pt at large

Chile 2012: A Promenade Through Plaza de Armas

January 15, 2012

A lazy mid-summer Sunday afternoon in the Plaza de Armas, Santiago, Chile.

There’s a universal feel to great public spaces like the Plaza de Armas. I’ll bet if you were to have Scotty beam you down to public squares in Rome, Paris, Stockholm, Boston, and other capitals, you’d see nearly the same scene on an afternoon such as this.

People relaxing on sunlit benches or patches of shade, kids feeding pigeons, tourists with maps in hand, vendors pedaling anything that might tempt the passersby and even a group of ardent Evangelists. The people-watching is spectacular, an unending spool of human interest stories in motion or at rest.

  

 

 

The architecture surrounding the square is renowned for its examples of colonial construction including the Palacio de la Real Audiencia (now the Museo Historico), the Correo Central (post office) and the Catedral Metropolitana.

A moment after pushing through the giant doors of the cathedral I am stunned. Auditory static vanishes. I’m engulfed in an ocean of deep silence so abrupt I regress to split second pre-conscious memory of comfortably floating in amniotic fluid.

Every bit of sound inside seems to be sucked into the cavernous space soaring up to the mile-high arched ceiling overhead. Daylight is filtered through stained glass windows. Pencil thin shafts of sunshine poke through dainty round skylights.

The relative silence is so overwhelming that it takes time to register that the silence is not total. I begin to distinguish hushed voices of visitors, occasional uninhibited cries of infants, and echoes of shoes on marble floors. Last to penetrate my range of hearing is the Gregorian chant piped in at nearly subsonic levels, astonishingly refreshing, rooting me in an oasis of tranquility.

My autonomous nervous system is recalibrating. My body downshifts. I am aware of my breathing, the places where I am holding stress, and the level of stimulation I’ve left behind.

We are dwarfed by the scale of the cathedral and the provenance of religion that still clings to it. But this is not a pilgrimage. Some have come to sit and relax, some to sightsee, some to pray. It’s hard not to feel tiny and mortal in the prodigiously huge edifice.

The shock of exiting the cathedral is intense. The jabber and clamor outside startles me as much as the silence on the way inside. It is hard to believe that the world we live in is filled with so much sight and sound, chaos that we take as normal.

Re-establishing reality...commerce and connecting with a local family.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

Chile 2012: A Promenade Through Barrio Bellavista

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Santiago, Chile

I have three hours to spend in Santiago while my hostess Susaan Straus attends a birthday party with some of her “Chilespouse”  friends. The options to spend the time are plentiful. My picks for today -   the Barrio Bellavista and the Plaza de Armas.

Later this afternoon Pio Nono, the main street leading into the Bellavista section of Santiago from Banquedano Square, will be jamming – the café tables will be pulled out onto the sidewalk and filled with students and young professionals. At 1 PM on Sunday, the café society has yet to rev up. What is ramping up is the foot traffic over the Maipu River heading straight into the Barrio Bella Vista.

 

Groups of families, and I mean the whole family - fathers, mothers, little kids, the occasional grandparent, a sprinkling of tourists, and groups of teenagers all stroll leisurely down the quiet street that ends in an explosion of activity at the base of San Cristobal Hill.

A digression:
Chileans, especially on a weekend or late afternoon, have walking down to an art form, an act of promenading, casual, slow, and sweet. They savor the moments being out and about. A promenade of ten minutes, 20 min., half-hour, might evolve into an entire afternoon or early evening of leisure. Strollers chat, are free of care for the moment.  Brisk is not in the vocabulary.

The reward at the end of Pio Nono is the entrance to an immense aviary and the funicular that ascends a good sixty degrees up the sheer hillside to the tippy top of San Cristobal Hill to the Parque Metropolitano. On a clear day you can see all the way to the Andes.

The neighborhood used to be a bohemian enclave. Bohemia is losing ground fast to trendy and chi chi places like the Patio Bellavista, prices escalating accordingly. If you look around, you can still find some cool night spots, like the Café  en la Aire, where 2 years ago, I heard a great duo playing blues, in Spanish. Another influence on the growth of the neighborhood is the new Universidad San Sebastian (top photo) built on a space occupied by a sprawling flea market the first time I visited here five years ago.

I only have time for a bare bones walk up and down this street and to quickly poke into the streets along it. Time to head back across the river to the Metro at Banquedano Square. More leisure time awaits at the Plaza de Armas.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

Chile 2012: Big Day At The Farm

Chilefarms, the farm owned and operated by Ricardo Ceriani and Susaan Straus
V Region
Nogales, Chile
Nogales is approximately 70 miles north of Santiago, in a fertile valley between the Pre-Cordillieros de los Andes to the east and the Coastal Range to the west. The Mediterranean-like climate is ideal for growing fruits, vegetables, and flowers.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Life on the farm is as busy as it gets today. Along with harvesting corn and blacksmithing Ricardo's rodeo horses, there was lots more activity.

A grass fire along the road near the farm destroyed 600 meters of phone and internet wire. Today, five days later, and three days after I arrive, service was restored to Chilefarms. The internet tech resets the cable box at the farm - we are online again!

Apricots have short season. Pick 'em from the tree near the farmhouse with Susaan and Voila! Apricot Crisp!

