People and Their Passions
The creative energy that keeps the state going
In the course of publishing Country Roads we've had the privilege of getting to know hundreds of perfectly ordinary folks, from all walks of life, whose passions drive them to do extraordinary things. Often their creations have profound impact not only for their makers, but also for the communities and the cultures that sustain them. Here are excerpts from a few of our favorite profiles.
"A Means of Escape": Frank McMains, November 2009
Louisiana’s maximum security prison has become, for some of its residents, a place to pursue their talents in the visual arts and handcrafts.
“The last inmate I spoke with, Daryl Falls, was the most enigmatic. He holds a degree from the Audubon Arts Center in drafting, subscribes to Art News, has sold pieces to Russell Brand and Harry Connick, Jr., and will spend the rest of his life in jail for a crime I could not bring myself to ask about. He speaks warmly of a grandmother who bought him paints and art books, about his work in a variety of media, his love of Louisiana and his hometown of New Orleans. Falls effuses appreciation for an aesthetic world that will forever be inside of his head, or at best, inside of this jail.” Read the full article here.
“Boat Builder Faren Serrette:A Life on the Water”: Laura Westbrook, September 1999
The Inuits don’t really have 200 words for snow, but Louisianans do have about a dozen for “small wooden boat adapted to local conditions.”
“In 1984 Faren and Milton Serrette were invited to build examples of traditional Louisiana wooden boats for the World’s Fair in New Orleans. Father and son built a “putt-putt,” so christened for the noise made by its old-fashioned inboard engine. A flat-bottomed long-rake boat, usually twenty to thirty feet long, the putt-putt was one of the first boats to be powered by an inboard motor, and was Milton’s primary means of transportation growing up in Butte LaRose. A large one served as the children’s school bus.” Read the full article here.
“Monument to a People's Rural Past”: Interview by Andrea Alexander, February 2000
Louisiana’s historical and preservation communities have, belatedly but with increasing enthusiasm, worked to tell the stories of all the peoples of Louisiana, not just the elite; Kathe Hambrick, founder of the River Road African American Museum, has been on the front lines of this change. In an interview, Hambrick described challenges in her work.
'I went everywhere looking for a cotton sack. I had people from Texas come in here and say, "I’m gonna send you a cotton sack;" people from Mississippi: "I’m gonna send you a cotton sack,’" Hambrick said with a laugh. 'Well, the day it was declared that black people didn’t have to pick cotton anymore, we must have burned every cotton sack in the state because you cannot find one today, I guarantee you.'” Read the full article here.
“When Harry Met Huey”: Ruth Laney, October 2009
T. Harry Williams' biography on former governor Huey P. Long pioneered the use of oral history, one of the best resources a biographer or folklorist can find; the big problem with people down here is talking so long they run out of tape.
“‘It is no secret that I am a great believer in oral history,’ wrote Williams. ‘Trained researchers using a tape recorder ought to interview people to get the information that is in their heads and no place else.’” Read the full article here.
“A Cracker Jack Collection”: Cheré Coen, December 2016
When he's not pulling together the best book festival in the country, Jim Davis is still finding delights in boxes of Cracker Jacks—and he's not alone.
“Jim Davis, director of the Louisiana Center for the Book in the State Library in Baton Rouge, has an enormous collection of Cracker Jack prizes, lagniappe that were included inside every box of Cracker Jack popcorn and peanuts since the early twentieth century. Davis also became a charter member of the Cracker Jack Collectors Association, created an innovative website for collectors, and has contributed to numerous magazines as well as the book The Cracker Jack Collection: Baseball’s Prized Players, silver winner for the Benjamin Franklin Award of the Independent Book Publishers Association in the sports category.
“‘Cracker Jack brings back memories to everyone of a certain age,’ he said.” Read the full article here.
“From September’s Death to December’s Bloom”: Kristy Christiansen, August 2015
Especially resilient survivors of Katrina, Peggy Martin and her eponymous rose bloom where they're planted.
“In 2005, tragedy struck with Hurricane Katrina. It was the second time in her life that Peggy lost everything; the first time was during Hurricane Betsy in 1965 when she had to swim out of her home. With Katrina, twenty feet of saltwater, marsh mud, and marsh grass covered her property. The water stood for at least three weeks, and then there were three weeks of drought.
“‘Everything died. It just dried up like ash. It looked like Hiroshima. All my beautiful trees were denuded from 150-mile-an-hour winds blowing incessantly for hours,’ remembered Peggy. “‘Then I went back by the shed and I saw dark, forest green canes with a little new growth coming out. I thought, My God, how did this survive? I kept going back to try and salvage what I could, and each time the rose was getting more leaves. Then it bloomed in December.’” Read the full article here.
"Music and Marijuana": Ed O'Rourke Jr. and Leon Standifer, August 2003
Our beloved Lawnchair Gardeners could offer advice on any topic—even if it counted as criminal conspiracy.
“Back in the sixties—the Age of Aquarius—the state police asked us to grow marijuana plants for their identification courses. I was teaching greenhouse management back then and was surprised at the sudden interest of some students in techniques for growing plants indoors—under artificial lights. I understood why when the police came by to ask if I could use some high intensity lights in the greenhouse. They had confiscated them from some of our students who had been growing marijuana in a closet.” Read the full article here.
A note on a fondly remembered friend.
Dear Readers,
As I recently told publisher James Fox-Smith, my favorite assignment for Country Roads was all the assignments. From my first article which sent me to hallowed Highland Cemetery, to errands across the Atchafalaya to find the best crawfish étouffée, my tenure as assistant editor at this magazine will always occupy a rosy corner of my heart. I flexed my French proficiency in the archives of the Ursulines Convent, explored the rooftop and attic space of the Old State Capitol, and let the Mississippi River have its way with my bathtub-boat during the Phatwater kayak race.
The well of experiences afforded me by the Country Roads publishing family is deep and wide, but one particular series, a partnership with local gardening legend Leon Standifer, left an imprint on my whole family. Behind the scenes of the Real Growth gardening column I shared with Leon in 2013, my husband and I got to have monthly backyard strolls and conversations with Leon, a LSU professor and World War II veteran whose almost ninety-year-old mind and wit were as sharp as ever. Reclined on rickety wooden lawn chairs, the three of us drank tea (Leon teased us for not having a coffee machine) and discussed current affairs, Sunday School topics, wartime memories, or seed catalogs. Nearby, our young daughter Julia toddled around the vegetable garden, shared snacks with Leon, and waved goodbye when he drove away.
After our column came to an end, we made sure to stay in touch with Leon and visit his home. He was so gracious to come to Julia’s third birthday party, where he happily presided over a house crowded with sugared-up little ones from the safety and comfort of a sofa.
Our friend Leon passed away in November of 2016, and there’s so much I’d like to tell him. Leon, I think of you every time I pull on my gardening gloves or sit with friends in the backyard. Our vegetable garden is now mostly a butterfly garden, and you’d love it. The fig trees you gave us are doing well and feeding our backyard critters. (And yes, we’re still ignoring your advice to usher our pesky squirrels into a gumbo pot.) The elderly satsuma tree, which reminds me of you for its height and wisdom, survived the recent snowy winter, as did the orange orchard. Julia just started first grade and remembers you fondly. All is well.
—Anne Craven, assistant editor, 2009–2013