Slidell Magazine, September 2020 by Slidell Magazine

THE OFFICIAL MAGAZINE OF SLIDELL

Vol. 119 September 2020

WE KEEP IT FRESH

SAY KEEP IT POSITIVE 1

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Editor’s Letter

Kendra Maness Editor / Publisher

I know you’re weary of Covid talk. We are all impacted in some way and the last thing we need is MORE whining. So, I’m not nagging. I’m simply...nudging. The picture to the left is me, believe it or not. It’s a promo shot for the play Southern Fried Funeral that was to appear onstage at Cutting Edge Theater in August. Obviously, it did not; neither did an entire spring and summer schedule of other plays and musicals. It’s heartbreaking to spend months rehearsing and never see your play come to life. What’s even more heart wrenching is watching the theater I love so dearly suffer.

Kendra, as MarthaAnn, in the Cutting Edge Theater play-that-has-yet-to-be, Southern Fried Funeral

Owning a theater isn’t cheap. Anyone who’s been to a performance at Cutting Edge can attest to the quality of the productions. Long before a show takes to the stage, the planning and, most notably,

Cover: “FOXY BROWN” by MARLOWE PARKER

the purchasing begins. There’s a hefty cost to a good production and you’re correct to think it’s to scale -- the bigger the name, the bigger the production, the bigger the costs. Play rights, music rights, producers, directors, costuming (a small fortune in itself), make-up artists, set building and decoration, promotion, membership fees, technology... the list goes on. Cutting Edge also pays their actors, which is not typical for community theaters. Cutting Edge Theater is a blessing to our community and thousands of us have enjoyed their vibrant musicals, hilarious comedies and saucy shows. Their theater, and hundreds like them across the country, are working hard to come back from the gut-punch of Covid. As you support local during this time and in the future, please remember your theaters.

Cover Artist marlowe parker

Slidell Magazine PO Box 4147 Slidell, LA 70459 www.slidellmag.com 985-789-0687 Kendra Maness, Editor/Publisher Editor@slidellmag.com Michael Bell, Graphic Designer Graphics@slidellmag.com CONTRIBUTING WRITERS The Storyteller, The Village - John Case Pet Points, Hypoglycemia - Jeff Perret, DVM Gardening during Covid 19 - Story & Photos by Donna Bush Slidell, Our History: Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918 by Ted Lewis Legal-Ease - Ronda M. Gabb Making Cents of Your Money - Mike Rich Extraordinary Slidell Neighbors, Marlowe Parker by Charlotte Collins

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This is the first cover for Marlowe Parker. “Foxy Brown” is a groovy, fun, oil on canvas painting that flows with action, movement and message. Marlowe has completed over 200 original pieces of art - paintings, pencil sketches, ink art, sculptures, carvings and multi-media pieces. Because most of these brilliant pieces were created and sold while Marlowe was incarcerated, there are only pictures left to document them. “Foxy Brown” is one of the many pieces that Marlowe has painstakingly recreated, and improved upon, from his home studio in Lacombe. Marlowe first came to our attention when we saw his art displayed at Annette’s House of Decor Antique Mall in Olde Towne. We were captivated by his originality and imagination and blown away by his Afrocentric style, which is so new to the Slidell art scene. In meeting Marlowe and hearing his story, we knew we had found someone who was destined for great things. It is our honor to introduce him to all of Slidell. Look closely at the cover and you’ll see “1928” and “Old Town” in the background of his painting. This is the address for Annette’s, and Marlowe’s grateful tipping of his hat to them for housing his first public art display. 5

SNeighbors lidell A biography by Charlotte Collins

It was one of those hot summer afternoons when I met Marlowe Parker. Actually, I saw his paintings before meeting the artist himself. Before I was able to set foot on his front steps, I was completely distracted by his paintings gathered on the front porch, placed near his handmade headstones, and over in the side garden. I could discern historical figures and events, then sense the passion in some, and feel the wit in others, that lay just beneath the surface in each scene. Time slowed as I stooped to examine each one more closely. But when Marlowe walked out to greet me, I learned the depth of the stories behind each figure and object in the paintings. As soon as he spoke, I was stuck by how much he sounded like my friend, Jeff Parker. Turns out that Marlowe is his baby brother. If you know the Creole Parker family, you know that they tend to talk rapidly, with a lot of facial animation and gestures. Marlowe would act out each character I saw, and mimic their voices until I felt as if I were watching a play unfold. My first question was whether or not the character he was imitating at the moment was derived from someone he knew. His answer was that they were purely from his imagination. But his gestures, 6

demeanor, and voice would change so vividly that I could tell he spent a tremendous amount of time imagining each person he painted. I am sure that the scene comes to life for this artist, long before he attempts to paint the life into their image. Eventually, we made it to the front door. That’s when I saw that the entire interior space was filled with many, many more paintings, each with another story. Sprinkled in between were carvings, sculptures, discovered objects that symbolized epic adventures in his life, and a few of his own step-father’s paintings. Once more, time seemed to stand still. As I stepped into the next room in his gallery, I walked through the phone booth he built, complete with a red, shiny pay phone. I guessed that it was symbolic of the ones he used in Angola. Confirming my interpretation, he expounded, “It meant so much to have minutes put on your phone from your parents, to know you could call when you needed to. It may be one call every other week, but sometimes it was the only way to get a message through to your family, your preacher or lawyer.” What a transition to realize now he could use his cell phone at will! So many things would be put in perspective for me during this interview.

Marlowe Parker I have no idea how long we walked around the artwork and talked, but it felt like I had stepped down Alice’s rabbit hole, into a grand adventure. Marlowe makes beautifully painted, personalized headstones to commemorate each life he honors. As he put it, “A lot of poor people can’t afford even a headstone for their loved ones. My momma didn’t have one, much to my surprise. My brother, Leonard Jr., called to see if I would split the cost with him. I said yes, but then thought better of it. Instead, I decided to make one that was special for her. I made a few for people in Angola. Now I showcase my headstones on my front lawn to let people know I can make them a beautiful work of art to represent the dead that is affordable. Every individual deserves a marker. My hope is that strangers will start visiting

those who went before them more often, even if just to see my art. When I go to pay my respects, I want to see their face so I can pour out my thoughts and then let go." He showed me an image on his phone of a headstone he painted for a baby that died from SIDS. He depicted the newborn child in an angel’s arms. “Now the mama can have some closure.” At one point during my wandering, I saw his painting of his grandfather, Elmo, who is Marlowe’s hero. With great gusto, the artist pointed and described, "Poppa was born in 1911. He moved houses with a hydraulic jack for a living. Poppa couldn’t read, but he was a common sense genius!" The painting is a landscape with the porch of an old country store. "It depicts the moment desegregation became real for my Poppa. There he is sitting right there. He is waiting for the Sheriff, since he is now allowed to enter the front door. On this day, he will go right through those front door to get colas for his workers. That’s his brother, his brother’s son, and two field hands. Even though the laws had changed, some owners did not want to honor the new law, and they kept the old signs up. See the sign right there?” He was pointing out various aspects of importance, then he reeled around and put his finger up, “But don’t think everybody was racist back then. Poppa had many white advocates, and knew how to work with blacks and whites respectfully, and they respected him back, like the Sheriff. There were many whites who considered their employees as family and left them land to build homes and grow some peas. Poppa told me a lot of those stories, and I saw the appreciation when I was with him.” Looking at the image of this painting, his grandfather’s skin was light. Marlowe explained that his Creole heritage includes African-American, Native American and white in their ancestry. When he spoke of his grandmother, it was with awe. “Cecelia Atlowe Parker worked for Dr. Beasley in Lacombe. She was a loving, hard-working women, whose eyes covered all the generations.” He would cut his eyes up toward heaven as he described her. “They used real wisdom during her generation. I don’t have a formal education. But if I can see the value in what we learned from the Greatest Generation, the educated people of today’s generation need to stand up and do what’s right. This is what my grandmother did for people of all color and generations. Lift people up, everyone you meet.” Soon I discovered her photograph, and I knew instantly who the angelic face must belong to, and why Marlowe spoke of her the way he did. Once again, I hadn’t figured on our conversation being so pertinent to our current dilemma. When we finally sat down for me to capture his own