There are several other fruit bearing trees on the farm: lemon, walnut, quince, figs, clementines, apple, and avocado.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

 

Chilefarms 2012: A Master Blacksmith Shoes Ricardo's Rodeo Horses

Friday, January 13

Chilefarms,Nogales,Chile, V Region

Preparation for the rodeo is time consuming. Let alone the hours Ricardo practices with his rodeo partner Don Mario Lopez, there is the matter of packing everything in the truck for weekend at the rodeo, this weekend in Con Con, a small beach town several kilometers from Vina del Mar.

The four of Ricardo's horses he will take are well rested. After the blacksmith re-shoes each of them, they are washed down lovingly by Juanito Perez with shampoo and conditioner. Their manes have been clipped and coiffed in the style traditional Chilean rodeo requires. Their thick black tails have been combed out thoroughly, so when they whisk their tails it is a graceful flick that fans and resets every long strand. By the time he is done, the horses smell better than I do.

The blacksmith is an artisan of the highest level. During a period of a few hours, he and his assistant will re-shoe each of Ricardo's rodeo horses. The process is methodical, thorough, and efficient. There are no wasted motions, and no wasted time.

The old shoes our pried off, the nails securing them are pulled out. While his assistant holds up a hoof, the blacksmith deftly cuts away the cuticle growth of each hoof, and files it down so it is smooth and will allow the new shoe to fit well and comfortably.

The blacksmith chooses the shoe of the correct size and weight for each horse, using a micrometer to check for the distance between the open ends of each hoof. With his assistant holding the horses hoof, the blacksmith pounds nails into the shoe carefully, the ends of each nail protrude on the outer side of the horses hoof. Later the assistant will clip off the bitter end of each nail and file it down smoothly.

This process is done every 6 weeks during the rodeo season in the summer. In this winter, the horses are “free,” says Ricardo, no shoes, no practice.

The horses don't fuss one bit as Juan Sanmartino pries, cuts away cuticle growth, files it down to smooth the surface of the hoof, refits new shoes, pounds nails through, and refiles the clipped ends of the horseshoe nails.They're getting a day at the spa and they have the horse sense to know a good thing when they get it.

Teresa and Juanito, Chikefarms caretakers who live in a small cottage next to the barn, have set out Ricardo's ancient wooden stirrups, polished his boots,organized the saddles and saddle blankets. Ricardo picks out his best bridles, reins, bits,and other equine equipment.

By 7:30 AM, Ricardo and his horses will be on the way to Con Con.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

 

Chile 2012: Sr. Pampino's Trucks Haul Choclo from the Farm

Friday, January 13, 2012

Nogales, Chile,V Region

Chilefarms in Nogales was rocking today. Sr. Pampino’s trucks rolled down the gravel road to the barn at mid morning. The produce wholesaler's trucks arrive at the farm on Tuesdays and Fridays to harvest Chilean corn (choclo pastelero),American corn, cantaloupe, and any other crop ready for market. Today, Pampino's men and Ricardo's farm workers team up to pick over 10,000 ears of corn.

Each man grabs four ears at a time. They count the handfuls as they heave them into Sr. Pampino’s truck. At each hundred groups of four, Patricio makes a hash mark for the tally.

Patricio has the pad and is taking the tallies. Don Pedro (in his tan hat) watches him, corrects  him when he makes a mistake.This is the first year Don Pedro has given up the writing of the tally. His mind, however, is as good as any Excel spread sheet. Tens of thousands of ears of corn will be harvested. Don Pedro will be confident the count will be correct.

The system this year has a new wrinkle. Last year, the men carried baskets into the field, filled them, carted them to the bed behind tractor, which hauled it the open area near the barn where they sorted it and threw it into the wholesaler's truck as they counted it.

For the last two days of harvesting, Patricio drives the tractor through the field and mows down a swath of stalks. Men follow along, pick ripe corn on each side of the swatch that’s been run over, as well as corn from the fallen stalks and heave it onto the bed behind the tractor. When the bed is full, tractor and men head for the barn to separate primo (large) from secunda (smaller) corn and load it onto Pampino's trucks.

The verdict: Ricardo prefers to revert to the tried and true system. It’s an open question which method harvests more corn but mowing down the stalks makes it harder to clear the field for whatever is planted next in this field.

The men joke around. Teasing and good-natured banter seems to be the way to make the day go easier. After two weeks at Chilefarms, I am reminded how far removed I am from the food chain and how labor intensive the process is that makes it possible for me to buy fresh fruit and vegetables any month of the year.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

Chile 2012: Corn fields, tomato garden, orange groves

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Nogales, Chile, V Region

Chilefarms,owned and operated by my friends Susaan Straus and Ricardo Ceriani, who live here from November to May and in Newton,MA, from May to November. Ricardo was born in Quillota, 12 km from here. He knows this area like the back of his hand. Susaan crunches the numbers, Ricardo oversees the daily operation.

Both jobs require attention to detail and an ability to absorb the uncertainty and unpredictability that are part and  parcel of farm life. After all, they're dealing with Mother Nature; farm equipment that can be temperamental; horses, dogs, cats, and cows that have to be cared for; and a rural culture that operates within its own time honored chronology. Patience is a virtue here, along with its sidekick, persistence.

Internet service is intermittent, uploading can be dicey,  electricity goes down occasionally for an hour or a day or more...so, let's begin with photo essays.

