I’ve been combing Lafayette No 1 looking for a particular tomb for a researcher, doing just a little at a time because…well, because it’s summer in New Orleans, which means it’s insanely hot. You have to pace yourself, so I stay through 1 bottle of frozen water. I know, that’s not a typical measurement of time, but it takes about an hour and a half for the bottle to go from frozen to evaporated- long enough to be productive, short enough to leave you standing.

Normally, that would give me enough time to cover a lot of ground, but there have been a surprising number of visitors*, and when I hear them wondering aloud what this-or-that is, I fill them in. Often it becomes a sort of mini tour, so there’s less tomb searching and more talking. I go back the next day, carve out another area, and set to it. I don’t mind – I enjoy chatting with everybody, and it’s been a lot of fun to find out how interested people are.

So it’s great. But it’s still hot, and I’m a girl who likes her A/C. So when I moped around the corner clutching desperately to my few droplets of water and saw this guy, an ancient aphorism came to mind…

I once cried because I had no shoes, then I met a man with no feet.

This is a job I really wouldn’t want:

Hot? Merciless? I can’t imagine what it must be like to be up there all day long in the direct sun. Plus, doesn’t that look like an exterminator’s canister he has up there? Eeek. Doesn’t bear thinking about.

Walking around chit-chatting while trying to stay under the shade of the tree canopy suddenly seems like an absolute walk in the park…which, come to think of it, it sort of is.

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*Typically the only people looking to task walking tours in July/Aug are either masochists or they enjoy a full time sauna. If you’re a fan of drinking your oxygen, August in New Orleans is for you.

Despite being only 15 when the Civil War broke out, Captain James Dinkins served in the Confederacy under several commanders (most notably Bedford Forrest). He was the youngest commissioned officer in the Confederacy, fighting in 27 battles over the course of the war.

Born on a Mississippi plantation, Captain Dinkins returned home from battle to find his family’s fortunes had fallen. The first thing he did was scrape up cotton to sell so the women of the house could have bolts of cloth to sew clothing as theirs was badly tattered. For several years he farmed the family’s land to get them back on their feet before travelling the rails as a railroad-man. Eventually he settled in New Orleans to become a businessman, founding the Bank of Jefferson in 1900.

The Captain is buried alongside his wife, Sue. They fell in love not long after they met at age 10, and he knew immediately he wanted to be wed. Her family said she was too young, but he continued to ask, dozens upon dozens of times, for her hand in marriage. Her parents finally allowed the match when they were both 21, and they remained devoted to each other until she died a month before their 68th anniversary.

His final birthday- his 94th- was held at his St. Charles Avenue mansion and was marked by his annual party. The press attended and asked him his opinion of the world’s pre-World War II tensions. He said “No, we are not going to war. The last one was too devastating.” It was noted that he still read the papers every day and kept up with current affairs, being in generally good health.

Sadly, two months later, while visiting his daughter in South Carolina, he slipped and fell, becoming bedridden and entering his final decline.

At the time of his death in 1939 he was the oldest ranking member of the Confederacy, and the last remaining member of the Army of the Tennessee. The Captain remained active in Confederate causes up until the end, attending reunions and writing a book about his years in service called “1861-1865 by an Old Johnnie.”
Captain Dinkins was buried in his Confederate’s uniform and the grave is watched over by two sad-eyed German Sheppards.

The inscription is doubly poignant due to the state of the grave, which is slipping away as well:

Waves of Cantonese immigrants began coming to New Orleans in the late 1800s, and for sixty years we had a small Chinatown stretching for several blocks around Tulane Avenue. The area prospered, primarily as a commercial district with shops and restaurants all along its length, importing hard to find silks and finery, providing cleaning services for the stiff and oppressive suits of the day, and importing opium. Chinatown was only a few blocks away from Storyville, and dozens of runners brought the opium to the brothels all day and night – both the drug and the prostitution being legal at the time.

During this heyday the Soon On Tong Society tomb was built in Cypress Grove to meet the particular needs of the new population. Opened in July of 1904, the tomb featured iron fences in front and back (now only half a fence remains, in the rear of the tomb), with a prayer altar and fireplace inside.

Prayers were written out and burnt in the fireplace to send them on, and eventually the dead would be disinterred and the remains returned to China, though that practice died out as subsequent generations had deeper ties in America than in their ancestral homeland. As you can see, the altar is still in use today, with candles and incense in evidence.

Those pre-World War II years were difficult for Chinese across the United States, as they were viewed with suspicion and subject to deportation, and while there were cases of questionable deportation in New Orleans conditions here were more welcoming than many other places in the country. Conditions eased when we allied with China against the Japanese, and propaganda posters “explaining” how to tell the difference between the races popped up, showing the Chinese as friendly. Even so, Chinatown was eventually bulldozed in the name of progress, and the citizens scattered settling first in the French Quarter before spreading throughout New Orleans.

I have tried to find out more about the group that built this tomb, but haven’t been able to get very far. “Tong” translates to
“association-” sometimes a secret society, but I haven’t found anything more illuminating. If/when I do, I’ll update the post, and if anyone has more information, I’d love to have it!