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story, Marlowe became more serious. He described his childhood and early years as a young man with one word, “rough.” "I had a loving family with my mother, dad, and two brothers. I seemed to just fall through the cracks. After I got older, and understood life better, I realized my mother and father were going through a divorce just when I needed them most. When I was about eight or nine years old, my parents were fighting so badly that that's pretty much all I saw. I failed to get my education right, and didn’t have as much discipline as my brothers." "I was a hard worker because it took my mind off things. My dad and I worked on machines together, and I was pretty good at it for a boy. I also remember my daddy’s bar he owned, the Honey Bee Lounge on Poitevent Road. I sat and watched an artist, Bootsy I think his name was, paint on the walls. I loved his stylistic way of portraying life. He let me clean his brushes, which would come in handy later. Then, I let myself get caught up in drugs. It was at that point that my life pretty much went backwards.” The 1970’s were a powerful time when many kids experimented with the new “magic elixirs” of the decade. Marlowe dropped out of school before he learned

to read and write. It sounded as if he did everything he could to avoid dwelling on his feelings and avoid the harsh realities of life at that time. He sold drugs to pay for his habit, got caught, and served 22 years in Angola State Penitentiary. But he quickly admonishes, “Prison was good for me. Now, I want to teach young people not to go in my direction.” Raising his finger, Marlowe expounded, “I completed a 12-step program for rehab. Succeeding in that program made me real proud. It was the first thing I ever completed! Before that, I didn’t trust anybody, didn't trust myself. And when I got locked up, I realized that life is short, and so, so, precious. I had to learn how to love myself before I was able to deal with the drug habit. And I'm in prison looking at all the people that are all broken and lost. If I could say two things the next generation would listen to, it’s that you have to know how to take care of yourself if the worse came to pass. If the satellites go out, you need to know how to revert to your heritage, plant some beans, learn to use basic tools. Technology can’t save you then. And the second thing is that the world just seems to be so angry now, and anger can make you go crazy. Put that energy into doing good for someone, and think for

yourself, not the angry group mentality. Go see your grandmother, find some compassion.” Marlowe has learned a lot during his time in Angola. But in spite of his rehab and finding God, Marlowe explained that he still didn’t have all the tools he needed to stay with his program. “They explained to me that if you want to stay clean, you got to put something in the place left by your lost habit.” I wondered what could be strong enough to break decades of addiction and street fighting. “I asked God, please give me something, anything, to replace all that." "I loved going to the hobby shop and learning different tools and techniques, and thought art might be God’s answer. I had met my step-father, Gilbert Green, when he was my momma’s penpal. He was an artist, and his style impacted on me. We went and visited him, because none of us wanted momma to marry a prisoner. But after I met him, I knew he loved my momma. He would give me pointers on how to put feeling into art and get started with ideas. So, I thought, why not art? I first tried leatherwork, because I didn’t know how to draw and paint. I wanted to learn leather craft from one of the inmates. I started glueing straps for him, while he did all the sewing. Next, I started using the sewing machines to make

Left: Marlowe's first painting, a monotone of Dr. Martin Luther King. Middle: Marlowe's pen & ink drawing of his grandmother, Cecelia Atlowe Parker. Right: Marlowe's painting of his Poppa depicts the moment desegregation became real for his grandfather, as he waits for entry with his workers outside a country store. 8

my own purses, wallets, belts, and anything I could sell. I really enjoyed learning and liked the tools!” Marlowe explained that you have to make a choice in prison. You either hang with the tough guys, as most inmates do. Or you take the risk of being perceived as weak. Choosing to break your habit and going straight is what the tough guys consider “following the sheep.” Marlowe made a decision to follow the right route, no matter the cost. As he said, he would rather die in prison, and know that he was doing something good for a change. Marlowe was determined to keep a clean record and be able to stay in the hobby shop. Then Marlowe’s face was transformed as he described the next phase of his tutelage. “But then...’” and he stared off as if transfixed. “...I started watching a man named Randy Sears. He was a really competent artist. He would let me watch him... and he started talking to me while he was painting.” And so Mr. Randy Sears taught Marlowe perspective, shading, and proportions, explaining all the while he was painting. One day, Marlowe found a brush in the garbage can that had hardened. He worked and worked on it with mineral spirits until he cleaned it up. Eventually, he found

some old paint Mr. Sears was going to throw away. As Marlowe described, “I started dabbling with it. Next thing I knew, Mr. Sears said, ‘Let me show you how to create an illusion, because that’s what painting is, an illusion.” He drew out the word illuuusion like it was a magical incantation. Daily, Marlowe honed his skills diligently, hardly going back to his dorm, except to shower and change clothes. When he prayed, he thanked God “for showing me I’m no dummy!” Marlowe had found his talent, and his face glowed as he cut his eyes upward as if in prayer as he relived that feeling. But the mood changed in his next sentence. His voice lowered and became very bass, as he told me about having a nightmare about two weeks later. “It was so real!” he exclaimed passionately. I had a dream about some crack rocks that just appeared. Then I dreamed I smoked them, and realized I was back on drugs after all my efforts. I can’t describe how bad I felt! I mean, I was finally learning to feel good about myself, and it all went up in smoke. I was devastated. And then... I woke up! I was sweating, and scared almost to death. But I couldn’t lose that sinking feeling. I felt... just... dirty, that’s all I can say to describe it.

I crawled under my sheets and didn’t go back to the hobby shop.” His speech went on rapidly as he relayed, “I waited by the gate for a counselor to come as they do on Wednesday mornings. I’ll never forget what she told me. She said, ‘It's gonna be all right. Just go back to your higher power, because he's going to give you everything you need. He is going to give you the map and the model.” Then he took a breathe and resumed, “I was able to go back to the hobby shop, started painting again and I stuck with it,” he declared proudly. His artist mentor showed him more drawing skills daily, and added more painting exercises. Marlowe intoned the voice of Mr. Randy Sears as he said, “'Marlowe, I'm gonna show you how to do a monotone!’ He explained that I would paint the whole painting using just one color, and then add lights and darks to give a sense of depth. That’s when it clicked. I was so afraid of all those colors, and worried to myself that I couldn’t mix all the colors. But my monotone came out so lifelike!” I looked at a relatively small portrait of Dr. Martin Luther King. He was right! It showed not only depth and accurate proportions, but it also glowed with expression.

Left: Marlowe was taught that, "You have create an illuuusion," as is seen in this fascinating oil on canvas. Right: Marlowe's use of vibrant, rich coloring is often times a stark contrast to his subject matter, like this humble family dinner scene. 9

Left: Self-portrait, 2009. Middle: Of his rooster series, Marlowe says, "Everybody was 'roostering' at the time. They sold good at the [Angola] Rodeos." Right: This brilliant oil on canvas depicts Donald Trump (and wife), Mike Pence (and wife), Condoleezza Rice and Ben Carson. It's named "2 Percent", a joke about the African-American support for Trump.

Now the eager art apprentice was able to make magic happen in his own paintings, because he diligently learned each illusion shown to him. “It took me a while to realize that God gave me the gift, but now I don't use pictures as much to paint from. Instead, I just imagine this stuff and I became a real artist, and I love it! I realize God showed me a way to get clean, and He promised that He would never take that from me, but I could give it away, by relapsing. That nightmare was His way of reminding me to stay strong.” Taking another deep breathe, Marlowe relaxed a bit and related, “I felt so blessed that I went all out and did a painting of a big Jesus, taller than the trees. A guy is running out of church, falling on his knees, and asking, ‘Where are you when I need you?’ There is a shadow of Jesus behind him that he doesn’t even see. But God is there, watching and waiting for him. That painting was about me. I put it on exhibit and a lady came up asking who the artist was. I couldn’t even answer. I was so nervous! I sold my first painting that day!" "I just wished my daddy could have known this, because he told me I would never amount to anything, if I didn’t start listening. My dad was only trying to help me try harder. One thing Dad 10

said was that God gave me common sense, I just needed to use it. I needed his life rules, but I was too young.” It dawned on me that this explained why he wanted to help other youth in his situation, and why he felt we needed to spend time at grave sites, remembering our ancestors more vividly. Through his years of time, Marlowe finally saw that he could be an artist. Exuberantly, Marlowe pronounced, “God gave me the gift, and I got better! The Warden gave me studio space and some supplies. His wife came to see all of the artists’ work, and wanted mine! Eventually, they gave me a TV in my studio, and I could stay in my studio as much as I wanted.” Marlowe’s hard work was improving his life on so many different levels. He has been painting ever since. The artist added, “Then I started entering

into art events and competitions, and I started winning! Then Angola started advertising me as their featured artist and success story!” In contrast, Marlowe reminded me of how far he had come by reaching back into his dark past. “There was a time I would have stolen anything just to get my next crack rock. My name was well known among law enforcement back then. I really wish I could see some of those guys today, to let them know that I respect them. See, I now know that they were trying to help me, and they were doing a good job of keeping Slidell safe. I truly feel that prison was the only way for me to learn. I don’t think I would even be alive if I was left on the streets. Working with the Warden all those years, I learned to be responsible, and how important a man’s word is. They taught me how to let go of that child inside me, and I thank all of them for helping me grow into a real man, a kinder and wiser man.” Marlowe also learned to read and write during his many years in prison. It was the only way to get letters to and from his wife. He smiled and said, “She answered my letters, and that gave me confidence too! It made me feel so good, because I knew I had let her down.”

