of the Bourbon Street property to La Societe’ des Dames Hospitalieres, an organization founded after the Civil War that owned several properties and housed indigent war widows. The building later became a nursing home, active until Hurricane Katrina in 2005. In 2010, developers renovated the site as luxury residences. The French Quarter has long been the symbol and epicenter of New Orleans. The property at 1231-33 Bourbon Street is an example of the layers of history found within the Vieux Carre. The transformation of the property – from bakery to reality television film set also reveals an intriguing chapter in the story of New Orleans French bread and the development of the French Quarter as a tourist destination.

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St. Louis Cemetery #1 on Basin Street, once outside the city limits, is the oldest existing cemetery in New Orleans. Towering above-ground tombs remind visitors of New Orleans’ high water table and French heritage. It is in this cemetery that our Vodou Queen Marie Laveau rests in her eternal slumber.

On June 15, 1881, while in her bed at her St. Ann Street cottage, surrounded by family and community members, including her only surviving child Marie Philomene, Marie Laveau passed away. Her family members would have seen to the adherence of Creole mourning traditions, such as covering mirrors and placing a black wreath on the front door. Augustin Lamonthe, a border at Laveau’s St. Ann home, reported Laveau’s death to the Board of Health. According to the Daily Picayune, many people squeezed into the small home to get a last look at the much loved and revered woman. Father Hyacinth Mignot conducted Laveau’s funeral and according to the Picayune, “her remains were followed to the grave by a large concourse of people, the most prominent and the most humble joining in paying their last respects to the dead.” [1]

Despite some WPA interviewees and later researchers insisting Marie Laveau was buried in a wall vault in St. Louis Cemetery #2, archival records show that Marie is buried in her family vault in St. Louis Cemetery #1. Joining her husband Christophe Glapion, her children, grandchildren, and other family members, Marie is entombed in the middle vault of the Laveau-Glapion family tomb. [2] Later, in 1897, Marie Philomene would join her family in the tomb. [3]

Almost immediately after Marie Laveau’s death, devotees began to perform pilgrimages to her tomb to leave offerings and ask for petitions. Raymond Rivaros and Ayola Cruz, sextons of St. Louis Cemetery #1 in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, mentioned how visitors came “almost daily to make offerings to Marie’s spirit. They make crosses with red brick, charcoal, and sharp rocks.” Visitors would leave cooked foods, cakes, flowers, pineapples, and would, “knock three times on the marble slab…” [4] These traditions continue today, although the tradition of making crosses and Xs on her tomb with brick have caused great damage to the tomb over the years and has come under criticism by preservationist and true Vodou adherents alike. On December 24, 2013, upon opening the cemetery gates, workers and visitors discovered Laveau’s tomb was painted pink, covering the traditional whitewash color. The paint was latex, preventing the centuries-old bricks from breathing. Preservationists conducted intense restoration to preserve the tomb, with efforts completed in 2014. After that time, the Archdiocese of New Orleans restricted visits into the cemetery to approved tour groups to deter vandalism. [5] In response to the cemetery’s increased restrictions, artist Ricardo Pustanio and Vodou priestess Sallie Ann Glassman created the International Shrine of Marie Laveau. The shrine is located in the lobby of The Healing Center at 2372 St. Claude Avenue and allows visitors to learn about and pay respects to the Vodou queen with less restricted access. [6]

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While Marie Laveau worshipped at Catholic Mass in St. Louis Cathedral, she likely practiced Vodou at Congo Square. While no official documents place Laveau at Congo Square, many eyewitness accounts reported seeing her there. Congo Square is an important site of spirituality in New Orleans and has become associated with Marie Laveau throughout the years.

Congo Square is located in Louis Armstrong Park at the corner of North Rampart and St. Peter streets. For much of its history, Congo Square was not much but a field. Its earliest use was as a public market space where people could sell wares or services. Enslaved Africans during the French colonial era were exempt from work on Sundays as codified in the Code Noir. On Sundays, enslaved people would participate in the market to gain personal money. It was in this meeting place that Africans and Afro-Creoles began to dance and perform their African culture, drawing the ever-curious eyes of Europeans and Americans. [1]

While no official records place Marie Laveau at Congo Square, it is very likely she had been there numerous times throughout her life. Catherine Henry, Laveau’s grandmother, earned money as a marchande, or street vendor, and probably frequented the markets at Congo Square with her young granddaughter in tow. Numerous WPA interviewees discussed Marie Laveau’s role in leading Congo Square dances on Sunday afternoon. One interview stated, “She come walkin’ into Congo Square wit’ her head up in the air like a queen. Her skirts swished when she walked and everybody step back to let her pass. All the people-white and colored- start sayin’ that’s the most powerful woman they is. They say, ‘There goes Marie Laveau!” [2] Another interviewee stated, “Sometimes them policemans tried to keep Marie Laveau out, but she jest hypnotized ‘em and walked in. She could do that to anybody what got in her way. I seen her make polices get down and bark like dogs.” [3]

Whether or not Marie Laveau led dances at Congo Square, this specific square would have held great importance from her. One block away in her home, she would have heard the drums and dancing at Congo Square if she was not already there. As the leader of the Vodou community in New Orleans, Congo Square would have held immense importance to Laveau, as this area was where enslaved people and free people of color could unapologetically celebrate their African heritage, even if just for a few hours. In a society where enslavers purposely repressed the ethnic and religious heritage of enslaved people, Congo Square was where many people learned about their African roots.

