Lepers in Louisiana: The Story of Carville

I was recently in a bookstore looking for a couple books to bring on a trip, when a book called In the Sanctuary of Outcasts caught my eye. The book, written by Neil White, promised to discuss the last leper colony in the U.S., which I had heard was located in the town of Carville, LA. White was convicted of bank fraud and sentenced to serve time in a low-security federal penitentiary. At the time he was sentenced he didn't realize that he would come to meet, and later accept as friends, those with Hansen's Disease - more commonly known as leprosy.

The book, of course, spends a lot of time talking about White's redemptive journey from being a selfish, serial check-kiter to someone who is somewhat less selfish and very understanding of those who suffer from Hansen's Disease. (It's a fine book overall, but I was a little unconvinced of any deeper transformation.) More interesting to me were the bits he included about the facility itself.

The colony welcomed it's first patients in the 1890s. Unfortunately for the patients, moving to Carville was usually not their choice. Many were ripped from their homes as children, and lived their entire lives at the leprosarium. The stigma of Hansen's Disease is strong – a stigma that dates as far back as the Bible or beyond. In the beginning, most residents faced mandatory quarantine at Carville. Decades later, residents were given the option to leave. Most chose to continue to live at Carville – perhaps knowing that the outside world would not be accepting.

In 1921, the U.S. Public Health Service took control of Carville, and it became the National Leprosarium of the United States. In 1986, the facility became the Gillis W. Long Hansen's Disease (Leprosy) Center, named after a U.S. Congressman who advocated for those with Hansen's Disease. In the late 1990s, the center officially moved into Baton Rouge, although a museum remains. The rest of the grounds, as I understand it, are now primarily used by the Louisiana National Guard.

In the airport on the way home, I decided to look at a map. I had heard of Carville, and knew it was fairly close to Baton Rouge, but for some reason I thought it was on the other side of the river. I was surprised to see that not only is Carville on the same side of the river as me, but it was shockingly close to my house. In fact, when I recently rode the White Castle ferry, I needed only to take a left turn to see the compound. I knew immediately that I needed to do a blog post about it.

After doing some research the last couple of days, I decided to set out toward Carville this evening. Unfortunately the pictures are not my best work. The compound is completely fenced in and there is virtually nowhere to stop and take pictures. I was also a little flustered by the military police around. Nevertheless, here is what I saw.

Getting close.



These photos are of Indian Mound Plantation, the sugar plantation that became the leprosarium.







White discusses the Catholic Church located on the colony several times. I assumed this was it.



Note the covered walkway on the right. At one time, it was thought that avoiding sunlight was helpful to those with Hansen's Disease. Thus the covered walkways throughout the compound.



This appeared to be one of the dormitories. It may have been home to Hansen's Disease patients, federal convicts, or both.



Although it was almost chilling for me to see these buildings in person, I know that these photographs may not satisfy your curiosity. More photos of the colony can be found here, if you'd like to learn more.

I've been jotting down ideas for more posts lately, just need to find time to get out and do the photography. Hope to do another post soon.

Be the One - Sign the Petition, Restore the Gulf

Here's the link: http://www.restorethegulf.com/

Independence Day on False River

In prior posts, I've mentioned that my in-laws have a camp in Jarreau, LA, on False River. False River is an oxbow lake – formerly part of the Mississippi River that cut itself off in approximately 1722. Today, in addition to the many people that live on the lake year-round, it is also home to scores of “camps.” The term “camp” was a new one for me when I moved to Louisiana. I was used to “cabins” or “cottages” in the Midwest. Pretty much the same concept.

Each year on Independence Day, False River holds a boat parade. In many ways, it's similar to a Mardi Gras parade, in that there's an over-arching theme, plenty of music, and things being hurled from the floats. Oh, and lots of booze. The things being hurled are typically water balloons. More on that during today's photo exposition. The theme this year was “What Does BP Mean to You?” Here we go – happy birthday, America!

These first few picture the boats as they were staging a ways down the lake. Note the two people floating in the water in the first picture. This is a key part of the strategy – you put swimmers in the lake to collect any water balloons that didn't reach the pier.







One of the BP-themed boats.







“Miss Oily 2010.”



This was my favorite one of the day.









Boat-to-boat combat.













These flags were flying at a nearby camp. The dixie flag is rendered in LSU colors.











Take note of this boat. Many of the boaters carry nets so that they can catch incoming water balloons, or fish unbroken balloons from the water.









This young man is pictured launching a water balloon toward my beloved family.



Two direct hits below.









These guys were keeping things safe.



This party barge was built from pure Cajun ingenuity. It looks like more fun than a barrel full of monkeys – it has a bar, ceiling fans, a killer soundsystem and a bathroom. However, it definitely looks like it's testing the limits of buoyancy.



Your scribe and photographer.



This is “Deuce.”







Things were starting to settle down, all the water balloons had been used.





Finally, some time to relax.