Shifting in his chair to face me, he revealed, “There was a Risk Review Panel that was formed to determine early release for non-violent drug offenders under the new law. I had been in for 15 years already, and the guys started predicting I would be going home as a result of this new law. I went into a zone thinking about home, and quit painting. I put my tools down, and started daydreaming for about a six-month spell, even missed the rodeo that year. Next year, I knew I had to wake up, shake it off, and start back painting. Seven years later, the law finally came into effect, and people started going home. Once again, I thought I would be going home, but knew better than to set myself up for failure a second time. One thing required for early release was a 100- hour program for anger management. I set my mind to it and I completed it, my second completion!" “I continued on a positive path, kept going to church, and learning more about God. God started answering my prayers and putting things in my path. Everything started turning to gold. I prayed thanks to God. I used to be mad at my family because I thought they weren’t calling and writing me enough. I was mad all those years because I thought God abandoned me. Now, I called my family and apologized. I

called my wife, two daughters, three sons, and momma and explained that I wanted to turn around, be responsible, and help them instead." “I learned to be humble lastly. I remember some guy told me, ‘God made people different, because somebody had to clean the land. He didn’t put shovels in Doctors hands.’" As for the future, Marlowe wants his art to continue to do good in this world. He has been prolific in the months since his release. But Marlowe also wants to give some of them to some special people that have been an inspiration during his time in prison. There is one he did of Aaron Neville, because Aaron also beat his past demons. He described a beautiful painting of an eagle on a perch in the Louisiana swamp that he would like to see hanging in the city jail. As he explained, “I painted it on behalf of all the inmates to show gratitude for the lessons we learned.” As I was packing up, Marlowe had one last request, “I want to thank my fans that supported me by buying my art. I also want to say to those who would like to see my work to be sure to look a little closer. It’s therapeutic, and I hope you will start smiling. I hope to change your day, if only for a brief while. We all need to feel good more often!”

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The

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THE VILLAGE When I was young, I heard old timers talk about the accident. They always started the story with, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Well, about sixty years ago, when I was a kid...â&#x20AC;? Somehow that made the story seem less real; because, as a twelve-year-old, that far back was beyond my imagination. As a boy, years rolled by slowly; and to think about something or someone from 60 years past made the people and times almost unimaginable. Through the years, I had recalled bits and pieces of what I heard then, but I realized I may have had several stories mixed up. Some of the descriptions of the horrible incident remained in my mind; but, as I began to write stories (some factual, some fictional), putting this story on paper just would not evolve. Some years ago, I wrote a book of short stories titled Bogue Chitto Flats, Stories from a Southern Town. Most of the stories were inspired by tales I had heard from older relatives and their friends. This story did not appear in the book. As I have stated, I just could not get it to come together. Somehow, my book fell into the hands of a man named Charles Percy in Connecticut. He wrote me a letter and asked if I knew anything about the sawmill explosion in a community they called The Village. He thought it was a story that I would like to tell, and should tell. I answered the letter and informed him that I was aware of there being a serious accident before the turn of the 20th century, but I had not researched it, and certainly had never written about it. He wrote again asking me why I did not feel it was a worthy story. I explained to him that the only records I could most likely obtain were newspaper articles from that time. Writing a story based on 14

that information would just be a journalistic repost. Previously, when I had written similar stories, they had not been well received. For the story to attract attention, it needed something of human interest other than telling about an explosion that killed thirteen people. I responded, I would be interested in writing the story if I could find something about the social changes that the incident inspired; but, in those days, that would not have been newsworthy and not recorded. A few days later, Charles Percy called me. He said he knew exactly what I meant, but he felt sure he had some information that would change my mind. Talking to him stirred my interest. I realized that based on the information he held, and the manner by which he had come by it, I could write about much more than the fact that it was a tragic accident. He told me his grandfather, Tom Percy Sr., was killed in the accident. At the time, Charles' father, Tom Jr., was only ten years old. Tom Jr. had been obsessed with the accident that killed his father his entire life. A few days later, I received a large envelope in the mail. Inside were copies of letters, notes and graphs. It was evident from what I saw, Tom Jr. had made an almost lifelong study of the accident, its cause, the people affected and even its influence on The Village itself. His notes and letters spanned over fifty years. Based on the information I received, this is the story as best I can tell it. To assist me, I have consulted news articles from that time, Find-a-Grave.com, Ancestry.com, Newspapers.com, Genealogybank.com and the Library of Congress. I also conducted several interviews, but only one proved helpful. Very sparingly,

I have made assumptions to fill in gaps where no information existed, but I think these assumptions are logical. ********** The Story... It was a February morning, and Jordan Magee dreaded getting from his bed and embracing the coldest morning he could remember in his 35 years of life. He cursed as the breath from his mouth created a rush of fog as it encountered the unheated room in his primitive mill provided house. He dressed slowly, seeking the warmest clothes he could find. After tossing aside a few wool shirts that were threadbare, he went to the woodshed to split extra wood. As frugal as he was, the extra wood would be needed to kindle a small fire in the wood burning stove that would warm his house the entire day. Jordan was known to have a sour temperament, and the cold weather did not improve his mood. He would later recall that his movements seemed to be slowed as if he had a feeling of impending doom. He milked the cow, gathered some eggs, ate some fried sausage and sourdough biscuits left over from the night before, and started for the door of his house. Beside the door was a rack, and from the rack he lifted a belt, and on the belt was a holstered pistol. He never left home without it. Jordan was, in some respects, the village bully. He had killed three people over the years, but all were deemed killed in self-defense. Mill towns attract a rough clientele. Nevertheless, most people left him alone and tried not to agitate him. His mood could change at the drop of a hat. He was late for work. He briskly walked the half-mile to the mill. ********** Henry Evans was the antithesis of Jordan Magee. He was a small, mild-mannered man who, on Sunday, served as a preacher at a small church. His main job was that of a filer. Keeping the blades sharp was his responsibility and it was important. A dull saw not only slowed production, but it was dangerous. It could sling splinters. Before he was hired, a dull blade cast a

splinter that entered Felix Smith’s head through his eye and exited in the back of his neck. Miraculously, Felix survived, with his only disability being the loss of his eye. Felix attended Henry’s church and Henry would often point to him in the church pew and call him “God’s Miracle.” Henry’s routine was to arrive at work early to make a check of all the equipment. That morning, he realized something was wrong. There was not as much activity of men moving about the mill yard as there should have been. ********** Duke Chastain owned the Village Mill. The mill was one of the largest in the state and, at times, would employ up to 150 men. Sawyers, loaders, trimmers, and even locomotive engineers were necessary to operate the small gauge railroad that transported logs. The Village had a population of about 600 people and that included men, women and children. Most of the male citizens worked at the mill. The few others ran supporting businesses such as a dry good store, blacksmith shop, and there was a small bank. Duke had been a wealthy man, but he had overextended his debt with the purchase of a new locomotive. It was ordered a year prior, before the recent recession had been realized and the demand for lumber reduced. The locomotive had been delivered last month, and payment was due in full. Despite owning one of the toughest industries in existence, Duke had a soft heart, and laying off employees hurt him. He had commented, it was the worst part of owning a business. In making his decision on who to let go, he first looked at the roster and rated those who performed the poorest. He even kept some that had less than pristine reviews. He kept them because they had large families. He then dismissed the single men and the ones who had children that were old enough to help support the family. He did not layoff the three fireman that maintained the boilers. Not that they were good employees - in fact, they were not - but because it was the hottest, nastiest job at the mill and no

one else wanted it. When he finished, he passed out 75 dismissal notices. Those who lost their jobs did not realize it, but it may have saved their lives. It was, however, the beginning of the end for The Village. ********** Tom Percy was the superintendent of the mill and was Duke’s right-hand man. He was the grandfather of Charles Percy who had contacted me. Tom was hard working, honest and dependable. The men respected him for his fairness, and he was respected in the community. He was on the school board and a deacon at the Baptist Church. He was the most educated of the employees, having completed the 8th grade, and the highest paid. Other than Tom Jr., he had a wife, Rita, and a younger daughter, Emma. He had depleted most of his earnings sending Emma to New Orleans for the treatment of a yet undiagnosed disease. She and Rita were to return from New Orleans on the train the day of the accident. ********** It was the responsibility of the three firemen to keep the boilers in working order, and make sure the “steam was kept up.” The boilers were never extinguished completely, as that would take too long to get power to the machinery when the mill opened at 6am. The mill was powered by three boilers housed in a building called the boiler room. In the past few weeks, the use of one boiler had been discontinued due to the recession. When the firemen arrived that morning, both the other boilers were reportedly cold. The firemen knew that Duke would not be pleased, as only a few men had jobs that could be done without power. Adding a little coal to the lumber cutoffs, they attempted to raise steam as fast as possible. In the meantime, the idle workers gathered around the warming boilers. The white men got the privilege of standing closest to the heat. The black workers formed a row outside of this, but still close enough to receive some comfort. This would ultimately save many of their lives. ********** 15