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Marie Laveau’s home once stood on the site of present-day 1020 and 1022 St. Ann Street. Marguerite Darcantel, Laveau’s mother, and Catherine Henry, Laveau’s grandmother, raised Marie Laveau at the property. Marie Laveau went on to raise her own family in the same house and often opened the building up to those in need.

The story of how Marie Laveau obtained her house is an example of how myth often supersedes fact. Many attribute Laveau’s homeownership to her Vodou abilities. According to one legend, a wealthy man petitioned Laveau for help. The man’s son was accused of murder and lawyers said the case was hopeless. The man asked Laveau for his son’s freedom and in payment, he would grant Laveau a house on St. Ann Street. In preparation for the trial, Laveau spent weeks praying to Vodou loa (spirits) and Catholic saints in St. Louis Cathedral. While in prayer, Laveau held guinea peppers, which are extremely spicy, in her mouth. When the spirits saw this willingness to suffer, they heard her intention. On the morning of the trial, Laveau placed the guinea peppers under the judge’s seat. The man’s son was proclaimed innocent and Marie gained the house on St. Ann. [1]

Laveau’s actual acquisition of the house is a less thrilling tale. The cottage on St. Ann Street (numbered 179 St. Ann from 1823-1861 and 152 St. Ann after 1861) was built for Catherine Henry, Marie Laveau’s grandmother, sometime after she purchased the lot in 1798. After Catherine Henry’s death, the legal heirs to the cottage, consisting of Marie Laveau and her cousins, decided to sell the cottage to pay their grandmother’s expenses. Jean Louis Christophe Duminy de Glapion, Leveau’s common-law husband, purchased the property. [2]

Jean Louis Christophe Duminy de Glapion came from a prominent New Orleans family. Glapion was white and American anti-miscegenation laws deemed interracial marriages illegal. [3] In order to circumnavigate these laws, Glapion deeded the cottage to the minor children he and Marie produced, giving everyone in the family the legal right to live there. At times, Glapion claimed he was a mulatre, or of mixed race. [4]

Glapion and Laveau had seven children together, Marie Heloise Euchariste (1827-1862), Marie Louise (1829-1829), Christophe (1831-1831), Jean Baptiste (1832-1832), Francois Maurice (1833-1834), Marie Philomene (1836-1897), and Archange Edouard (1839-1845). Only Marie Heloise and Marie Philomene lived to adulthood, both of whom produced children who were also raised in the St. Ann cottage. [5]

Not only did Marie Laveau raise her family in this cottage, but it was also her workspace and a safe haven for many in need. Journalists recorded the house to be simple, but elaborate altars decorated the interior. [6] People interviewed by the WPA Federal Writers Project mentioned altars with statues of saints, animal parts, and effigies in Laveau’s cottage. WPA Interviewees also mentioned how Laveau opened her home to orphans and allowed Choctaw vendors to shelter there. [7]

Like many Creole women in New Orleans, the home was the center of Laveau’s life. The cottage at St. Ann was an ancestral home where Laveau’s grandmother defied a patriarchal and racist society by buying her own home and raising her family. Laveau raised her own family here. Glapion, their children, and Laveau herself passed away in this home. The cottage was demolished in 1903, and the current structure at 1020 St. Ann marks the approximate location of her home. [8]

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Marie Laveau was born September 10, 1801, to Marguerite Darcantel and Charles Laveaux, both free people of color. New Orleans had a sizable population of free people of color, due in part to Spanish colonial law that allowed enslaved people to save money and purchase their own freedom. [1] Six days after her birth, Pere Antoine baptized Laveau at St. Louis Cathedral. The baptismal record labeled Laveau as a mulatresse, meaning she had African and European ancestry. Charles Laveaux is not listed as Marie Laveau’s father on the baptism certificate, likely because he and Marguerite were not married at the time of Marie Laveau's birth, but he later claimed Marie Laveau as a natural heir in his will. [2] Marie Laveau’s mother and her grandmother Catherine Henry, who was born enslaved but later purchased her own freedom, were her primary caregivers. [3]

On August 4, 1819, Marie Laveau married Jacques Paris, an émigré from St. Domingue-Haiti, at St. Louis Cathedral. Once again, Pere Antoine performed the sacrament. [4] For years, many believed this marriage produced no children, but the recent discovery of baptism certificates reveal Paris and Laveau had two daughters, Felicite (born 1817, baptized 1824) and Marie Angelie (born 1822, baptized 1823). No other historical documents mention Felicite or Marie Angelie, and it is presumed that they died in childhood. [5] Around 1824, Jacques Paris disappeared from the historical record. Researchers have not found a death certificate or any immigration records, although Felicite’s baptismal records note he was deceased. Marie Laveau became known as the Widow Paris. [6]

Despite her practice of Vodou, Marie Laveau was a devout Catholic. All of her children were baptized at St. Louis Cathedral, and she was a frequent visitor for Mass. In the words of her daughter Marie Philomene, “besides being charitable, Marie was also very pious and took delight in strengthening the allegiance of souls to the church.” [7] (Long, 23) Marie worked closely with Pere Antoine, encouraging her followers to fill the pews of the cathedral on Sundays, working to heal the sick from yellow fever and other ailments, and also visiting prisoners, especially those condemned to death. [8]