Sacamos Los Hijos

Don Pedro and a co-worker “sacamos los hijos” (“we take the children”). They tear away the ‘suckers,’ the small offshoots from the main stalk. This will promote straight and robust growth of the main stalk and result in better yields of the American corn in this field.  The two men chat away. The everpresent transistor radio attached to Don Pedro's belt streams his favorite Mexican music or news. This relentless two man machine  will work their way through this field till the job is done. Strong backs are essential. Don Pedro's life is dictated by the seasons. He planted the seeds for the corn in this muddy earth, he will prune it, water it, weed it, and harvest it. When the corn has been cut down, he will determine what crop would best be planted next.

 

"Hola, Don Paul!" shouts the man in the field. Amazing. Julio, the man who I photographed last January doing the same thing, greets me with a big smile. Julio, his niece Marcella, and his son Sebastian, use sickles to sever the 6 foot tall,dry Chilean corn (choclo) a few inches from the ground and pile it in sheaves. Rural symmetry is at work. Julio will cart the stalks to his home on the hillside near here and use them to feed his livestock. Ricardo's four regular farmhands can focus on other work, saving time and expense. While I was here, Julio's mother brought Ricardo a wheel of goat cheese as a thank you gesture.

Juan Vila collects the tall thin poles, "colihues", from the bases of orange trees. When the trees were  planted, these poles were like “tutores”, as Ricardo calls them, that kept the navel orange trees growing straight when they were young. They've done their job and will be stored for future use. Hardly anything is used once and done. Everything on the farm, actually everything in rural Chile, can have alternate uses or is stored to use again. This is recycling as it is known in every rural society.

Remember those "colihues"? In the space of one hour, Don Pedro weeds Susaan's tomato garden, drives colihues into the ground, makes an ingenious trellis, ties the tomato plants to it, and is on to the next project.

Don Pedro lives with his family on a plot of land Ricardo and Susaan earmarked for him. He worked for the previous owner, has worked this land for decades, and knows it as well as he knows his own children. He is 70 years old. He has the energy of a man decades his junior.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

Bill Ives: A magnet for Louisiana music, food, and culture

My friend Bill Ives, born in New Orleans, is a big time music lover. Now living in Cambridge, MA, Bill incorporates a ton of his business and cultural interests , including a huge helping about New Orleans, in his blog. His grandmother ran the well-known Columns Hotel on St. Charles Avenue in the 1950s.

Bill spent a week in mid-December driving from New Orleans to Lafayette, Eunice, Opelousas, Henderson, then back to New Orleans. He planned a jam-packed itinerary - restaurants, dance halls, museums - even one radio station where he met with Herman Fuselier, radio host with a deep understanding of roots to blues music, entertainment writer, and TV show host, at his office for KRVS in Opelousas.

Bill and I have regular pow-wows before and after our trips to Louisiana. Check out his latest post about his December trip. You'll get an idea of just how much fun he can pack into one week!

Scroll down the "Categories" list on the right side and click on New Orleans and Louisiana to find great photo essays about Louisiana, including all the posts about this one. And stay tuned...there are more to come!

 

Food, Friends, House Parties: A Louisiana Way of Life

15th Annual Carrier Family Dance
Lawtell, Louisiana
January 1, 2012

“How you doin’?” says the man as we walk off the dance floor wiping the sweat off our faces. Chubby Carrier and his Bayou Swamp Band is in the middle of a smokin’ set of Zydeco at the Carrier Family Festival in Lawtell so I’m doing pretty damn well.

I launch into the litany of reasons I love this part of Louisiana. High on the list is the all-encompassing sense of friendliness I feel from people here. "When I was in Lafayette last March, a man in a local bar drew me a map so I wouldn’t get tangled up in traffic on Mardi Gras day."

“That’s the way we are down here,” the man says. “We aren’t trying to impress anyone, I don’t even think we know that we do it.” Surely there are random acts of kindness performed by strangers at home in Boston. There is nothing random about the friendly behavior here.

“I first came down here in 2008 and my life hasn’t been the same since,” I say with a grin. "I didn’t know much about zydeco and cajun music. This week I flew down here  from Boston to dance to it for five days straight!" . And I tell him I never tasted gumbo or po boys or shrimp etouffee before then. “I never ever even heard of couchon de lait. Now I can tell whether or not gumbo has okra in it.”

Ricky Norman’s eyes twinkle. “I was raised in an okra patch,” he says,” with chickens and corn and pigs all around. We put up most of our own food. When I was about nine years old, I remember my father doing “boucheries”, slaughtering three or four hogs and making all kinds of food from them. A local TV station came by years ago to record the event and a museum in Lafayette has photos showing the whole process."

A generation or two ago, boucheries were usually held at homes on a rotating basis, a way to distribute fresh food to the families in the area in a time when country folk had no refrigeration. Boucheries were also social occasions in which tales were told, updates regarding romance, good or ill fortune discussed, and perhaps singing and dancing.

The hog's meat, internal organs, brains, and intestines were all used for some kind of food. Gratons (cracklins) were made by frying the skin, and boudin, sausage filled with hog’s meat and internal organs and rice, still are favorites here (and unknown in Boston). It is said that nothing was wasted in the process of butchering the hog except the squeal.

Ricky put two kids through college while working on an oil rig in the Gulf, two weeks on, five days off.

“My kids found jobs in California and Manhattan,” he says. “They warn me in advance that they want some home cooking when they come home to visit. Every time they leave, they take a cooler of food with them because they say their friends want to try some of the food they’ve heard them talk about.”

“Something else that knocks me out are the house parties people throw around here,” I shout over the music. “Parties I go to around Boston might have ten to twenty people. I just went to a house party yesterday that had over 100 people AND a live band!”