The Spill

Notice the difference? Photo: Charlie Riedel/AP

On my way to work this morning, NPR did a story on the interrelationships of businesses in South Louisiana, and how the ongoing BP oil spill is affecting businesses from engine repair shops to businesses that sell ice. One of the business owners interviewed was from a company I had called on in Houma several months ago. When I made my sales call, he had a little over 100 employees. In the interview this morning he said he is down to about 70 because they can’t keep their guys busy. When the oil spill shuts down the fishermen, shrimpers and oystermen, they don’t need to use their boats. If they aren’t using their boats, the boats are unlikely to need repairs. When the engine repair shop struggles, it affects other businesses that try to do business with them, even businesses like mine that have nothing to do with fishing, oil, or any other offshore activity.

I can’t imagine what it must be like for the families for whom – for generations – life has centered around the gulf. This blog is about my experiences in this part of the world – learning the geography and culture. But even for someone who has only been here for a few short years, the stories and images of the spill are crushing. I hope that each of you that read this blog has had the opportunity to see or hear interviews with residents of South Louisiana over the last several weeks. If you have, you’ve undoubtedly seen or heard someone who has been beaten down by hurricanes, the economy, and now an oil spill. I recently heard James Carville speak, and he says he feels like Louisiana is under attack. I wouldn’t blame the men and women of the gulf coast for one moment for feeling that way. Yet for the most part, these men and women retain their unique sense of humor and joie de vivre, and have been their usual kind, courteous, welcoming selves to the onslaught of media.

If you’re wondering how you can help, allow me to make one simple suggestion: keep talking about it. One of my friends on Twitter lamented last week that #oilspill no longer shows up in the “Trending” section. Two things not to do: do not boycott BP, and do not support the ban on offshore drilling, as contradictory as that may sound. Boycotting BP, as I hope everyone has heard, only hurts the independent owners of BP gas stations – not the larger company. On a half-joking note, we also want to make sure BP remains solvent long enough to fix this mess. In terms of the offshore drilling ban, it may seem strange that we in Louisiana want the drilling to start again, given the mess at our doorstep. But one must understand that the oil industry provides thousands of jobs for Louisiana men and women, and the current ban only exacerbates the economic problems faced by the businesses, like the engine shop described above, who rely on those boats going out to do their jobs every day.

There are websites where you can volunteer to help with the cleanup if you wish. However, I have not been contacted yet to volunteer. Furthermore, I had lunch last week with a coastal studies professor from LSU, and he said on a visit to the beach a day earlier, there were 10 people cleaning up for every tar ball on the beach. Monetarily, you might consider donating to a wildlife organization. Last, you might buy one of these t-shirts. Each shirt nets $5 to Tri-State Bird Rescue, and they’re not bad looking. 

Finally, some of you may be wondering, since this is primarily a photoblog, whether I can get any pictures of the effects of the spill. From what I've heard, BP has made it fairly difficult to get anywhere near the affected areas. So I doubt I'm going to be able to take any pictures of oiled pelicans. However, I do have an appointment in Houma later this week. If I see anything oil spill-related, I'll try to take some photos.  

Comings and Goings

Hello, dear reader. My travels have slowed down a bit over the past few weeks, but I've still been out taking a few photos. I'm not sure when I'll be able to do another cohesive post, so I thought I'd tide you over with some miscellaneous stuff I've seen over the last month or two.

First, here are a few pictures I took in and around my home parish of Ascension Parish about two months ago. These first few are from the town on Donaldsonville.







“Art Bank”






These next couple were taken in Iberville Parish on the same day. They were right next door to each other, and look like replicas of famous River Road plantations. The first is clearly a replica of Oak Alley Plantation. I know the second one looks familiar but I can't place it. Perhaps one of my South Louisiana readers can help.





This is a little hidden gem tucked off River Road in Ascension Parish, seemingly abandonded.





These next few were seen along LA-3127, primarily in St. James Parish.



You can find out more about the picture below here.



I saw these sugarcane trailers near the road in St. Martin Parish.



A whimsical (South-Louisiana-related) photo taken in our pantry as I was working on macro shots. My wife asked why I was taking pictures in the pantry. There's really no good answer for something like that.



These next few were taken in Napoleonville, in St. John Parish. Napoleonville probably warrants a more detailed post somewhere down the line.







E.D. White Historical Site, located near Thibodaux. (More information here.)



Neat building in Napoleonville.





These next few were taken a couple weekends ago at my in-laws' camp at Flase River, in Point Coupee Parish. False River is an oxbow lake – formerly part of the Mississippi River that cut itself off. The first couple are of a charismatic duck that had laid her eggs in the yard right next to the bulkhead.







Practicing macro again...



An abandoned pier on False River.



Have I mentioned that LSU is a pretty big deal here? At some point I will get over to campus and do a post about it.



Next couple are Ascension Parish again.



This one makes me sad. Alligator Bayou Tours was a jewel of Ascension Parish. You can read about the controversy that forced its closing here.



Manchac Road, which runs through the Spanish Lake basin.





Now in Iberville Parish.





To wrap up our little excursion, here is a house I photographed last weekend near St. Gabriel.





That's it for now, but I received my Father's Day present early (below, along with a tripod generously lent by my lovely mother-in-law), so keep your eyes peeled for better and better photography in the near future.