Despite being the Vodou Queen of New Orleans, it is no doubt that Marie Laveau was a devout Catholic. While this may seem contradictory to many, this speaks directly to the syncretic nature of Vodou, blending African beliefs and Catholic practices. Vodou is an Afro-syncretic religion, blending elements of West and Central African religion, Native American spirituality, and European Catholicism. In the 18th and 19th centuries, when enslavers trafficked West African peoples to the Americas, they banned enslaved people from practicing their traditional religions. In Louisiana and some parts of the Caribbean, enslavers forced enslaved people to undergo Catholic baptism. In order to continue to practice their traditional religion, while avoiding punishment or death from French and Spanish enslavers, Africans used elements of Catholicism to “mask” their religious practices. The Father of Catholicism’s Holy Trinity came to represent the African deity Vodu. The intermediate spirits, called loa in Vodou, correlated to the various saints of the Catholic Church. The precious rituals and miracle-working relics of the Catholic Church would have been somewhat familiar to Africans, who had specific religious ceremonies and spirit-embodying charms on their ancestral continent. This blending of religions occurred across the New World, with different Afro-syncretic religions appearing across the Americas, including Santeria in Cuba, Vodou in Haiti, and Candomble in Brazil. While each of these religions differs from one another, they all share the similar origin of enslaved Africans pursuit of religious survival. [9]

While New Orleans Vodou differs in ways from Haitian Vodou, such as not having structured initiation and containing heavier Catholic influences, the African roots are essential in understanding both religions. Laveau’s influence on New Orleans Vodou is also essential to understanding the differences between these two religions. Laveau was not the first or last leader of Vodou in New Orleans, but her influence on New Orleans Vodou can still be seen today through the practice of public rituals at Congo Square and home, the annual ritual on St. John’s Eve on Bayou St. John, and the incorporation of Catholicism into theology. [10]

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For over 70 years, visitors and locals alike have considered Brennan’s Restaurant one of the French Quarter’s top-dining locations. In 1946, New Orleans native Owen Brennan founded the restaurant and since then, Brennan’s has specialized in fine Creole dining. Creole-style cooking originated in Louisiana, and is influenced by a mix of cultures such as French, Spanish, and Haitian.

Originally, Owen Brennan opened his establishment on Bourbon Street, directly across the Old Absinthe House. As business grew, in 1956 Brennan’s moved to its current location at 417 Royal Street. The pink Vieux Carré building, dating back to 1795, was the site of the Louisiana State Bank and former home of chess-master Paul Morphy. Morphy resided here until his death in 1884. In 1920 the building was given to Tulane University, who in 1954 leased the location to the Brennan family. The family then purchased the building in 1984.

Brennan’s is credited for the creation of many dishes, including the New Orleans classic flaming dessert, Bananas Foster. One night in 1951, Ella Brennan created the dish – bananas, butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, rum, banana liqueur, and ice cream – in honor of New Orleans Crime Commission chairman Richard Foster. Brennan’s is also known for its popular “Breakfast at Brennan’s,” and has become a sought-after brunch location for tourists and locals.

The Bloody Bull cocktail, a relative to the popular Bloody Mary, originated at Brennan’s in the 1950s. The Bloody Bull puts a spin on the original cocktail by including beef broth in the recipe:

- 1-1/2 ounces vodka

- Dash of fresh orange juice

- 4 dashes of tobacco

- Dash of pepper

- 3 ounces beef broth

- 2 ounces tomato juice

- Garnish with orange peel

Aside from its culinary history, Brennan’s also has played a role in New Orleans political history as well. The restaurant is said to be the location where New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison and businessman Clay Shaw, the man he would later accuse of conspiring in the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, first crossed paths. According to witnesses, both were dining at Brennan’s separately, when Garrison began to argue with his wife. After raising his voice at her, Clay Shaw stood up to stop the fight. Supposedly, Shaw approached the District Attorney and stated “Garrison, behave yourself.”

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The Morales-Arlington’s tomb once held one of New Orleans most notorious madams, Josie Arlington, from the city’s equally notorious red light district, Storyville. Arlington's reputation and the tomb she created for herself have attracted visitors and locals alike, from the time of her burial until today, when some observers say they have caught a glimpse of lights dancing around her mausoleum -- Josie Arlington, trying to get back into her grave.

Sometime around 1910, Josie Arlington purchased a cemetery plot at Metairie Cemetery for $2,000. The idea that a retired proprietor of a house of ill repute would eventually be laid to rest amongst some of the city’s elite outraged many. However, Arlington wasted no time after her purchase of the plot to begin work on her memorial. On May 11, 1911, she signed a contract with sculptor Albert Weiblen to create her final resting place. Arlington wanted it to make a statement about herself, spending a whopping $5,500, and personally selecting every last detail. Once finished, the public immediately began to read meaning into the tomb’s design, seeing it as a symbol of her life in prostitution. The reddish-brown granite was said to represent the red light district of Storyville and the fire torches to represent her chosen profession. Some have seen the bronze female statue as symbolizing a virgin’s doomed attempt to enter Arlington’s brothel. Others have suggested the statue represents Josie as a young girl, sneaking back into her father's house. What Josie saw in the statue of the girl we will never know – we just know that she purchased it from Munich, Germany.

On February 14, 1914, Arlington took her last breath and was laid to rest in her tomb. She did not enjoy its amenities for long, however. Only a month after Josie's death, her family began fighting over her money and property, which amounted to over $50,000. Arlington's family was forced to sell not only her mansion on Esplanade Avenue, but her tomb as well. The tomb was sold to Jose A. Morales, a New Orleans attorney. Under cover of night, Metairie Cemetery officials removed Josie Arlington's remains to a remote, undisclosed location in the cemetery. The name at the top of the tomb was changed to J. A. Morales and was soon occupied by Morales’s wife and four children.