Ricky claps his hands together. “I'm 56 years old.That’s one of the first things I’m doing when I retire!” he shouts. “People throw house parties here all the time. I have a big concrete patio. I’m going to put a roof over it, get some lights going and my wife and I will be holding our own house parties.”

I'll bet that if I had asked for an invitation, he’d have put me on his guest list.

Photo by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

Keeping Roy's Dream Alive: 15th Carrier Family Festival

15th Carrier Family Festival
January 1, 2012
Roy Carrier’s Offshore Lounge
Lawtell, Louisiana

Chubby Carrier (far right, accordion) and the next generation, on washboard (left), playing next to washboard player Earl Sally

Directions--go into Lawtell on the one way street, turn right at the first gravel street (McClelland), go over the railroad tracks, immediately turn left onto Perry & go to the club. This will be a fund-raiser for renovations to the club so it can reopen on a regular basis.

These are the kinds of directions you often get in southwestern Louisiana. Roy Carrier’s Offshore Lounge was so deep in the country that my GPS could not find the place. I plugged Lawtell Louisiana in the little black box and headed about 25 miles north from Lafayette. Crossing into Lawtell, I jammed on the brakes when I nearly passed a black and white hand-painted Offshore Lounge sign tacked onto a pole.

Yep, gravel street…there are the railroad tracks…another hand painted sign, then a few hundred yards down the road a dirt parking lot in front of a low, rectangular one story building.  A thin gray cloud issuing from a huge smoker floats under the roof of the overhang in front of the club.  Music is pumping from inside. I’ve arrived.

Lawtell has a population of 174. There are more people than that inside this dance hall.

Zydeco dancers are an eclectic bunch, black/white, young/old, urban/rural, from every social class. They’re also loyal. When they heard that Roy Carrier’s musician sons, Troy "Dikki Du" Carrier and Chubby Carrier wanted to honor their late father Roy by reopening his Offshore Lounge, which had fallen into serious disrepair, they flocked to a 2011 New Year's Day Keep Roy's Dream Alive fundraiser at Slim’s Y Ki Ki in Opelousas. At least ten of the areas best bands played that day for zip. The family raised $6000.

Today, Dikku Du Carrier has a one day permit to open for the Offshore Lounge for a fund raiser.  We’ll dance to Chubby Carrier & the Bayou Swamp Band, Dikki Du & Zydeco Krewe, Dwight Carrier & the Black Cat Zydeco Ro Doggs, Corey "Lil Pop" Ledet, "T" Broussard, and Lil' Pookie.

Dikki Du Carrier needs to raise a serious chunk of cash to pay for a septic system and rebuild according to updated building codes. Today, dance loyalists who've homed into the Lafayette area for New Year's celebrations gladly pay $20 a pop for admission, buy Roy Carrier CDs, T-shirts and fried chicken, red beans and rice, gumbo and BBQ. They also write checks on the spot.

Roy’s family has a long slog to keep Roy’s dream alive – but making dreams a reality was a Roy Carrier specialty. When Roy bought the tumble down roadhouse in 1980, it became a place where he fostered the talents and dreams of some of the best known musicians in Louisiana – John Delafose, Beau Jacques, to name two, and gave young Geno Delafose his first paying gig.

Not surprisingly, Roy's father and uncles were musicians and he began playing with them at age ten and he kept on playing till he died in 2010.

With both of Roy’s sons playing their hearts out on the stage, The Offshore Lounge was showing definite signs of life. In one or two more years,  the place may again become the spot where the next generation learns their chops.

NOTE:
If you would like to contribute to the "Keeping Roy's Dream Alive" cause, write a check to Troy "Dikki Du" Carrier and send to Richard Brainard, 813 SW Alder St. #700, Portland, OR 97205.
As of January 13, 2012, $5500 has been raised toward the goal of $10,000. Read Troy Carrier's letter to learn more about how the Carriers will use the money.

 

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

 

Roy's Offshore Lounge might need repairs but the BBQ being smoked is first class.

 

All kinds of helpers dish out the food/pt with Dikki Du Carrier
 

Chubby Carrier and The Bayou Swamp Band/Dikki Du Carrier's son Troy, Jr. on drums and niece on washboard - the third generation of Carriers to play!

 
Fun on the dance floor...Chubby Carrier arrives to play.

Keeping Roy's Dream Alive: 15th Carrier Family Festival Videos

 

 

 

Tulane President Connects with KIPP Foundation, named one of two New Orleanians of the Year

Tulane President Scott Cowen was named one of two New Orleanians of the Year by Gambit Weekly of New Orleans. The  locally owned newspaper has been publishing for thirty years. Gambit Weekly is one of the most successful weeklies in the country, and the recipient of numerous annual awards for editorial and design achievement.

Tulane University President Scott Cowen has announced a partnership with the KIPP Foundation and Teach For America - a huge investment in New Orlean's future.

The New Orleans school system was a disaster way before Katrina. As in much of New Orleans, recovery is a work in progress. The series I wrote about the KIPP McDonogh 15 School for the Creative Arts gave me a window into the charter school movement and a sense that these schools have a chance to restore faith in public education. One school is certainly a small sample but it was a hopeful one.

According to The Gambit news story,

"In 2011, Cowen signed a first-of-its-kind agreement with the Knowledge Is Power Program (KIPP) New Orleans charter schools and the KIPP Foundation to enroll more KIPP graduates in Tulane — and to place more Tulane teacher certification program students in KIPP schools. He also cemented a partnership between the Cowen Institute and Teach for America to increase the number of Tulane graduates who will teach in New Orleans public schools."