(crossposted from Dreamy Dreams)

Hey y’all…

So yeah, been a bad girl and haven’t been posting. Again. I know I promised to be better but I at least wanted to pop in, make sure you knew I was still here and still dedicated… and that I was going to have to step out for a few more weeks. It’s for good stuff all around, but other than a few very brief posts I have auto scheduled, I’m going to be MIA for a few weeks while I’m away both physically and mentally.

Things I’ve learned during my transition period so far:

1. I have a metric crapton of pictures. I’ve kindly been invited to do a show of some of my cemetery photographs in a local cafe, which is totally flattering and wonderful, even though it’s made me face the depth of my photographic illness. I’ve discovered that I have several (like 5) thousand cemetery photos taken over the last decade, most of which haven’t been looked at in a long time, many still on film only, and oh, btw, I have no idea how one goes about putting this sort of thing together, so it’s been a really interesting process, but I think we’re getting there, finally.
2. Weird cherry picking process makes me bang my head repeatedly, which isn’t good for concentration I’m actually having to do this bizarre dance with what pics to use and what not to use, because I’m working on (shhhh, top secret! Double pinky swear not to say anything, okay?) a book that involves some of these same photos + some quasi-genealogy, complicating things. But, hey, since when do I do simple?
3. Writing writing not going so well, and drastic measures are called for. Just to be confusing, there’s also the “real” book I’m (theoretically) working on. (Not that you could tell.) I’m starting to reach the panic stage, where I can foresee myself dramatically flinging the bastard into the fireplace flames, drunkenly crying “L’chaim!”

   This sounds far fetched, perhaps and in the particulars I suppose it is- it’s New Orleans in the summer, fer godsakes. There’s no WAY I’m lighting a fire! But in practice, it’s something I’ve done it before. In fact, I have the better part of a pretty good vampiresque parody done that I tossed aside because a) I lost touch with it, and b) panic set in, although, honestly, also playing a part was c)how freaking tired can you get of vampires? They’re everywhere! They weren’t when I started, but by the time I got serious, they were deep into oversaturation territory.

4. Depression/obsession blows like the oil rig that causes it. It is so so SO easy to start reading the horrifying news stories and have a months-long freakout at the bottom of deep dark pit of despair. I’ve been trying to wean myself from the obsession, and it’s not been easy. When we were in NY for 9/11 I watched coverage for months, curled up and miserable on the couch. After Katrina I drove and drove and drove around until I ended up on a shrink’s couch. I cannot afford to do it again, so I’ve got to call for a mental moratorium, even though it sort of seems like cowardice.
5. If I don’t do something about planning this wedding, Charlie will kill me if my sister doesn’t get me first. Ummmm…. pretty self explanatory, really. Though the venue and date are now set at least…which happened just yesterday. I know, I know, I’m a bad bride, but this should not come as a surprise to anyone who knows me, really. It’s hard for me to worry about those kinds of things. It’ll happen, it’ll be fine, it’ll be a party, and that’s that.





So a drastic change of scenery, both internal and external is the ticket. That’s where the stepping out comes in while I take a geographical and mental sabbatical. I’ll be back soonish and will start posting more bits of fiction and suchlike for those who care, and to hold myself accountable if nothing else.

And that’s that. I’ll leave you with one of the photos that I’m on the fence about including before saying hasta luego. I like the perspective and the white against the blue, but not sure if it’s a keeper or not- thoughts or comments welcome as always:


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You’ll find many depictions of weeping willows in the New Orleans cemeteries, but as far as I know there’s only one actual willow tree:

It’s in the courtyard of Hope Mausoleum, which is technically St. John’s cemetery and sits atop the Hoft grave just outside the far door.

Seen on a tomb, a willow represents (not surprisingly) sadness, although the tree has been used as a gateway to the afterlife since ancient Greece.

At first glance this unusual marker might look like another Woodsmen of the World gravestone, with its rough hewn knotty log construction:

But, no. This is instead a symbol of what the lady, Lilla M. Benjamin, loved most in life- sitting in front of Wolf & Marks and talking to passersby, beckoning them to come inside their shop and browse. The carvers even included her footrest, and a spray of lilies arch across the headrest.

Lilla’s grave is part of a larger family coping in Dispersed of Judah cemetery:

The only two elaborate markers are for Lilla and Elias, both featuring the wood motif. For the sake of Lilla’s comfort I can only hope the wooden chair was symbolic licence and her own was more cozy!

Logs, when depicted as being transformed into something new, like this chair, symbolizes something lost (the deceased/a living tree) in one form, but changed into something new and worthy.

The Louisiana Landmarks Society has found that the roots of centuries old oak trees are doing irreparable harm to Lafayette Cemetery and has placed the site on the ‘New Orleans 9′- their annual list of most endangered sites in the city.

Typically places that make the list are structures they hope to save- this year’s list includes Professor Longhair’s home among others- but 2010 also boasts some broader initiatives, like saving the entire Mid-City neighborhood, about to be bulldozed for the new hospital complex, and abandoned churches around the city. Given the broad scope it’s not that surprising that they’d target an entire cemetery.

There are lots of trees throughout the cemetery, and although they make for some lovely shade and gorgeous photos, you can see how they could become a problem. I’ll be documenting the trees and their layouts over the next few weeks in case they start getting cut down out of necessity.