The fight over Arlington’s estate and the removal of her remains created heated local discussion and headlines in local newspapers. Crowds were drawn to the tomb, and once a flashing red traffic light was installed on the New Basin Shell Road that ran alongside the cemetery, the crowds grew even bigger, as the red light reflected off the reddish granite of Arlington's tomb, creating the illusion that the tomb was on fire. As Metairie Cemetery historian Henri Gandolfo wrote, “The red glare flashing on and off added a mysterious sense of drama never intended.” The red light was later removed and a cross was carved on the back of the tomb, calming the crowds. Today, Metairie Cemetery authorities still refuse to divulge the site of Josie Arlington's remains, but her abandoned tomb continues to attract her admirers.

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"Ten thousand Micks/They Swung their picks/To dig th’ New Canawl, But the choleray was stronger’n they/And twice it killed them awl"

And with that ditty, published in the Times-Picayune of July 18, 1937, the lore was born that thousands upon thousands of Irish died in New Orleans digging the New Basin Canal (NBC) in the 1830s.

As with many stories in New Orleans, this one, too, is a mix of truth and fiction. The facts are that in 1831, the New Orleans Canal and Banking company raised funds to build a new canal connecting the “American Sector” (CBD) with Lake Pontchartrain. Compared to other canals, the NBC was modest, only 6 miles long and completed in fewer than four years. As with most building projects, the number of laborers varied throughout its construction.

So how did this grim myth come about? Notably, none of the contemporary newspaper contained reports of such a catastrophe. Moreover, the city’s population in the 1830s and the short building period, defy these numbers: there were simply not enough Irish in, or coming to, the city for such numbers to die in only 4 years. Most likely, the myth was nourished by the devastating cholera epidemic of 1832-33 which killed several thousand New Orleanians, including Irish canal workers.

Rather than mass Irish deaths, the press, instead, reported Irish actions on wage disputes and breaches of contractual promises. For instance, Irish workers published their grievances in an open letter in the Louisiana Advertiser, demonstrating their solidarity and proto-union organization when confronting unacceptable work conditions. Among other complaints, the letter accused their contractors, of “having sold them as redemptioners” and protested the excessive prices at the company store. Moreover, the striking Irish laborers objected to the contractor describing them as “a turbulent and disobedient set of men, because we do not tamely submit to the numberless acts of injustice.” Their own characterization as ‘not tamely submit[ting]’ makes it virtually impossible that the Irish would have remained silent about tens of thousands of deaths during the canal’s construction.

Instead of a story of tragedy, the NBC is testimony to Irish strength and defiance. Many of the canal workers soon became their own construction bosses in New Orleans, directing many of the city’s projects during this heyday of building. Furthermore, employment conditions in the antebellum were training grounds for the Irish men and women who later dominated the leadership ranks of the local and national unions in the latter 19th and 20th century.

The story of the New Basin Street Canal is story of defiance and triumph, not victimhood. It should be commemorated as such.

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Harriet Martineau, Saxe Weimar, and numerous other antebellum writers described New Orleans free women of color as promiscuous, seductive characters who sought partnerships with wealthy white men so they could live a life of leisure. Indeed, Dorothée Lassize had a partnership with a wealthy, white, Protestant man, which conforms to this fantastical description. However, she was no licentious harlot, but rather an enterprising businesswoman in New Orleans’ booming nineteenth century economy. Dorothée married Samuel Moore, the son of Alexander Moore, an Irish immigrant who migrated to the United States in the mid-eighteenth century. Samuel administered sales of timber from Natchez and became a small time slave trader, but his main source of income was buying and selling New Orleans real estate. He took full advantage of the city’s rapid growth in the early nineteenth century, buying and selling properties at a torrid pace. Samuel and his partner Dorothée, combined, bought and sold over fifty properties in New Orleans and raised a family of seven children. The couple never legally married but remained together for life and had seven children. The baptismal records show that Samuel and Dorothée went to great lengths to establish white identities for their children. The baptismal records for daughters Sara Virginia and Maria Camille are recorded in the St. Louis cathedral register reserved for slaves and free people of color, while the other five children were recorded under the section for people of unmixed European descent. In the case of Samuel Jr. and Urania, Samuel Moore signs as the father but the name of their mother, free woman of color Dorothée, is omitted. It was common at this time for fathers of bi-racial children to leave their name off the record, but Samuel’s involvement shows that he wanted to permanently link himself to his children. On the contrary, Dorothée’s name was left off of Samuel Jr.’s and Urania’s records in order to establish their whiteness.   Samuel Moore and Dorothée’s main business was buying and selling of property in New Orleans French Quarter. They flipped houses on Chartres, Conti and Burgundy Streets, among many others. Dorothée’s most famous sale was her successful petition to sell two properties on Dauphine Street, using the profits to buy herself a stately townhouse on St. Louis Street. Of the free people of color who owned property, women make up 70% of the total people in the records. The 1820 census includes 607 free women of color listed as the head of their households. While some of these women acquired property through marriages, others represented themselves in buying and selling real estate. In situations in which free women of color have acquired wealth through their white husbands, historians have inaccurately depicted them as promiscuous golddiggers. In fact, this thinking reflects patriarchal thinking that discounts the limited power of free women of color who were often only given a few options, none of which didn’t include some kind of compromise of autonomy. Kimberly Hanger writes, “Free black women fought daily oppression and sought to assert their identity, in part by striving to attain what was important to them: freedom for themselves, friends, and relatives: stable, long-lasting unions that produced children and cemented kin networks; prosperity for themselves and future generations; and respect as hardworking, religious members of the community. In most cases, they faced an uphill battle.” In many significant ways, Dorothée’s life rejects stereotypes of free women of color. Samuel Moore’s lifelong commitment to Dorothée Lassize defied the plaçage stereotype, in which white men only entered into relationships with women of color as their mistresses, often buying them property in secret, and disassociating from them and their children in public records.  Dorothée’s daughters Eulalie Allain and Charlotte Eugenie married free men of color, unions that stand in contrast to Martineau’s claim that free women of color raised their daughters to seduce rich white men. Before her death, Dorothée wrote a thirty nine page will, a testament to her financial success in life. Her carefully inventoried estate includes a number of valuable properties and the following enslaved persons: Felicité, a 27 year old enslaved woman for sale for $1100 Henriette, an enslaved woman for sale for $1100 An unnamed enslaved girl of 13 years for $660 George, Henriette’s brother, 16 years old, $870 Charles, 7 years old, sold to Samuel Moore for $300 Benny, an enslaved woman of 60 years of age, also sold to Samuel Moore for $370 Mary, an enslaved “African” of 48 years of age for $300 Total: $3600 ($93,000 today) As the population of free people of color increased in the second and third decades of the 19th century, they purchased not just real estate but enslaved persons as well. There were a plentitude of reasons why free people of color might get involved in the slave trade, but the majority are business-related. During the early 19th century, New Orleans was the largest slave market in the South, and any person in the Vieux Carré couldn’t turn a corner without seeing or hearing about an enslaved person for sale. If you could gather the considerable wealth needed to purchase someone, most considered buying an enslaved individual a good investment.