I will revisit the KIPP McDonogh 15 School for the Creative Arts on my next trip to New Orleans.

http://ptatlarge.typepad.com/ptatlarge/2010/09/new-oleans-charter-schools-and-recovery-part-1.html

http://ptatlarge.typepad.com/ptatlarge/2010/09/new-orleans-charter-schools-and-recovery-part-2-1.html

http://ptatlarge.typepad.com/ptatlarge/2010/09/new-orleans-charter-schools-and-recovery-part-3.html

http://ptatlarge.typepad.com/ptatlarge/2010/09/new-orleans-charter-schools-and-recovery-part-4.html

http://ptatlarge.typepad.com/ptatlarge/2011/08/revisiting-the-kipp-mcdonogh15-school-in-new-orleans.html

A “Start Your New Year’s Early Party Party” in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana: Video

 

A “Start Your New Year’s Early Party Party” in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana

December 31, 2011
A “Start Your New Year’s Early Party Party” in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana

You didn’t have to guess which house was 116 Van Buren in Breaux Bridge this afternoon. The live music drifting out onto the street told the story. The owner had invited, oh, about one hundred of his friends, and out-of-towners who he’s known from their previous visits, and people like me who he met two nights ago at the Café des Amis.

Maybe it’s the dance community, maybe it’s a Southern Thing, but I’ve no sooner met someone here than they turn to one of their friends and say, “This is Paul, he’s from Boston,” and they bring me into their conversations without skipping a beat. And, damn if they don’t remember me the next time we meet, offer me a seat, a dance, a drink, but above all, a sense of belonging that’s as natural as breathing for them.

My friends Bernard and Rubia, who I met on my first trip here in 2008, told Bart, the owner of 116 Van Buren, that I’d be at the Café des Amis Wednesday night. Bart, the tall guy I’d seen dancing every dance since the minute I walked into the café, walked up to me and said, “You must be Paul,” and handed me a yellow invitation to his house party. That’s the way it goes here.

Al Berard, fiddle, Forest Huval, accordion

I love my hometown of Boston but every time this happens, I feel like Dorothy…”I’m not in Kansas any more.”

In other parts of the world, a steady rain puts a damper on a party. Not here today. We all duck under the roof over the tiny concrete dance floor that also happens to be the patio of Bart’s house. Between the thick rainy air and the density of sixty people vigorously dancing in a space no larger than a living room, I feel like I'm in a school of sardines at a sock hop.

Couldn’t find a baby sitter for your kid? No problem. Bring him/her along. Adults will come by to talk to them and more than likely ask them if they want to dance.

What are the essentials of one of these house parties? A good local band, a covered space attached to or next to your house, tables for the food and beverages (preferably under a little pavilion) the guests will bring, and a portapottie. The guests don’t have to be told to bring lawn chairs – they’re probably stored in the trunks of cars for most of the people who live around here. Yankees take note: these camp chairs have built in cup holders on each arm. Don’t even consider buying one without this feature.

Then there’s the question of dancing. Up north, men are not known to dance at social functions unless under duress from their women or the influence of alcohol. Here a man will dance at the drop of a hat. With as many women as he can find. The women will all say Yes to an invitation. And they will often make a man feel like a winner of Dancing With The Stars. Dancing is one of the languages around here. It’s the way men and women connect. Slow and sultry, peppy and strong, elegant or rambunctious, all dictated by the tempo of the music and the chemistry of the pair.

People here hail from homes two minutes to 2000 miles away. Some of them, like a small group that Breaux Bridge travel organizer Kay Wright has assembled, have never danced a lick of Cajun or zydeco music in their lives. No matter.

No one can resist the infectious beat of Al Berard’s fiddle, and the accordion, drum and guitar player he brought with him today. The new-comers are learning the steps in that happy mass of dancers or are being introduced to Kay’s friends on the lawn. It’s a fair assumption they will be back, perhaps for Mardi Gras.

That would be a fair assumption for me, too.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

Al Berard, fiddle, Forest Huval, accordion,Keith Blanchard, drums,Dwayne Brasseaux, guitar

Everybody dances...Bart thanks his guests - we thanked him back, big time!

"Would you tell me the names of the men in the band?" I ask. "Sure, says Dwayne Brasseaux, give me your pen and pad."

A Honky Tonk Merry Go Round at the ARTmosphere in Lafayette

Honky-Tonk Merry Go Round
ARTmosphere
902 Johnson Street
Lafayette, Louisiana

Thursday, December 30, 2011

Last night was the closest I've felt to being bowled over by a dry land tidal wave, a benign force of nature in keys of A or C or D-flat, that washed over a room full of spectators at a little bar called ARTmosphere in Lafayette, Louisiana.

Joel Savoy decided to organize a celebratory end of the year jam. A talented musician and producer for his label Valcour records, the guy knows just about every up and coming singer, songwriter, and musician in the Cajun community surrounding Lafayette. Tonight, Joel had a honky-tonk merry-go-round in mind. What ensued was a kick out the doorjambs night of honky-tonk, country, rockabilly, and certified rock 'n roll.

With the exception of fiddler David Greely, everybody else who paraded to the stage hasn't seen much of this side of 30. Joel Savoy (fiddle), Chas Justus (guitar), David Greely (fiddle), Wilson Savoy (piano), Rose Sinclair (steel guitar), Eric Frey (bass), and Glen Fields (drums), got the show rolling and then it was, ”Move the chaise lounges back from the shore, mama, this wave is coming on strong.”