Conley Ford was a twelve-year-old boy that came to the mill with his father that morning before going to school. He had climbed into the rafters over the boilers to keep warm, but not get in the way of the firemen or the other workers. This turned out to be another story that one day Henry would point to as “God’s Miracle.” ********** It happened at exactly 6:41am. This is known because the concussion of the explosion stopped the clock on the bank three-quarters of a mile away. Reports say that the noise could be heard five miles away. Parts of the boilers were located a half-mile from the site. An engineer on the mainline railroad was backing into the spur belonging to the Village Mill and saw the disaster from a distance. He said he saw the body of a small man, or boy, go through the roof and into the air as high as 200 feet. ********** In the few moments after the explosion, it seemed as if the world was dead. Nothing could be heard; as if the noise was so intense, it had frightened the sound waves and driven them in the opposite direction. Jordan was almost at the mill when he heard the screams and moans of men dying and scalding. As tough as he was, at first, he chose not to view the carnage; but then, he knew he had to do what he could.

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Approaching the boiler room, he stepped over the bodies of men he knew and had worked with. In some cases, he could not recognize them due to the damage. Men lay stacked on each other like broken broom straws. Some hung from trees, or at least their body parts did, and many were alive, writhing in pain. Then he saw what would change his life forever. Tom Percy was trapped under an extremely heavy piece of metal, with steel and wood timbers further pinning his leg to the floor. He was on his back and the boiling water was about three inches deep, boiling him alive. He was screaming in agony. Due to the scalding water and the weight of the debris, freeing him was virtually impossible. Jordan looked around for Henry. He had never before had any use for a preacher; but, if one was ever needed, it was now. Soon, Henry was kneeling as close to Tom as the hot water would allow. While Henry prayed, Tom begged for death. Suddenly, Henry stopped his prayer, paused and looked at Jordan. Then, clearly and distinctly, he said, “Shoot him, Jordan.” A square timber was brought so that Jordan could use it as a bridge to get closer to Tom without stepping in the hot water. This was not a time for a bad shot. He unholstered his pistol and pulled back the hammer. The wailing of pain from all but Tom seemed to cease, as if giving Tom the last bit of respect. Jordan balanced himself on the timber

bridging the hot water and placed the pistol on Tom’s forehead. His hand began to shake. Tom said, “Do it Jordan, please do it, the pain is unbearable. I need to die.” To those watching, it seemed like an eternity. Then, Jordan lifted the pistol and tossed it into the boiling water that now was beginning to recede.

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With the hot water receding, maybe there could be a rescue; so plans were made. Timbers and jacks were brought in to lift the debris and free Tom’s body. No one noticed that the building, which had at first not burned, most likely due to being soaked in water, was now beginning to burn rapidly. Henry sent for a bucksaw. Henry prayed as Felix Smith and Jordan placed the saw just above Tom’s knee. There seemed to a mental battle as to which of the two men would draw the saw first, making the entry into Tom’s scalded flesh. Henry would later say that God’s mercy was rapid. After the first pass with the saw, Tom passed away. ********** Rita knew that morning that it was one of the worst days of her life. She just did not know that it would only get worse. As she boarded the train to come home, she held back tears. The doctor had told her the evening before, that 8-year-old Emma would not survive till summer. The train headed north, and new passengers boarded at each stop. At Hammond, Louisiana, she heard the boarding passengers talk about an accident at a sawmill. Bits and pieces of the conversation let her know that it was an explosion and many lives were lost. Then she heard the words she did not want to hear, “The Village Mill.” Maybe he is ok, she thought; but, even reasoning in the most positive way, she knew that the dead would consist of friends and neighbors. As the train pulled into The Village station, she saw a group of her best friends. As she and Emma stepped onto the platform, her minister approached. She fainted. The Percy’s did not live in a mill provided house. They had a large home that was one of the nicer in town. It was about a mile from the mill and Tom Jr. had heard the explosion. Most likely due to his youth, he did not immediately associate the noise with a serious happening. Then, the neighbor knocked on the door. She lived next door and her husband owned the dry goods store. She told him to come with her. ********** Tom Jr.’s notes dwell on the lady that informed him of the accident in more than just a passing manner. He reflects on that specific incident several times. As I studied the notes, I could tell by his early writing, that he held contempt for the way she broke the news, or the lack of breaking the news, to him.

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All she told him was that there had been an accident and she needed to take him to the mill. He had no idea what he was going to see. What he saw was his deceased father lying in a pool of bloody hot water. The imprint of pain was frozen on his face. Later in Tom Jr.’s writings, he reasoned that she herself did not know what they would see. I noticed, in several instances, Tom Jr. seemed to mellow through the years. ********** The final count was 13 dead, including three black men. Of course, in addition to Tom Sr., the three firemen were killed. Miraculously, the young man that was seen going through the roof lived. Eventually, he overcame his injuries and just the scars remained. He was another of Henry’s “God’s Miracle” characters. The mill was insured by Great American Indemnity Company. Soon, lawsuits were being filed on behalf of the families of the deceased and, in some cases, those that were injured. The final settlement awarded Tom’s family was $3,000. It was reasoned that he should be compensated for pain and suffering as well as a death award to his family. That was a major sum then, as it would be about $96,000 in today’s money. All the others that were killed got $200, except the black workers' families, who got $100. Most of the scalded and injured got less than $75. ********** The mill never reopened. The equipment was sold to a new mill in Louisiana and a few of the employees moved there. Tom Jr. had corresponded with them or their children in several letters. These letters were dated in the 1930’s. For employment, or maybe adventure, twenty young men joined the Army and went to the war in Cuba. Tom Jr. does not mention any specific names, but he does report that seven died from disease or injuries. Only one of the black workers was identified by name according to Tom Jr.’s notes. His name was Luther Adams. He left a wife and one son, Frank, who was 15 years old at the time. I think Tom Jr. enjoyed keeping 18

in touch with him, and I was able to find out more while writing this story. It is a story of success: Frank and his mother bought 10 acres of land on Big Creek. It was on a hillside that sloped toward the creek. It was cheap because all the timber had been cut and the lower part flooded occasionally. This could be a problem for farming, but it could also be a blessing since the flooding deposited rich, fertile silt. He and his mother planted the entire parcel in watermelons and, even on the years when there were floods, there was enough produced from the hillside to provide a meager living. In drier years, they did well. After about the fourth year of planting, Frank got permission to demolish the old mill cabins. With a mule, he dragged the virgin heart pine 12 x 12 floor joist timbers and built a substantial cottage. His farming skills improved also. He learned that if he placed metal filings from the old blacksmith shop around his plants, it produced a sweeter melon. His melons became highly sought after. I was able, through Ancestry.com, to locate his grandson. He tells an interesting story about his grandfather Frank. There was an old, dilapidated house on the property, probably built in the 1840s. When new, it was a substantial dwelling but had long ago become uninhabitable. Frank decided to demolish it. As he tore it down, he found an old flour sack hidden in the wall attached to a window weight. Rats had eaten the sack; but, in the sack, he found one silver dollar. As he continued the demolition, he found over 500 similar coins that had dropped to the floor. The grandson still owned the property, even though he lived in another state. He told me that after Hurricane Katrina, he demolished the old cabin that Frank had built from the mill cabins. The heart pine floor joist and beams he sold to a lumber company to make heart pine floors. There were 12 of them and he got $500 apiece. Coincidently, he told me that they ended up in a home being rebuilt after the storm in Louisiana. **********