Furthermore, many free people of color’s families had lived in a three caste system for many generations, either in Louisiana or St. Domingue. The only new change for them would be the new American regulations that prohibited any kind of fluidity through aforementioned coartación or manumission. Despite the possibility of owning enslaved people in the free black community, the seven expensive people in bondage listed in Dorothée’s will denote her as an unusually lucrative female entrepreneur.

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Many visitors to New Orleans are familiar with the song “The House of the Rising Sun,” made popular by the English band The Animals in 1967. The song itself has roots far back in English folk balladry, long before any association with New Orleans. While many places in New Orleans have made claims to be the ‘Rising Sun’, archaeological investigations at 535 Conti Street, a place identified in documentary records as the location of the “Rising Sun Hotel” in the 1820s, have added just a bit more information to the debate over the origins of the New Orleans variation of the song.   In 2005, an archaeological investigation took place at 535-537 Conti Street as a joint project between the Historic New Orleans Collection, Earth Search, Inc., and the University of Chicago, led by Dr. Shannon Dawdy. According to census records and other archival data, multiple renditions of boarding houses and hotels existed on this site through the latter part of the eighteenth and into the nineteenth century. While the association of the lot with the ‘Rising Sun’ garnered the most attention, archaeologists identified material remains of a rich history spanning many eras of occupation at the site.   Prehistoric Native American Settlement Dawdy and her team found Native American pottery sherds in layers predating the French settlement of the city, thus providing direct evidence for indigenous occupation of the natural levee in the French Quarter area. While there is no record of a Native American encampment in this area, Iberville’s journal notes that members of a Quinipissa village would walk from the mouth of Bayou St. John to the Mississippi River, as a connection to Lake Pontchartrain, presumably passing by this site.    1730 – The Mandeville Family The first recorded French occupation of the site dates back to the early 1730s.  The Mandeville family owned the property, and it is believed they used the site as a garden based on the abundance of organic material found during excavation, including crushed shell and coral used as fertilizer. Census records from 1726 indicate the Mandevilles enslaved two African people and one Native American person while they owned the Conti Street property. Archaeology from this period has been used to inform researchers about sustenance patterns in the early French colony.   1760 - 1820 The Chabot Women & The First Rising Sun Hotel Between 1760 and 1790, the house switched ownership multiple times and the property was subdivided into lots, which were later rejoined.  In 1791, a man named Louis McCarty purchased the property and all extant structures, but a fire destroyed it in 1794.  Following this fire, a wooden structure was rebuilt and the property was sold to an Irish immigrant woman named Madame Margaret Clark Chabot shortly after her French husband died. The title transfer document from August 22, 1796, states that Ms. Chabot was illiterate when she purchased the property already owning the materials needed to run a boarding house, including multiple walnut tables, 5 dozen chairs, and 25 new mattresses.  Ms. Chabot owned the property for approximately 28 years, and under her management, the boarding house shows up in a number of historical accounts.   In 1821, L.S. Hotchkiss and Co. purchased an advertisement in the Louisiana Gazette for a “Rising Sun Hotel” on Conti Street. The ad claims that the new Rising Sun Hotel would maintain the best entertainment, “which this house has enjoyed for twenty years past,” referring to Chabot’s period of ownership. With the modern association of the ‘Rising Sun’ with prostitution, some of the language of the ad sounds suggestive, as it states things like “Gentlemen may here relay upon finding attentive servants.” However, Rising Sun was actually a common name for taverns in the eighteenth and nineteenth century. The Rising Sun Hotel burned to the ground in a catastrophic fire in 1822. It was replaced with a new, more upscale brick hotel, referred to variously as the Richardson Hotel, the Conti Hotel, and the Veranda Hotel. Later, the building was reused for various commercial ventures, before falling into disrepair after another fire in the late nineteenth century.   The different fires that affected the lot made it possible to stratigraphically separate different periods of occupation at the property in some detail. Artifacts from the 1822 Rising Sun Hotel fire were of particular interest, as they included fancy glass tableware, wine bottles, items of jewelry and personal adornment, and numerous tin-enameled rouge pots or galley pots. Such items initially suggested that there might be a connection between the hotel and sex work, as high incidences of rouge pots have elsewhere been associated with brothel assemblages. However, other corroborating historical evidence is lacking, and Dawdy and Weyhing have noted that cosmetics like rouge was as associated with single men and ‘dandyism’ as with women in the 1820s.  