Rose Sinclair, David Greely, Eric Frey, Chas Justus, Glen Fields, Joel Savoy, Wilson Savoy

Every one of these musicians could carry a show all by her/himself. They play in bands like The Red Stick Ramblers, The Pine Leaf Boys, Bonsoir Catin, Steve Riley and The Mamou Playboys, Girl Howdy, The Savoy Family Band, Lafayette Rhythm Devils… the list goes on.

Although they know each other, they rarely have the chance to rock out together. The result was playful, pedal to the metal, full bore performances.  They let it loose like kids at recess.

Traditional Cajun music may course through their veins but doesn’t limit their inspiration. Local radio stations across south central Louisiana play an astonishing variety of country, rock n roll, swamp pop, rockabilly, blues, and rhythm n blues. The fire these performers breathed into the songs they covered showed that they’ve been paying attention.

Yvette Landry rocks out

From time to time Kelli Jones, Joel's fiancé, and Emma Young, who often sing with The Mamou Playboys, and JP Harris stepped onstage to solo and backup. Singer Linzay Young, country singer extraordinaire Yvette Landry, mandolin player Daniel Coolik, fiddler Courtney Granger and several more whose names I didn’t get stepped on to the crowded stage when Joel shouted their names.

ARTtmosphere was jammed with friends and relatives of the musicians, regulars from town and, since New Year is two days away, visitors who learned about if from the grapevine – in my case from my friends Bernard Ussher and his wife Rubia, who have their fingers firmly on the pulse of the vibrant music and dance scene here. Dancers had a field day with every style of two-step you can imagine, Mamou jitterbugs, waltzes, swing, Cajun gigs, and steps they made up on the spot. It was that kind of night.

This short list of songs I could remember are a fraction of those performed tonight… from honky-tonk to country to rhythm ‘n blues…  for this reporter, a New Year never got a better jump start than this.

“Don’t Stop The Music” Cajun waltz
“Let’s Fall To Pieces Together” George Strait
“It Won’t Be Long Before It’s Crying Time” Ray Charles
“My Shoes Keep Walkin’ Back To You” Ray Price
“She Thinks I Still Care” George Jones
“I Think I’ll Just Stay Here And Drink”   Merle Haggard
“Hand Me A Bottle” George Strait 70s
“Let’s Have A Party” Wanda Jackson
“Hallejullah I Just Love You So” Ray Charles

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr - Photos of pt by Bernard Ussher

 

The musicians were feelin' it...

and so was pt, dancing with Michelle Kaminsky of Magnolia Cajun Band

Horace Trahan and The Ossun Express Rock The Blue Moon Saloon

Blue Moon Saloon
215 East Convent Street
Lafayette, Louisiana 70501

Horace Trahan and The Ossun Express
December 29, 2011
10 PM

Horace Trahan and The Ossun Express are in the midst of their first set. The dance floor is the size of a baby wading pool. About sixty people want to dance on it.  Newton’s Law of Physics - you know... the one about 2 things not being able to occupy the same space at the same time, appears to be disproved as well over 60 people are dancing shoulder to shoulder and are surrounded like a second skin by another sixty pressed against the perimeter. You dance real small, and occasionally tight, which suits me fine. Nothing like a crowd of intense dancers at close range to charge up a band.

This is just another normal night of dancing around here.

“Well, we have a couple here from Washington DC, first time in Lafayette, first time at the Blue Moon. Where else you from?” says Mr. Trahan.

An avalanche response. Washington, Oregon, San Diego, Philadelphia, Florida, Missouri, Wisconsin, and of course, Boston. New Year's Eve is two days away. Once you have a Cajun or zydeco bug, you will travel great distances to dance to the real deal with people who drink the same Kool-Aid.

It is true that some people love the music but keep their feet planted. Their butts wiggle, their heads bob and they listen to the music as if it were a concert. But most have come to dance. Horace puts on a great mix of zydeco, bluesy slow drags, waltzes sung in French, and a surprising mixture of hip-hop tinged zydeco.

Whatever woes might be going on in your life, problems, challenges, fiscal woes, are booted out of your consciousness as soon as the music takes hold of your psyche and your feet. The blues will come back into focus about an hour after you leave the dance floor, but while you're there, honey, they have retreated underground like crawfish on a cold day in January.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello,Jr.

Pont Breaux Cajun Restaurant and Dance Hall

Pont Breaux Restaurant
325 West Mills Avenue
Breaux Bridge, LA
December 29, 2011

Thursday night, December 29, 2011

“Let's do waltz across Texas in the key of D,” says Lee Benoit to his band. The shiny wooden dance floor fills up and here we are, in another universe, on a planet with music at its center, with a sun that nourishes, heals, blows cares away, or sings about them in a way that turns heartbreak into soothing poetry. That planet, of course, is southwest Louisiana, Breaux Bridge, to be specific, tonight at The Pont Breaux Restaurant.

Gen X, Y, and Z are in scant attendance but there is plenty of Gen AARP. They’re rocking, but not in chairs.

Lee Benoit and The Bayou Stompers have a request for the Beatles “Love, Love Me Do,” and they play it in a two-step cadence! It didn’t draw many people to the dance floor but it does give you the idea that the music sensibility here does not stop at the borders of Louisiana - or of the USA for that matter.