Jordan Magee never lifted a gun in anger again and never carried one on his body. He did love guns and moved to a nearby larger town and became a skilled gunsmith. When WWI happened, he volunteered as a civilian to work in a weapons factory assembling arms for the cause. Tom Jr. notes that he must have had remorse knowing the ultimate use of what he was making. Jordan moved back and bought a piece of property where he built a cotton gin. The gin, he notes, was powered by the one boiler that was salvaged from the explosion. Tom also notes that he had perfect attendance at the Henry Evans’ church until the day he died and is buried in that cemetery. ********** Henry Evans was dead, apparently, before Tom started doing his research. He did find, correspond and apparently visit with Henry’s son, Alexander Campbell Evans. Alex, as he was called, became a very well-known minister. Alex had the notes from his father’s most outstanding sermons and had used parts of them in his own services. The notes were in the packet I received. Henry tells about the explosion and the carnage he saw on that day, but only briefly. Then he tells about praying to save Tom Percy. Then he says: It was just like Abraham and Isaac. You know God commanded Abraham to offer his only son Isaac as a burnt offering. As I prayed beside Tom that day, asking God to save him, I felt the Lord tell me he had to be a sacrifice. God was testing me to see if I had the faith of Abraham. I knew God was speaking to me, and I know He told me to relieve Tom of his earthly suffering. I know God told me and gave me the strength to order Jordan Magee to shoot him. Then, just as He did to Abraham, when I trusted my faith, He did provide. He provided a way for me to not have Tom’s blood on my hands. He did it through the weakness of another man. This man was not really weak, just acting through the Angel of God. That man sits in this audience today, and he and I know the Angel of the Lord said

to him, “Step aside Jordan, this is my doing.” Yes, the Lord took Tom that day, but He did it His way. Brothers and Sisters, we must live life His way. ********** Tom Jr. and his mother lived in The Village on the money that was given them from the accident for another year. Then Emma died. They then rented their house to others after dividing it into three apartments. This provided a little income, which allowed them to move to town. Rita got a job as a seamstress and, with the insurance money, they survived rather comfortably. Tom Jr. became fascinated with the accident and boilers in particular. He got a job repairing boilers with the railroad, and then started his own boiler repair business. He had the reputation of being the best in the business. At age 30, he was asked to go to work for Hartford Steam Boiler Insurance Company inspecting boilers and making safety recommendations. The company took note of his talents and eventually he moved to Hartford, Connecticut and retired as an officer in the company. ********** There was not a happy ending for The Village, a least not for a long time. First, the bank closed. Then, the dry goods store closed and, slowly, the people began to leave the area. I visited the town while researching this story and found that, in the 1980’s and 90’s, there was a rebirth. Better highways made the commute to more populous areas of employment convenient, and a smaller community with affordable real estate became desirable again. Houses began to be restored. The school was rebuilt. Interesting, not a person I talked to knew about the accident. I could not even be certain where the mill had once stood. ********** Duke Chastain lived another 30 years. His obituary tells of what a fine man he was and his business successes - president of the bank, elder in the Methodist Church and so on. Funny, it never mentions that he once owned one of the biggest sawmills in the state. ********** Henry Evans never worked in a sawmill again. He got a job as a rural mail carrier, farmed forty acres, and continued to preach the Gospel. He is buried near Jordan Magee and Felix Smith in the church cemetery. His epitaph reads, “Miracles Occur But You Must Have Faith.”

John S. Case September 2020 19

Our friend and fellow Slidell business owner and resident, Laura Borchert, will have a challenging, but rewarding, journey this September. Laura plans to ride 300 miles and raise $3,000 this month for the Children’s Cancer Research Fund in support of its 6th Annual Great Cycle Challenge USA. Founded in 2015, Great Cycle Challenge USA has grown to become one of the biggest cycling events in the country. In just five years, over 230,000 riders from 50 states have ridden 18 million miles, raising more than $24 million for research and the development of better treatments and cures for childhood cancer. This year, the Children’s Cancer Research Fund hopes more than 100,000 riders will help them raise $10 million.

THE CHILDREN'S CANCER RESEARCH FUND invests in

HOW THE GREAT CYCLE CHALLENGE GOT STARTED: In 1979, 13-year old Katie Hageboeck was nearing the end of her 16-month battle with leukemia. Knowing she was losing her battle, she asked that the money she’d been saving for a 10-speed bicycle be donated to a little-known fund called Children’s Cancer Research Fund. Her dream was for a cure to be found so that other kids with cancer could survive. A little over a year after Katie’s passing, her parents and friends organized what they thought was a one-time benefit fundraiser to honor Katie’s dying wish. Decades later, this benefit is still taking place. Children's Cancer Research Fund has grown from a small, grassroots fundraiser into a national non-profit (501c3), with hundreds of thousands of individual donors, along with corporate and foundation partners, who have given nearly $100 million to pediatric hematology / oncology and blood and marrow transplantation physicians / researchers.

groundbreaking research that is leading to better treatments and cures for children with cancer. The Children’s Cancer Research Fund also funds vital family support services and advocates for childhood cancer education and awareness. Since 1981, donors have helped fund research that has revolutionized the way childhood cancer is treated worldwide. “Over 15,000 American children are diagnosed with cancer every year and, sadly, 38 children die every week,” said John Hallberg, CEO at the Children’s Cancer Research Fund. “Thanks to riders like Laura, we’re fueling groundbreaking research to save lives and give kids the brighter future they deserve.” “This is the fifth time I’ve ridden in the Great Cycle Challenge,” said Laura Borchert. “During those years, I rode 1,317 miles and raised $14,601.78. This year, I am aiming to raise $3,000 and ride 300 miles.”

SOME OF THE SLIDELL SUPERHEROES WHO ARE TAKING THE GREAT CYCLE CHALLENGE!

Terry Parrill 20

Paul Graff

Todd Lemoine

LAURA'S JOURNEYS: WITH BILL IN COPENHAGEN, RIDING IN RUSSIA, AND HER BILLBOARD SHOUT-OUT IN TIMES SQUARE THE GREAT CYCLE CHALLENGE encourages cyclists across the United States to challenge themselves and set their own personal riding goal throughout September to help fight kids' cancer. Riders fundraise on their own, with the help of links and payment methods through social media and the organization's website: GREAT CYCLE

CHALLENGE.COM The challenge is a passion for Laura, and one that she shares with her husband, even on their international travels. "When my husband & I boated to Cuba in 2017, I was able to bike around every day, training for my 300mile ride. Bill snapped a great pic of me riding along the beach at Marina Hemingway en route to Havana. We posted the pic on Facebook with the hashtag #GCCUSA and, within a couple hours, it was shared on a Times Square billboard promoting the Great Cycle Challenge!"

There are plenty of riders still needed! Laura says, "Anybody who wants to get on a bike and help us fight kids’ cancer should sign up now; it’s not too late to register! Set your goal for how many miles you challenge yourself to ride during September; and set your goal for how much money you hope to raise." There's even a fun twist in the challenge. "The GCC folks asked the kids we’re riding for to come up with an idea for a special jersey as an incentive for the top fundraisers. The kids came up with awesome superhero designs each year to acknowledge riders’ efforts. Wearing the superhero jersey, with the cool cape drawn on by the kids, makes me faster than a speeding bike, more powerful than a peloton, and able to conquer tall bridges in a single climb as we kick cancer's butt!" Laura says. What a great way to honor the little superheroes who are fighting cancer every day!

Michele Bond

Who wants to ride to fight kids cancer? Signing up is as easy as a click. Just visit the website:

GREAT CYCLE CHALLENGE.COM If you can’t jump on a bike to join in the ride, you can still be a superhero for the kids by donating. To make a donation for one of these great Slidell riders, please visit GreatCycleChallenge.com/riders/then find your chosen riders' name. Or you can drop off a tax deductible check payable to “Children’s Cancer Research Fund” at Laura’s office in Olde Towne (233 Robert Street between the Who Dat Shoppe & KY’s). If everybody pitches in a little, it’ll all add up to a lot. Thank you to everyone who rides, supports the ride, plays charity poker to raise extra funds, sponsors the challenge, matches donations, and especially, to the friends, family, and so many others who donated to the Children's Cancer Research Fund!