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Maspero’s Exchange, also known as Maspero’s Coffee House and now called the “Original Pierre Maspero’s,” is located at 440 Chartres Street, on the corner of St. Louis and Chartres Streets, nearest the river and Canal Street. The original 1788 house at this address was destroyed in the 1794 fire. The present structure was allegedly built between 1795 and 1810. According to the National Park Service, it was originally known as the Exchange Coffee House, and it served as a meeting place for planters, merchants, and privateers.

In a room on the second floor at Maspero’s, Andrew Jackson reputedly planned the defense of New Orleans with Jean Lafitte in late 1814. Many New Orleanians believed that Jean and Pierre Lafitte used the second floor for their headquarters. Both Maspero’s Exchange and the Absinthe House have disputed over the years where Andrew Jackson met with Jean Lafitte before the Battle of New Orleans. Both historic buildings claim the distinction.

In 1950, the owner of Maspero’s Exchange filed suit against the Absinthe House over the right to post a historical plaque on the building. That same year the Absinthe House installed a marker which read: “Old Absinthe House. Legend has it that Andrew Jackson and Gov. W.C.C. Claiborne met here with Jean Lafittte on the secret floor to plan for the defense of New Orleans. The Battle of New Orleans was fought Jan. 8, 1815.” In February 1951, a Judge in Civil District Court, Parish of Orleans, State of Louisiana, dismissed Maspero’s lawsuit, ruling: “Legend means nothing more than hearsay or a story handed down from the past.” Both Maspero’s and Absinthe House still lay claim to the legend.

In the early 1900s, only a small wrought iron balcony appeared on the St. Louis Street side. Later in the 20th century, a cast iron gallery was added to the Chartres Street side.

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The Old Absinthe House, a stucco building at the corner of Bourbon and Bienville Streets, is one of the oldest structures in New Orleans, dating to approximately 1806.

In the nineteenth century, the Old Absinthe House became famous for its cocktail, the absinthe frappe, also known as the “green monster,” a mixture of absinthe and sugar water. On October 1, 1912, the U.S. Government banned the importation and sale of absinthe, alleging it was “dangerous to health.” Interstate shipment of the beverage was prohibited since it contained “wormwood, or absinthe (artemisia absinthium), an added deleterious ingredient.” Prohibition of absinthe was predicted to be the Old Absinthe House’s “death knell.”

Legend suggests that Major General Andrew Jackson conferred with privateer Jean Lafitte in a secret chamber on the second floor of the Old Absinthe House prior to the Battle of New Orleans. In 1950, the Old Absinthe House installed a commemorative plaque, stating: “Old Absinthe House. Legend has it that Andrew Jackson and Gov. W.C.C. Claiborne met here with Jean Lafitte on the secret floor to plan for the defense of New Orleans. The Battle of New Orleans was fought Jan. 8, 1815.”

The owner of Maspero’s Exchange at 440 Chartres Street filed suit against the Old Absinthe House over the right to post the historical plaque on the building. Both establishments claimed to be the location where Andrew Jackson had met with Jean Lafitte. In February 1951, a Judge in Civil District Court, Parish of Orleans, State of Louisiana, dismissed Maspero’s lawsuit, ruling: “Legend means nothing more than hearsay or a story handed down from the past.” Both Maspero’s and Old Absinthe House still lay claim to the legend.

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For many years, a bar called “Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop” has occupied this building at the corner of Bourbon Street and St. Philip Street. Designated as a National Historic Landmark in 1970, Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop was built between 1772 and 1791 as “a French Colonial Louis XV townhouse of briquette-entre-poteaux construction.”

Legend suggests that Jean Lafitte and his brother Pierre Lafitte operated a blacksmith shop here as a “front” for selling goods and enslaved people they plundered on the high seas. However, author Stanley Clisby Arthur, who also served as regional director of the Survey of Federal Archives during the Depression, discovered that the name “Lafitte” never appeared in any of the property records for this structure. In his 1936 book Old New Orleans, Arthur concluded that the name “Lafitte” was misspelled and should have been spelled “Laffite”:

New Orleans’ notarial records, however, are literally filled with thousands of sales of enslaved people by brother Pierre. Jean’s signature appears only occasionally, but in each case, the surname is spelled “Laffite” [and not “Lafitte,” which is the orthodox spelling] by the signatory.

In addition to this French Quarter location, the Lafittes resided on Barataria, an island located in Barataria Bay close to Grand Isle, Louisiana. This island was also called Grand Terre.

Jean and Pierre Lafitte and their privateers assisted Jackson and the Americans at the Battle of New Orleans. The Baratarians, as Jean Lafitte and his followers were called, had been approached by British officials to act as allies and waterway guides. Acting as leader of the "Frenchmen of Barataria," Jean Lafitte advised American authorities of the British offer, ultimately securing from Jackson promises of amnesty for past offenses in return for siding with the United States and committing his men to battle. Louisiana Governor William C.C. Claiborne eventually offered Jean Lafitte and his men a full pardon “should their conduct in the Field meet the approbation of Major General Jackson.” Before reaching that settlement, several complicating factors characterized the exchanges between Claiborne and Lafitte.

On September 4, 1814, Lafitte wrote Jean Blanque, a member of the Louisiana House of Representatives, informing him of the British offer and including copies of the British correspondence. In exchange, Lafitte asked for the release of his brother Pierre who was locked up in the Calaboose, or city prison. Lafitte also wrote to Governor Claiborne, offering his services and those of his men to defend New Orleans. Lafitte asked Claiborne for a pardon for him and his men. “I am the stray sheep, wishing to return to the sheepfold,” he wrote.

