The fourth of the six different courthouses that have served Franklinton since 1819. It was built in 1906 and replaced in 1938.

March 2011. Don’t you just love saying sesquicentennial?

It always surprises me when fellow Louisianans are unfamiliar with Franklinton.

In places like New Orleans and Baton Rouge, strangers often respond with a blank stare when I tell them where I live.

Other times they’ll mistake Franklinton for Franklin, the Acadiana town far removed from here both geographically and culturally.
Franklinton, a town of about four thousand people, is the parish seat of Washington Parish—due north of Lake Ponchartrain’s Northshore area. Simply put, we’re the toe of the boot.

Washington Parish was originally part of Spanish West Florida. After the Florida Revolt of 1810, the Florida Parishes became part of the Orleans Territory. Washington Parish was settled mostly by Scotch-Irish farmers and cattlemen who migrated from the Virginia area by way of Mississippi and Georgia.

In 1819, a Georgia-born settler named John Bickham Sr. donated thirty acres for the Washington Parish seat. (There are still two pages of Bickhams in the slim Franklinton phone book.) In 1826, a group of citizens went to ask the state legislature to name the town Franklin (most likely in honor of Benjamin Franklin). Unfortunately, another bunch from across the state had the same idea. A compromise was struck. The other side kept the name Franklin, and our side added the “ton.”

It was not until 1861, however, that Franklinton was officially chartered by an act of the Legislature. That is the anniversary the town will commemorate during its 150th or Sesquicentennial Celebration, March 26 through April 7.

Isolated from French and Creole New Orleans for decades by the pre-causeway Lake Pontchartrain, Franklinton has retained its original flavor. Even today the culture is more English than French, more Baptist than Catholic. Timber, paper mills and, until recently, dairy farming have been the largest employers. Its chief claims to fame are probably the Washington Parish Free Fair, Washington Parish watermelons, the Mile Branch log cabin settlement and the Franklinton High School Demons, the reigning 4A State Football Champions.

Because it is just 12 miles from the state line, my standard quip is Franklinton is closer to Mississippi than it is to New Orleans in more ways than one.

That’s not a put-down. Franklinton is a unique corner of Louisiana with an authentic Southern, small-town atmosphere—not the touristy, manufactured vibe of so many others overtaken by gentrification or desperation. Meat-and-three cafes outnumber coffeehouses and feed stores are more common than bookstores.

But most of all there is a cozy feeling I tend to take for granted until I venture out.

Sooner or later, I find myself eager to get back to “the piney woods.” Franklinton may be a place that the rest of the world has overlooked, but to a few lucky folks, it is the world.

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