Brooklyn & Thomas Randi Crawford 21

Slidell: Our History The Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918 “Spanish Flu Is Boss of Everything.” ~ St. Tammany Farmer, 1918

“The virus makes the timeline.” ~Dr. Anthony Fauci, 2020

Story by Ted Lewis

What’s true today was just as true more than 100 years ago – when it comes to pandemics, man is never really in control. In the fall of 1918, what became a worldwide outbreak of influenza (commonly called “Spanish Flu,” although the first recorded case was at a U.S. Army base in Kansas and American troops were largely responsible for its spread to Europe) returned to the United States with a vengeance after a milder outbreak that spring. The disease, whose symptoms are very similar to the coronavirus, arrived in New Orleans in mid-September and quickly spilled across Lake Pontchartrain. And although the term “hot spot” had yet to be coined, Slidell was just that in St. Tammany Parish. At one point, more than 300 cases were reported in Slidell (population then about 2,700) compared to just 21 in Covington. Of Slidell, the St. Tammany Farmer reported “Nearly every household is afflicted or assisting the afflicted,” adding that five of the town’s six “telephone girls” were among the ailing. By late October, masks were mandated throughout the parish, most businesses 22

were closed and more than 45,000 cases were reported throughout Louisiana. No reason was given why Slidell was harder hit than the rest of St. Tammany. Disembarking railroad passengers from the city’s three rail lines most likely was the cause, as well as the presence of 1,500 workers at the Louisiana Shipbuilding Corp. located on the shores of Bayou Bonfouca. It didn’t help, either, that nearby Biloxi was another naval facility where the virus was discovered in September. The week of Oct. 19, 1918 would be the peak week of new cases reported in the parish, at 454. All rail passengers were being screened, if they were allowed off the trains at all. Before that, schools had been ordered closed until Thanksgiving week, along with “churches, theaters, movie houses and other places of amusement.” Public gatherings were prohibited, although “saloons, soda and ice cream parlors and restaurants” were allowed to stay open. St. Tammany’s biggest event of the year, the parish fair, was postponed from October to the final week in November. Ultimately, it would be canceled.

Recommended techniques for avoiding influenza were similar to present ones – including sneezing and coughing into one’s arm (“The influenza germ is transmitted by means of minute droplets, principally from the nose and throat of an individual suffering from the disease,” read a release from the Louisiana State Board of Health), and avoiding crowded situations. Social distancing, at the time called “nonpharmaceutical interventions,” was enforced thanks to a “move on” ordinance passed by the Slidell town council. Entrance to the post office was strictly regulated, along with a prohibition against spitting on the sidewalk. Not wearing a mask in public risked a fine of $30, more than many people made in a week back then. In New Orleans, social distancing included no more than one passenger standing for every two passengers sitting on the city’s streetcars. Nationally, the Public Health Service guidelines emphasized the “3 C's – clean mouth, clean skin and clean clothes” while also encouraging chewing one’s food well and breathing deeply.

However, Surgeon General Rupert Blue, whose experience included being stationed in New Orleans during the 1898 yellow fever epidemic, proved to be an overly cautious, ineffective bureaucrat whose indecisiveness delayed public awareness until the September surge was under way. Ironically, America’s entry into World War I the year before had curtailed some of the earlier spreading of the flu. Major League Baseball ended its 1918 regular season on Sept. 2, a month ahead of schedule. Babe Ruth, who had recovered from an influenza-like illness in the spring, led the Boston Red Sox over the Chicago Cubs in the World Series. The Southern Association also ended its season early with the New Orleans Pelicans claiming the pennant. College football (the founding of the NFL was two years away) was severely curtailed across the country, a combination of the draft taking many men into the military and an emphasis on military training on the campuses themselves.

By the time it was finally over, the virus had infected an estimated 500 million people worldwide and killed 20 - 50 million, more than the combined number of soldier and civilian deaths in World War I. Both Tulane and LSU, which had Student Army Training Corps units, did not field teams in 1918, as did about 2/3 of the nation’s other college teams, although several military installations had teams which competed against the colleges. Wrote Walter Camp in Spalding’s Official Foot Ball Guide, “The foot ball season of 1918 was the most peculiar in the history of the game.” Another war-related event - the closing of Storyville, New Orleans’ legal prostitution district, by orders of the U.S. Navy in November, 1917 - curtailed infections (and not just ones caused by the flu) as well. Considering that the Spanish Flu proved fatal for 20-40 year-olds in rates much higher than COVID-19, cutting back sports and legal prostitution saved countless lives.

In American, some 675,000 died. The U.S. population in 1920 was 106 million, so that would be equivalent of 1.9 million today, dwarfing our current number of fatalities, appalling as they may be. For more perspective, consider that more children under 9 died during the pandemic than in the next 25 years combined. It was a time of great sorrow throughout the nation. Even celebrations on Nov. 11, Armistice Day, ending World War I, were reported muted because of the fear of large gatherings spreading the disease. In fact, a massive war bond parade in Philadelphia was given as a reason that city and Pittsburgh were the only ones surpassing New Orleans’ death rate of 6.5 percent – 3,489 by April, 1919, out of 54,089 cases reported. And that was with strong government, civic, charitable and public cooperation.

Obviously, the numbers were smaller in Slidell, but they were bad enough. Such devastation brought out fears – along with hopes for a preventative agent, if not a cure. In Slidell, locally manufactured Mackie’s Pine Oil was advertised as having such power that, “The influenza germ can not live in its atmosphere.” “A few drops in a glass of water as a mouth wash or gargle,” began the instructions, followed by, “Put a drop on finger and stuff up nose, rub nostrils, throat and chest and sprinkle freely about the premises, and on your pillow at night. Use freely in the bath.” Presumably Mackie’s Pine Oil was not a cure. Neither was “Granny Chamberlain’s Cough Remedy,” in which Granny Chamberlain herself promised, “I know of nothing that will give such prompt relief as Chamberlain’s Cough Remedy, for when it is taken the pain in the chest disappears, the fever subsides and the whole body becomes more comfortable.” If only. Part of the reason even the better-researched treatments were ineffective was that the flu was thought to be caused by a strain of bacteria instead of a virus. With microscopes capable of seeing something that small not existing until the 1930s, resources were directed for treating the wrong cause. The virus had arrived in New Orleans when two ships, the oil tanker Harold Walker and the United Fruit Company

cargo ship Metaphan with a load of bananas from Panama, docked on Sept. 16 and 19 respectively with several ill and dying crewmembers aboard. Steps were taken to isolate the men, plus 56 others aboard another tanker which docked on Oct. 2, but things quickly got out of hand. The first local death was reported on Sept. 29, and the disease quickly spread up the Mississippi River and, as in the case of Slidell, in other directions. In two weeks, officials believed there were as many as 7,000 active cases in the area. Oddly enough, New Orleans should have been prepared to deal with the outbreak, having gone through several yellow fever epidemics in the past. Thanks to the war, there also was a strong Red Cross element there. Still, hospitals were overwhelmed. At Charity Hospital, all 17 wards were filled with influenza cases. Touro-Shakespeare Almshouse was turned into a 300-bed facility. In Slidell, the three-story building that is now Brock Elementary was converted into the city’s first full-scale hospital under the direction of Janie Dunham, who had been head nurse at the shipyard. The hospital remained full through the end of the year when the pandemic finally subsided. There’s no accurate count of the dead in Slidell and St. Tammany. But a listing of some of them in the Farmer gives an idea of the toll – “the King child, Hugh Arnold, John Godwin, the Seal child, Sam Bazetti, Perry Hardell, Mr. Bulloch, W.R. Porter.”

Bertha Neff, who headed the parish’s Red Cross Relief Unit during the outbreak, related in 1963, “When it came, it came with a whoosh. It was an entirely new thing. People were dying every hour.” Thankfully the crisis passed relatively quickly in St. Tammany, although a mild outbreak in New Orleans, Lake Chares and Shreveport in early 1919 revived fears that the pandemic had returned. The hysteria the first time was bad enough. A return would have been catastrophic. Instead, on Feb. 7, the danger was declared over. Even Mardi Gras was celebrated a few weeks later. In the century that followed, the Roaring Twenties, the Great Depression, World War II, Vietnam, the Civil Rights Era, the end of the Cold War and 9/11 pushed the enormous impact of “The Great Influenza” into the background. Said historian Kenneth Davis, author of More Deadly Than War: The Hidden History of the Spanish Flu and the First World War, of the lack of prominence of the pandemic in our historic memory, “It’s particularly complicated by the fact that so many people who lived through the Spanish Flu didn’t want to talk about it or remember it – even some of the doctors who were on the front lines of trying to figure out this medical mystery.” This year, we’ve been shown once again just how our power over disease is never complete.