Claiborne and his defense council voted to refuse Lafitte’s offer of assistance. The United States revenue officer insisted that Lafitte be removed from Barataria and his operations shut down. Coincidentally, Lafitte’s brother Pierre escaped from prison on September 6, 1814.

Less than two weeks later, on September 16, 1814, the Carolina, an American schooner with 14 guns under command of Commodore Daniel Patterson, and six gunboats left New Orleans, sailed down the Mississippi River and attacked Grand Terre, Lafitte’s headquarters. Lafitte's men, not knowing if the attacking fleet was British or American, took battle stations. The Carolina raised a flag offering pardon for deserters. The Baratarians abandoned their vessels without resistance. The Americans seized 8 ships, 20 cannons, and an estimated $500,000 worth of goods and captured 80 Baratarians, but not Jean and Pierre Lafitte.

General Andrew Jackson originally described Lafitte as a “hellish banditti.” However, Jackson finally accepted Lafitte’s help in December 1814 because of the ammunition, cannoneers, and knowledge of the area Lafitte could supply. The expert cannon fire of Jackson’s troops, including Lafitte’s Baratarians, contributed to the American victory over the British at the Battle of New Orleans on January 8, 1815. So impressed with the artillery skills of Baratarian Dominique You at Battery No. 3, Jackson reportedly stated before the Battle: “I wish I had fifty such guns on this line, with five hundred such devils as those fellows are at their butts.”

On February 6, 1815, President Madison issued a Proclamation, granting a full pardon to Jean Lafitte and the Baratarians for their role in the defense of New Orleans, stating in part: “Offenders, who have refused to become the associates of the enemy in the war, upon the most seducing terms of invitation; and who have aided to repel his hostile invasion of the territory of the United States; can no longer be considered as objects of punishment, but as objects of a generous forgiveness.”

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Journalist and explorer Henry Morton Stanley, who coined the now-famous phrase “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” during his travels, spent formative years in New Orleans. The origins of Henry Morton Stanley's persona are under much debate, but there is no doubt that New Orleans played a crucial role in the development of the legend surrounding the famous Welsh-born explorer.

In the early spring of 1859, 18-year-old Welsh cabin boy John Rowlands began to transform into Henry Morton Stanley when he arrived in New Orleans. As he later claimed in his controversial and mistake-riddled autobiography, Rowlands felt “emancipated” from the class oppression of his native Wales after disembarking from The Windermere onto the docks of New Orleans and overlooking the great Mississippi River for the first time.

Rowlands first meal in New Orleans consisted of “Okra soup, grits, sweet potatoes, brinjalls, corn pones, mush pudding and fixings.” After spending the night sleeping on cotton bales, Rowlands made his way up Canal Street where he came across Speake & McCreary’s wholesale store and warehouse at No. 3 Tchoupitoulas. Noticing a gentleman sitting outside the store reading a newspaper, Rowlands supposedly approached him and inquired about employment.

The gentleman was Henry Hope Stanley, a wealthy local cotton merchant who, according to Henry Morton Stanley’s story, recommended that James Speake, the store’s proprietor, hire John Rowlands as an employee. Speake hired Stanley and the father-son relationship between Rowlands and Henry Hope Stanley progressed until Rowlands became like an adopted son to Stanley. Stanley having once been a religious minister, re-baptized Rowlands, saying, “in the future you are to bear my name, Henry Stanley.” Some historians, including Tim Jeal, have speculated that there is no truth to Henry Morton’s adoption story, while others assert that the two did have a relationship. The depth of Stanley and Rowlands' relationship has also been subject to speculation.

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Walking out of Jackson Square toward St. Louis Cathedral, Pirate’s Alley appears on the left, between the Cathedral and the Cabildo. Formerly known as “Orleans Alley,” the passage is one block long, extending from Chartres Street at Jackson Square to Royal Street. Halfway down the alley, a lamppost marks its intersection with Cabildo Alley, which extends (the width of the Cabildo) to St. Peter Street.

Much legend swirls around Pirate’s Alley and its location between the original Spanish prison and the Cathedral. One legend maintains that pirates traveled this alley to enter the town from the Mississippi River. Another suggests that pirates and other criminals were often seen being escorted to the prison via this route.

The Arsenal at 600 St. Peter Street stands directly behind the Cabildo. From approximately 1728, the French Guard House and prison occupied the site until destroyed during the Good Friday Fire of March 21, 1788. The Spanish rebuilt the prison, which was destroyed once again by fire in 1793. Two years later, in 1795, Don Andres Almonester y Roxas, who financed and built St. Louis Cathedral and the Cabildo, rebuilt the “Calabozo,” or prison. (Some linguists suggest that the 19th-century American slang term for prison, "calaboose," derives from this Spanish term.)

In 1814, Pierre Lafitte, brother of Jean Lafitte, was imprisoned in chains in the Calabozo, until his escape on September 6, 1814. Even though a thousand dollar reward was offered for his capture, Pierre Lafitte was not apprehended and served honorably at the Battle of New Orleans. The prison was demolished in 1837 to allow for the construction of the Arsenal.