The band plays “Jolie Blonde” (considered to be the Cajun National Anthem) - that fills the dance floor in a jiffy. I can't believe this. The next song they play is “I Want To Put On My Boogie Shoes” to a cha-cha beat that one couple manages to dance to with a jig. Arthur Murray would tear his hair out here.  No gold, bronze, and silver levels of dance lessons. Men and women hit the floor and channel the music in whatever way twitches their synapses.

Next comes a waltz sung in French. Damn, these seniors have some of the smoothest moves I've seen on any dance floor. When Mr. Benoit gets into a good ol’ Louisiana Swamp Pop song, “Why Should I Call Your Name,” I wish I had come here with a date.

I digress to the subject of dance halls. In some, like Randol’s and Pont Breaux, if you don't come with a date, the chances are 90% that you'll spend most of the evening in your chair. Go to a place like Grant Street or the Blue Moon Saloon, and you’ll find a partner for every dance all night long. The place is filled with singles and couples but even the couples switch off and dance with others. My kind of place.

A ruggedly built middle-aged man approaches my table. “How you enjoying yourself tonight? My name is Rudy LeBlanc, I’m the new owner here.” A man scribbling in a notepad and taking photographs is  someone to check out.

“This place was closing down last October and I decided to buy it. When he was six years old my son Blazien, who’s always loved music, got invited up to the stage by Lee Benoit. The kid had never stepped foot on a stage. I had taught him how to play Mary Had A Little Lamb on his little guitar, he did it perfectly. I never forgot that.”

Blazien is 17 now and in high school. “Tonight he’s playing in the band for about 1000 people, and soon he’s going on a cruise to play for a few hundred people.”

Family dance halls like this are where youngsters learn to dance. Don't be surprised to see a teenage boy dancing with his grandmother at places like this.

“I just could not let this well-known family restaurant disappear or maybe become some kind of chain franchise. I wanted to buy this place because of that experience with my son and because I wanted Cajun tradition to thrive. Business picked up since October. Lots of locals have come back and Lee’s band is here every Thursday and Friday for nearly twenty years–it's a very big draw.”

Next thing I know the band is playing a Creedence Clearwater revival song, a souped-up version of “Lodi”. This little quartet of accordion keyboard guitar and drums can cover songs like gravy over grits. Lee Benoit and The Bayou Stompers tonight - Lee, his wife on guitar, daughter on drums, and an electric piano player sitting in for their regular fiddler. They do know how to have fun.

When I return, I’m bringing a date. And I’ll bring the Lee Benoit Band CD that I bought and ask him to autograph it.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

I've met dozens of people who've been so taken by the spirit of southwest Louisiana that they've picked up stakes and moved here... like Janet Wilson, who left Highlands, North Carolina, and closed on a house in Breaux Bridge two days after this night!

Visit with Herman Fuselier at KRVS, Opelousas

Thursday afternoon, December 29, 2011

Louisiana hospitality...Herman Fuselier, on air host of "The Zydeco Stomp" on Opelousas station KRVS, has invited me to visit him after I emailed him during his December 24 show. The St. Landry Parish Visitor Center, on a small parcel of land just off I-49 at exit 23, where he has an office, is one of the "greenest" buildings in the state.

I'm welcomed at the front desk by Miss Gloria. Cheryl Castille (pictured below with pt), on air host of the singer/songwriter/folk roots program "The Exchange", and Celeste Gomez, Director of The St. Landry Parish Tourist Commission, pop out of their offices and greet me warmly.

Herman Fuselier, is as easy going in person as he sounds on his radio program. Thanks to Herman, after our half hour conversation, I've drilled down one more layer into the fascinating history of the music in this part of the country. I would venture to say that south central Louisiana is the most fertile territory for cross-pollination of music genres in the entire world.

Story to follow... 

 

Sustainable features of the center include a water cistern, wind turbine and photovoltaic panels.

 

But the best feature is the people who work inside!

The Huval Family Band rocks The Cafe des Amis

Café des Amis
Wednesday December 28, 2011
http://www.cafedesamis.com/
140 East Bridge Street
Breaux Bridge, Louisiana 70517


The Huval Family Band holds court Wednesday evenings at the Café des Amis in Breaux Bridge. With Brazos on fiddle, Jebb on bass, Luke on guitar and vocals, and Chad on accordions, the family (twelve in number and most of them musicians) must make up their own voting block in town.

By the time I arrive at 8 PM the place is packed with the usual suspects, mostly local folks, including a big table with Wilson Savoy, his brother Joel (members of another celebrated Louisiana music family), and a bunch of their music loving friends.  Breaux Bridge octogenarian Floyd LeBlanc, who has an official chair in the place, is leaning against the bar. Then there’s Elsbetta from Denmark, Jennifer from Texas and Mary Lou from Arkansas, Bart from down the street who invites me to a New Year’s Party at his house around the corner, and others I recognize from previous trips here.

The Huval brothers are playful presences. A roomful of people are tapping their feet, smiles spread across their faces. A little boy pulls his auntie to the dance floor to try out his steps.  

There’s something about this place that makes strangers feel at home. Tourists who are clearly envying the men and women having such a grand time are asked to dance by local dancers. In a Breaux Bridge minute, they ease into the rhythm, their tentative grins widen with each two-step they try.

Of all the experiences they’ll talk about when they arrive home, none will be told with more passion than the moments on the Café des Amis’s worn wooden dance floor and the generosity of spirit that permeates the music here.