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8/13/20

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MAKING By Mike Rich, CFP®

CENTS

Pontchartrain Investment Management

BOB AND LISA ARE READY TO INVEST. BUT, NOT SO FAST! PROTECTION

Last month, I introduced you to my new clients, Bob and Lisa, and how we intend to work together by focusing on the four domains of their (and everyone’s) financial life:

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Like many new clients, Bob and Lisa are eager to learn about investing, growing their money (we hope), and planning for a nice retirement. I reminded them, however, that protecting their money is just as important as growing it, because, sadly, we usually cannot fix bad financial events after the fact. Thus, we need to spend some time looking at their Protection Domain. For Bob and Lisa, I want to make sure their assets are protected from those “bad things” that seem to happen to all of us. For example, it makes little sense to use funds from their Cash Flow Domain to build assets if those assets are not protected from unforeseen events, such as a disability, premature death, or lawsuits. Likewise, I want to make sure their protection strategy fully replaces what might be lost, whether it’s the full value of their new SUV, or,

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because they both are breadwinners in their family, their lifetime earning potential. Finally, even though it is a long way off for them, I want to make sure they have a strategy for dealing with their senior years, especially the cost of long term care. Here are two of the areas Bob, Lisa, and I reviewed during our Protection Domain meeting: 1. We took a look at their car and homeowner’s insurance policies to make sure they have enough coverage. For example, Bob and Lisa’s kids, Jennifer and Matt, are young drivers, and the accident statistics are stacked against them. I advised them to call their property and casualty agent and consider the purchase of $1,000,000 of umbrella liability coverage to supplement the liability limits on their car and homeowner’s insurance. That way, if one of the kids causes a bad car accident and gets sued, Bob and Lisa’s assets are likely to be protected.

One million dollars might sound like a lot of money, and it is, but the coverage itself is affordable for most people. In fact, Bob and Lisa were pleased to find out that by raising the deductibles on their car insurance just a bit, they were able to pay for the umbrella coverage. Nice! 2. Bob and Lisa are both busy professionals, and their family depends on their salaries. They each have group life and disability insurance as part of their employer benefits, but with not nearly enough coverage to fully replace their future earnings in the event of a disability or premature death. For example, both Bob and Lisa are in their 40s, so they need at least 15 times their income in life insurance coverage to fully protect their family. Term insurance is probably the best solution for them, and we’ll be submitting applications soon. We also discovered that their disability policies had a lot of gaps, which is typical

of group coverage. Since Bob and Lisa are much more likely to become disabled at their age than they are to die prematurely, we’ll be doing some research on additional coverage for both of them. Even though Bob and Lisa want to get started on some serious investing for the future, we took a hard look at their Protection Domain first, because I don’t want unforeseen events to ruin their future. What about you? Don’t let bad things ruin your retirement. Call me today, and I’ll get to work for you. Mike Rich, CFP® Pontchartrain Investment Management 985-605-5064 michael.rich@lpl.com Securities and Advisory Services offered through LPL Financial, a Registered Investment Advisor, Member FINRA/SIPC This is a hypothetical example and is not representative of any specific investment. Your results might vary. The opinions voiced in this material are for general information only and are not intended to provide specific advice or recommendations for any individual.

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leans "Continuing Coverage" r O w e N f o b u l Donna Bush, Winner - 2019 Press C

Gardening Story & Photos by Donna Bush

How did you use your Covid-19 quarantine time? I know a lot of people took that opportunity to clean house and purge closets; others painted or dove into various household projects. One of my photographer friends took the time to go through boxes and boxes of slides, keeping only the best. While I should have cleaned and purged, and Lord knows I’ve got a lot of slides to review, I did neither. While discussing Covid with my friend Cheryl, she mentioned that she had planted okra and a variety of other veggies. I thought to myself, We love okra! Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could grow our own! Seemed like a trip to Lowes was in order, to buy okra plants. Not knowing anything about growing okra, container gardening appeared to be the best choice. At least with this option, our plants could be easily moved to find the optimal sunlight needed. I didn’t have enough dirt, so I recycled a pot with dirt but no plants, or so I thought! About 6 weeks later, imagine my surprise when ginger plants began coming up around the okra! They seemed to cohabitate just fine! After another conversation with Cheryl, it appeared that our garden needed an expansion. Our yard is fairly small, unless we wanted to plant veggies in the front yard. Definitely an option, but more container-type gardening seemed a better choice. I ordered the book “The Instant Box Garden Miracle: How to Grow Food, Flowers and Herbs in Small Spaces.” It sounded perfect for our small yard. My husband, Eric, agreed to help me build the containers. We would need untreated lumber to build the beds and then posts to raise it above the ground, to avoid crawling around on our knees to care for the plants. Composting appeared on the horizon after another chat with Cheryl. There were lots of pros to having two compost bins. One would be actively decomposing while the second one would have material ready to use. A bin that could be 28

during Covid-19 turned to keep everything mixed would be optimum. They are not cheap! The week before we were headed to buy lumber and commence construction, I saw a Facebook post from our friends, Paul and Julie Wood, displaying a really cool container tower that they were planting. Paul sent me the link and I began my research.

After researching, discussing with Eric, and weighing of pros and cons, we made the decision to order our very own Garden Tower 2. This would house 50 different plants and vegetables in four feet of space. It's really just the coolest set up! Each tray spins so you can easily reach plants to water and harvest. We added the optional wheel caster kit to allow easier movement once it was loaded and heavy! But wait! There’s more! The center is a vermicomposting tube eliminating our need for compost bins! What is a vermicomposting tube? It is a perforated tube in the center of the tower allowing you to load compost material into it. As the compost material breaks down, nutrients are dispersed into the dirt for the roots to pick up. Worms in the tube assist with the breaking down. Not just any worms. The best are red wigglers. Mine came from Uncle Jim’s Worm Farm, the perkiest of wigglers. I’m getting ahead here. So, let me backtrack. When the tower arrived, Eric assembled the caster/wheel kit and attached it to the tower base. Eight bags of Miracle Gro Performance Organic dirt and Dr. Earth All Organic Fertilizer Plant Food, and we're ready to go. I must admit, when I started this venture, I really didn’t know what I should plant or when. My tower arrived at the end of June and it was already pretty darn hot! Again, Cheryl provided advice, sending me charts on what to grow and when in south Louisiana, aka, Zone 9. Another

recommendation was the LSU Ag Center book, "Louisiana Home Vegetable Gardening," which seemed exactly what was needed. On the day of arrival, I quickly opened it and dove in, perusing each and every page. I mention this because, with the Covid lockdown, all of our mail and packages have been quarantined in the garage for two to three days. But I just couldn’t wait that long. June 28th: Up early; assembling the tower; carefully adding the dirt; mixing in the fertilizer and layering each ring. On my next to last ring, I ran out of dirt. I had come too far to stop now. I cleaned up and headed to Lowes for another bag. On my way inside I stopped to look at the vegetables. Wow! They must have received a recent shipment. Grabbing a cart - two different kinds of tomato plants, crooked-neck squash, straight neck squash, zucchini, Mexican tarragon, sage, purple basil, Italian parsley and some marigolds to help keep pests away. We were set! The seeds ordered earlier were ready to be planted – Mississippi pink-eyed purple hull cowpeas and big red bell peppers. If you’re from Mississippi (and I am), you’ve just got to eat purple hull peas! Back home with all my veggies and extra dirt, I finished assembly and began planting. Attempting to plant my first vegetables in the pockets, I realized I didn’t need more dirt after all. I had actually filled the rings with too much dirt, not leaving room for the plants. Okay, Lesson One in the books. 29

Additional References Check gardentowerproject.com for information on the Garden Tower 2 container. They have a learning resource center loaded with helpful tips and videos. Go to LSUagcenter.com to order the Louisiana Home Vegetable Gardening book and read other gardening tips. I also purchased a gardening journal to track the garden’s progress. Pollinators Concerned about not seeing a lot of pollinators in your garden? You can self-pollinate your tomatoes and peppers by placing the backside of an electric toothbrush (not the brush side) on the top of the bloom for 3-5 seconds to release the pollen. Organic treatment for pests Food Grade Diatomaceous Earth will combat many pests without harming your food, pets, pollinators or beneficial bugs. It can be purchased at many feed stores. BT (Bacillus Thuringiensis) is another treatment to get rid of caterpillars, worms, aphids, etc. with no danger. Purchase or attract pest predators such as ladybugs, lacewings, and hoverflies. Many plants, such as marigolds, echinacea, dill, fennel, parsley, thyme and mint often attract these valuable assets. Okra recipe My favorite way to cook okra is to slice it, sauté with diced up Vidalia onion in a small amount of olive oil. Add a little salt. Stir until okra is cooked and no longer slimy.

A happy discovery revealed that each squash and zucchini had 3 plants in each pot. I separated and placed one per pocket, labeling each with their correct name and the date planted. Most of the herbs included at least two, sometimes three, seedlings which were separated and labeled as well. Now it was time for the seeds. I decided the peas should go in the top ring with the tomatoes. Lesson 2: Just because they sell a plant at your local store - grocery or big box - doesn’t necessarily mean it will grow here, now. It was already way too hot for these particular tomatoes to make fruit. Pretty flowers but no tomatoes. Lesson 3: Tomatoes grow too tall for the top ring. You see, I had purchased indeterminate tomatoes – Better Boy and Celebrity. This meant that they continue growing taller and producing throughout the growing season. They are also known as vining tomatoes. Determinate tomatoes grow to a fixed mature height and ripen all their fruit within about two weeks; also known as bush tomatoes. Before the tower arrived, each time we cooked, the scraps from anything green - avocado peelings, broccoli stalks, sweet potato skins, etc. - was saved for the vermicomposting tube. Once the planting was complete, it was time to add some compost material. Recommendations said that a handful of greens followed by about four inches of browns was the optimum ratio to keep happy and healthy worms; and to discourage fruit flies.

