Paul Schnexnayder
"The Seven Glorious Mysteries and Theories Surrounding the Underground Tunnel at Mt. Carmel Academy"
In New Iberia artist Paul Schnexnayder's, "The Seven Glorious Mysteries and Theories Surrounding the Underground Tunnel at Mt. Carmel Academy," he depicts the tunnel traveling beneath the Bayou Teche, from legend to legend: as a refuge for the nuns to engage in "illicit" activities like drinking or gambling, a place to hide away Mount Carmel's pregnant students, or where people might have been held captive for any reason. Other lore poses it as an escape route for the enslaved, Jean Lafitte's private passageway, a place of Satanic worship, or a route connecting the sisters to the priests of St. Peter's Catholic Church.
The communities along the Bayou Teche vibrate with a frequency of mystery. Their legends and lore are as much a part of the landscape as the Spanish moss and magnolias.
There is a particular tale that was whispered from one Catholic schoolgirl to the next, echoing through the halls of Mount Carmel Academy, for generations. The mystery lay beneath the floorboards upon which they walked, where a secret passageway was rumored to stretch all the way beneath the bayou itself.
The academy was founded in New Iberia by the Sisters of Mount Carmel in 1870. Two years later, the school moved from St. Peter’s Street to the historic Henry F. Duperier home, perched on the banks of the Bayou Teche across the bridge from St. Peter’s Cathedral, where it remained until its closure in 1988. Since 1998, the property has been owned by Hermane Schellstede-Pflieger, who named it Place Eugenie after his late wife and high school sweetheart—also a Mount Carmel girl.
“Some people said the priests and nuns used it to travel back and forth [to each other]." Others believed it was part of the Underground Railroad. And of course, there was a version warning Mount Carmel girls that it was a place for those who 'misbehaved' or fell pregnant.
The legacy of Mount Carmel is still held with reverence in the community. Schellstede-Pflieger recalls the rigorous standards of the school when he was courting his future bride. “The nuns were very strict with their girls. You had to be on time, proper. If you were dating a Mount Carmel girl, it was special,” he said.
In a school defined by structure, the thrills of the hidden tunnel’s lore offered the balance of mischief. Whether born from fact or fancy, the tale lives on—tucked between history and folklore, where the best Southern stories tend to linger.
Legends are never crisp; their edges are hazy. Memories differ on the exact location of where the entrance to the Teche Tunnel was. Some claim it lay hidden in the chapel where Mass was held in the school, while others insist it was tucked under the principal’s office or cleverly concealed beneath the secretary’s desk. There are murmurs of an entrance near the kitchen. But even more steeped in speculation is the question of the tunnel’s origin.
“I always heard the tunnel led to St. Peter’s Catholic Church,” recalled New Iberia artist Paul Schexnayder, who grew up with the legend and later researched it for the painting, "The Seven Glorious Mysteries and Theories Surrounding the Underground Tunnel at Mt. Carmel Academy." “Some people said the priests and nuns used it to travel back and forth [to each other]." Others believed it was part of the Underground Railroad. And of course, there was a version warning Mount Carmel girls that it was a place for those who 'misbehaved" or fell pregnant.
To others, the trapdoor was known as “the pirate room.” Sister Catherine Riggs, who graduated from Mount Carmel in 1960 and later returned as part of the sisterhood, shared, “The story goes that Jean Lafitte was a friend of the Duperier family. So, in the original house, they built a trapdoor with a tunnel that came out on the other side of the bayou so that he could come and go without being seen.”
As is often the case, at the center of the tangled mess of myth, there is a kernel of verifiable fact. Beneath the floorboards of Mount Carmel Academy, there really is a hidden door leading into the earth.
After the school’s closure, Riggs seized the opportunity to find out whether the old legends held any meat. While helping pack things up, she told a maintenance man, “I’ve been hearing about this famous tunnel since I was in seventh grade. I want to see it.” He obliged, revealing and then opening a trapdoor in the section of the building that once served as the original Duperier home. Though she demurred to enter because of the cobwebs, she clearly recalled the sight of steps leading into the ground.
Schexnayder recounted his wife's 2004 high school reunion on the former Mount Carmel grounds. Lured by the legend and not deterred by cobwebs, a small group found the entrance in the floorboards. Someone had a crowbar in their car, and they opened it up, making their way below into a small earthen room enclosed by four walls. On the ground were quiet traces of devious behavior: remnants of a fire, charred filmstrips, and crushed aluminum cans. “The wall behind the stairs had a hole,” he said. “We reached back as far as it would go, and you could feel where it ended, like it had been closed off.”
One of Schellstede-Pflieger’s first tasks after purchasing the building was to investigate whether the rumored tunnel actually existed. Surveyors quickly found the same trapdoor. “On the Bridge Street side of the building, we found a large brick structure underground,” he explained. “We went into the tunnel from the convent and recovered artifacts from the short portion that still remains.” The artifacts included pottery, French doors, cots, and gardening tools.
“The tale of the Teche Tunnel is just one of many passed from porch to pew to page—each adding shape and texture to the cultural identity of this region. Stories like these carry more than mystery; they hold within them the values, voices, and lived experiences of a community.”
Despite how little we actually know about the tunnel, the tradition of storytelling in New Iberia has kept it alive in local memory, each retelling adding another thread to the tapestry of rumor and recollection. Of them all, the Lafitte lore—as it so often does—arises as the most immortal of all historical possibilities associated with the Teche Tunnel.
This version of the story—in which the secret tunnel beneath Mount Carmel Academy was used by the infamous pirate Jean Lafitte to escape to Bayou Teche—is the focus of a newly installed historical marker on Bridge Street at Place Eugenie. The TECHE Project received a Legends & Lore Marker grant from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation, administered by the Center for Louisiana Studies, to commemorate this local legend and highlight it as a piece of regional folklore and heritage.
“We definitely took advantage of the lore part of the marker program and see it as a fun story related to the bayou that may have some kernels of truth,” said TECHE Project Administrator Erin Z. Bass. “The most interesting thing has been the response to the marker. So many people want to hear more about the legend. We even heard from a woman who claims to be related to Jean Lafitte.”
The tale of the Teche Tunnel is just one of many passed from porch to pew to page—each adding shape and texture to the cultural identity of this region. Stories like these carry more than mystery; they hold within them the values, voices, and lived experiences of a community.
“We cherish the place for all of its history,” said Schellstede-Pflieger. “Our goal is to put it in a position where it is long lasting and useful to the community of Iberia Parish.” That same sense of purpose drives efforts like the Legends & Lore markers. “Oral history is a huge part of the allure of Bayou Teche,” Bass added. “We see our role as preserving and sharing these stories.”
Even as the Teche Tunnel’s legacy has been preserved, the boundaries between history and legend remain as murky as the bayou water—serving as a constant reminder that sometimes, the truth is hidden beneath the floorboards.