In 1836, the Louisiana legislature passed a bill to construct the “State Armory” or Arsenal on this property, fronting St. Peter and Orleans Streets between Royal and Chartres Streets. From 1846 until the Civil War, the Orleans Artillery occupied the building. After the Union forces captured New Orleans, the Arsenal served as a military prison and Federal headquarters. During the most violent period of Reconstruction, the Metropolitan Police controlled the arsenal until September 14, 1874, when the White League Democrats defeated the Metropolitan Police at the Battle of Liberty Place. The White League prevailed at first, occupying the Cabildo and Arsenal for three days until President Ulysses S. Grant sent in federal troops to restore order. After Reconstruction ended, the building again became the State Arsenal until it was transferred to the Louisiana State Museum on March 15, 1914. The Arsenal was dedicated as “Battle Abbey” for the centennial celebration of the Battle of New Orleans in 1915.

The Creole House, at 701 Chartres Street, and the Jackson House, at 616 Pirate’s Alley, are also both owned by the Louisiana State Museum, but closed to the public. The three-story antebellum houses share a courtyard with the Arsenal and occupy the site of the French Guard House and later the Spanish Calabozo, which was demolished in 1837. Both houses have two-story slave quarters at the rear of their properties.

In 1921, the Louisiana State Museum purchased the Creole House, which at that time was still known as the “Calabozo.” In 1937, the house was formally dedicated as the Creole House or “Maison Creole,” to commemorate a visit by French and Canadian dignitaries. (There is no known historical connection between Andrew Jackson and the Jackson House.)

On May 11, 1988, the Cabildo caught fire, resulting in the closure of the Creole House for repairs. Fortunately, the Creole House was not damaged but was included in the restoration of the Cabildo that followed.

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In April 1814, Mayor Nicolas Girod was serving his first term as mayor of New Orleans when his brother, Clause Francois, died and left him a lot on the corner of Chartres and St. Louis Streets. When he received this plot, he began to build a grand home, a three-and-a-half story townhouse with room for a business and residence.

On May 4, 1814 Napoleon Bonaparte was exiled to the island of Elba. A popular New Orleans legend suggests that once Mayor Girod and a few other Bonaparte supporters heard about the exile they devised a plot to rescue the Emperor. It is believed that Jean Lafitte, Captain St. Ange Bossiere, and Dominique You were all involved in the plot. The plan was to rescue Napoleon from his exile and bring him to New Orleans to live out his remaining years at the Girod Home. 1815 proved to be a bad year for the Mayor and Bonaparte. On September 4th, one year into his second term, Girod resigned as Mayor due to financial troubles. The people of New Orleans then learned that Napoleon escaped the island of Elba on March 1, 1815, but was recaptured and sent to Ste. Helene in exile. Before the Grod and the other Napoleon supporters could execute their supposed plot, Bonaparte died in captivity on May 5, 1821.

Nicholas Girod did not have any children but his extended family lived in the house through the nineteenth century. In the early 1900's the property was owned by a few different people and it eventually became a grocery store.

In 1914, Joseph Impastato started renting the building for $20 a month. He ran a grocery store on the bottom floor while living with his brothers and sisters in the upstairs quarters. In 1920, Joseph bought the property for $14,000. Along with the grocery store, Joseph opened a tavern, which seemed to be favorable to the river workers and local businessmen, serving drinks and playing opera and classical music from his Victrola. [1] Sometime around the end of Prohibition they changed the establishment's name to "Napoleon House." Through the years the property has been owned by a few different members of the Impastato family and remained in the family until 2015 when it was purchased by restaurateur Ralph Brennan. Napoleon House continues to be one of the most famous bars in the nation.

In 1970, Napoleon House was recognized as a National Historic Landmark. It is one of the best examples of a large French colonial townhouse in the country, with a hipped roof, dormers, segmental pediments, an octagonal cupola with views of the river, shallow balconies and elliptical windows. [2] [3]

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The Girod Cemetery was the city's oldest Protestant cemetery, opened by the wardens of Christ Church in 1822. The cemetery had fallen into disrepair by the time most of these photographs were taken. It was deconsecrated and then demolished in 1957. The remains of whites and blacks were relocated to racially segregated cemeteries.

The cemetery stood roughly where the New Orleans Centre shopping mall -- shuttered since the 2005 flood -- exists, between the Superdome and the Hyatt Hotel.

One longstanding, but disproven, myth suggested that the New Orleans Saints football team had been cursed because the field was supposed to have been built on the cemetery grounds. The parking garages of the closed shopping mall and part of an adjacent Superdome garage most likely occupy the former site of the burial grounds.

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Many myths are associated with the "Dueling Oaks." An 1892 Times-Democrat article noted that "Blood has been shed under the old cathedral aisles of nature. Between 1834 and 1844 scarcely a day passed without duels being fought at the Oaks. Why, it would not be strange if the very violets blossomed red of this soaked grass! The lover for his mistress, the gentleman for his honor, the courtier for his King; what loyalty has not cried out in pistol shot and scratch of steel! Sometimes two or three hundred people hurried from the city to witness these human baitings. On the occasion of one duel the spectators could stand no more, drew their swords, and there was a general melee."

One of the frequently referenced duels involved a "European scientist insulting the Mississippi River by calling it ‘but a tiny rill compared to the great rivers of Europe.' A Creole overheard the insult and immediately came to the defense of the river, challenging the scientist to a duel, which the Creole won."

Before the Dueling Oaks became a favorite spot for disrespected Creoles, a frequent dueling site had been St. Anthony's Garden, located behind the St. Louis Cathedral. In 1855, laws against dueling began to be enforced, so most duels moved to the city's outskirts. Some sources claim that the last duel was fought beneath the oaks in 1890, while others contend the last one took place during the first decade of the Twentieth Century.

One of the Dueling Oaks was destroyed by a hurricane in the 1940's. The remaining one is thought to be 300 years old with a height of 70 feet and a girth of 25 feet.

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