Browns can be plain brown paper; cardboard with no ink, such as paper towel rolls; and/or dried leaves and small sticks. Lesson 4: Don’t add anything with seeds to the vermicomposting tube. There’s a high likelihood of the seeds taking root and sprouting from the tube, causing a significant issue. Lesson 5: Add crushed eggshells in with your greens. Worms have gizzards and need the grit of eggshells to process their food. Each morning, I would eagerly check the tower. Like a kid on Christmas morning, I was elated to see the peas sprouting from seeds through the dirt; the blooms on the squash and zucchini plants; flowers on the okra that quickly became okra pods. I had become Farmer Donna! Lesson 6: Don’t plant herbs and peppers in the ring underneath vining cowpeas. Two basil plants were choked by the vines. The red peppers are not getting enough sun in the ring below the cowpeas. Soon they will be moved to a lower ring. There were so many beautiful flowers on the squash, surely any day now a baby squash or zucchini would appear. But days and weeks went past with only flowers. Google and YouTube provided answers - squash and zucchini produce both male and female flowers; and all of ours were male! Without a female flower, we’ll never get a baby squash. YouTube enlightened me to not despair, it would just take time for the female flowers to appear.

The weekend of Tropical Storm Hanna, I learned another reason to not plant tomatoes in the top ring. After receiving 7-8 inches of rain and more in the forecast, it was time for drastic measures to protect the plants from being inundated. In a MacGyver-like move, I took an open golf umbrella and Gorillataped the handle to an old broomstick. Shoving the broomstick down the center of the tower, next to the vermicomposting tube, provided some cover from the additional 4 inches of rain. Without the tomato plants in the top, the umbrella would have garnered a bit more protection. After the rain finally stopped, I surveyed the tower. Oh no! The squash and zucchini looked like they had melted, much like the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz. I was so upset! I was kicking myself for not covering the tower sooner. I posted pictures on the Garden Tower Project Facebook page, asking if indeed the plants had just received too much water. To my dismay, I learned that my squash and zucchini had been attacked by squash vine borers! These orange and black or gray moths lay their eggs around the base of squash, zucchini, and pumpkin plants. Once the eggs hatch, the larvae chews its way into the vine and happily eats for the next two to four weeks. Additional research revealed that they may also bore into the fruit. In our area, there are usually two generations per year. Several gardeners on the FB page recommended surgery to save the squash. Supposedly, you can take a sharp knife, cut into the vine and remove the larvae; then cover the incision with dirt and hope more roots sprout. Sadly, the surgery was unsuccessful. Lesson 6: Don’t plant squash, zucchini, or pumpkins in southeast Louisiana until at least mid-August. Per Louisiana Home Vegetable Gardening, “Plant squash from mid-March to late May for late May to July harvest; plant August to mid-September for harvest from midSeptember through November.” Another cool design trick of the tower’s vermicomposting tube is the drawer and screened tray in the base of the tower. The drawer captures excess water complete with nutrients, known as "compost tea." This can be used to re-water the tower or other garden plants.

an organic form of fertilizer that is very beneficial for growing veggies. At four weeks, there were lots of broken-down greens and baby red wigglers. Success! Lesson 8: When emptying the compost tube, it is useful to have buckets into which you can separate worms, castings, greens and browns. Lesson 9: The ideal temperature for red wigglers is 55 - 77° F. Of course, our summers are much warmer than this. One of the FB group Garden Tower Project posters recommended placing a frozen water bottle wrapped in newspaper in the top of the tube to help keep the worms cool! As of this writing, I’m excited to say we have plenty of pinkeyed purple hulled peas, okra, sweet banana peppers, sage, basil and tarragon. Fall crops planned are tomatoes, squash, zucchini, sweet potatoes, broccoli, radishes, dill, and cilantro. Regardless of what you’ve accomplished or not accomplished with your quarantine time, I encourage you to consider gardening. You can take the container route that we took, or find the type that suits you and your space the best. It’s a fantastic way to commune with nature, soak up some vitamin D, eliminate waste by composting, and produce healthy food for you and your family. Final Lesson: Don’t be afraid to ask for help on the FB page. The members are extremely knowledgeable and willing to help!

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Lesson 7: It’s helpful to have a watering can where you can offload excess "compost tea" until needed. The manufacturer recommends emptying the tube every 3-4 weeks to prevent roots from growing into it. This is accomplished by removing the screened tray and pushing compost into the drawer below. Worm castings are produced by the worms as they eat their way through the compost. The castings are

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“Your Estate Matters” By Ronda M. Gabb, NP, JD, RFC

If you are not from Louisiana, or if you have not lived here for a very long time, you may want to sit down before you read this. Louisiana is a Civilian Law jurisdiction, not Common Law like the other 49 states. Our laws stem from the Code Napoleon, yep, that Napoleon—Mr. Bonaparte himself. So here we go…only Louisiana has what is called “Forced Heirship.” Pretty much like the name implies: under certain conditions, our law “forces” you to leave your “heir” something. That something is called the LEGITIME (pronounced: LEDGE-A-TEAM). In Louisiana, if you have children under the age of 24, or children of any age with special needs or disabilities, our law requires you to leave them an inheritance. Your grandchildren with special needs can also be your forced heirs if your child, who is their parent, has predeceased you. This is why planning for families with special needs children (and grandchildren) in Louisiana is such an important and meticulous process. If you have forced heirs and your Last Will and Testament leaves your spouse everything in full ownership, you have now left your loved ones a real mess. Our law does not allow the spouse to inherit everything when there are disabled children or children under age 24. I wish I could tell you that I don’t see Wills like this drafted by local attorneys,

Legal-ease

but I do, all the time. I can understand if a grown child, or grandchild’s, disability was unknown when drafting the Will, but I am referring to Wills that actually address the “minor” children and still leave all to the spouse! It is also very common for people who move to Louisiana with Wills or Living Trusts from other states that leave each other everything. I have never seen a Will or Trust that was drafted outside of Louisiana that properly complies with our forced heirship issues. How much is the “legitime”? The legitime (“forced portion”) can never be more than 50% of your estate, so you are always free to leave the remaining 50% (the “disposable portion”) to whomever you wish. The minimum amount of legitime is 25% of your estate, or an intestate child’s share, whichever is less. What we mean by an “intestate” share is an equal amount based upon the number of children you have. For example, if you had 10 children and only one is a forced heir, then the legitime would be 10%, not 25%, as that 10% amount would be less. A good rule of thumb is that with four children or less, the minimum legitime is always 25%, and with five children or more, the legitime is 20% or less. The forced portion and the disposable portion will always add up to 100%.

By now, I have probably made you very nervous, but relax…with a properly drafted Will or Living Trust, a surviving spouse will never notice the difference. An experienced estate planning attorney will assure that your Will/Trust not only comports with Louisiana’s unique laws but will also allow the surviving spouse to retain a lifetime “super” usufruct over the legitime that gives the spouse 100% complete control and sole authority over all the assets. Additionally, if any of your forced heirs with special needs are receiving Medicaid benefits, we will draft a special needs trust to hold their legitime so they will not lose their Medicaid eligibility. A little history here is needed, prior to 1996, this “legitime scheme” was due ALL children, regardless of age (with minimal archaic exceptions). Since then, however, if your child is 24 or older and is not disabled, you are free to leave them as much or as little inheritance as YOU choose. So now, with the legitimate exceptions explained above, an inheritance should be a gift and not a right. Yet our phones still ring and a grown, perfectly healthy child, is trying to claim an inheritance as a “forced heir,” which would take assets and control from their surviving parent, to which they are not entitled. Sometimes, there IS an “I” in Legitime!

See other articles and issues of interest! Ronda M. Gabb is a Board Certified Estate Planning and Administration Specialist certified by the Louisiana Board of Legal Specialization. She is a member of the American Academy of Estate Planning Attorneys, National Academy of Elder Law Attorneys and the Governor’s Elder Law Task Force. Ronda grew up in New Orleans East and first moved to Slidell in 1988, and now resides in Clipper Estates.

40 Louis Prima Drive (off Hwy 190, behind Copeland’s) • Covington, Louisiana • (985) 892-0942 • RondaMGabb.com