For this Yankee, it’s hard to beat dancing a waltz with a woman singing the French lyrics softly in my ear as we navigate carefully around the packed tables. Café des Amis, indeed.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.


Dancers find places to dance between tables, three generations enjoy the music...

and Floyd LeBlanc is right at home on is "official" chair.

St. Landry Parish: Opelousas, Birthplace of Zydeco

St. Landry Parish
Louisiana

OK, we take history seriously around Boston. The thousands of tourists who visit here can visit Paul Revere’s house, the Old North Church, the USS Constitution, Bunker Hill and scores of historic sites in Lexington, Concord, and other places that feature prominently in history books.  The temporary seat of government for the infant United States of America is a quarter mile down the street from my house in Watertown, twenty minutes from Paul Revere's house in Boston.

My impression that we have a corner on the market of American history hit a speed bump when I began researching St. Landry Parish in advance of meeting Herman Fuselier at the St. Landry Visitor Center in Opelousas, Louisiana.

The Poste de Opelousas, an outpost of the French government, was one of the first European settlements in Louisiana. Contributing to its rich cultural history is that the outpost was subsequently governed by the Spanish and was later settled by English, Irish, Scots, and Germans. The fertile prairie land was a godsend to these pioneers who farmed (rice is a big crop here) and raised cattle on the 933 square miles of the parish.

Adding to the mix were black slaves arriving with European settlers in the early 1700s. To further spice things up, people who became known as Creoles, blacks with Caribbean or Haitian roots, blacks who were free people of color, and others with mixed Spanish or French blood, began to settle in the area in the late 1700s when the Spanish were granting land rights to all comers. Less is known of the Attakapas Indians who lived in the area.

Creoles and Cajuns stamped the region with their music. Opelousas is considered the birthplace of Zydeco. Vermillion Parish on its southern border is often credited with being the birthplace of Cajun music but neighboring parishes contest that. Many credit Amadee Ardoin, a native Creole from Opelousas in St. Landry Parish, as the father of Zydeco music. In true Louisiana style, both genres borrow from one another and both have loyal dance followings.

Louisiana might just be the musical crossover capital of the world. Listen to contemporary Creole and Cajun music and you'll hear influences from blues, country, rhythm n blues, honky tonk, and swing along with traditional songs carried forward from generations past. Creole and Cajun - the ultimate koan: they are different and they are the same. Trying to separate them cleanly is like trying pick bits of okra from a good bowl of gumbo.

Opelousas, let alone the other 12 cities and towns in the parish, has a ton of attractions.

Here’s a starter list:

• The St. Landry Parish Visitor Center to see Herman
• Le Vieux Village where the old train depot was located and now houses the •Louisiana Orphan Train Museum.
• Opelousas Museum & Interpretive Center.  The Center is comprised of a Main Exhibit Room, The Civil War Room, The Geraldine Smith Welch Doll Collection, and The Southwest Louisiana Zydeco Music Festival Archives.
• The Creole Heritage Folklife Center
• The Evangeline Downs Track and Casino where my friend Bill Ives took in some good music shows.

Gee, I won't have time to do more than a sliver of this itinerary during this holiday week…what a shame. I’ll have to come back.

Photo by Paul A.Tamburello, Jr.

Herman Fuselier's Zydeco Stomp: A Gumbo of Music, Culture, and Community

Zydeco Stomp radio show –A Gumbo of Music, Culture and Community
Hosted by Herman Fuselier
“Zydeco, Blues and You and Me from 12 to 3…”
KRVS 88.7 FM University of Louisiana, Lafayette, Louisiana

Herman Fuselier is the entertainment editor for the Lafayette (La.) Daily Advertiser newspaper and a music columnist with The Times of Acadiana in Lafayette and Offbeat Magazine of New Orleans. He broadcasts Louisiana music shows on KRVS 88.7 FM in Lafayette and KDCG-TV 22 in Opelousas.

Friday, December 23, 2011

“Herman Fuselier does a great show every Saturday. You can listen to it online,” my friend Bill Ives told me as he recounted a 9-day whirlwind pilgrimage in which he crisscrossed highways and byways from New Orleans to Eunice. Bill’s visit with Herman at the St. Landry Parish Visitor Information Center in Opelousas was one of the many highlights of his trip.

A New Orleans native now residing in Cambridge, MA, Bill planned his trip around visiting restaurants, dance halls, and cultural attractions. Judging by the stories he told me at lunch, he packed it in tighter than shrimp in a po boy from The Taco Sisters restaurant in Lafayette. I take his advice.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Listening to the Zydeco Stomp on December 24th was a revelation for me. “Zydeco, Blues, You and Me, From 12 to 3” is Herman’s tag line. With his playlist of Zydeco, Swamp Pop, Rhythm ’n Blues and straight up Blues, he didn’t disappoint.

By the time his show is over, I have a good a feel for the charm, history, and pride that animate music that echoes around parishes (counties) in southwest Louisiana.

Zydeco and Cajun music are played all over southwest Louisiana. They have evolved from two distinct cultures. Herman has written that Zydeco emanates from a Creole culture that stretches back nearly 300 years from descendants of slaves, Creoles mixed with Spanish, French or American ancestry, and free people of color. Zydeco became recognized as a distinct genre of music in the 1950s.

Cajun music began to flourish in Louisiana when French speaking people migrated to the bayous in southwestern part of the state in the mid 1700s after being expelled from their homes in Acadiana in Canada by the English.

Zydeco and Cajun each have their own dance styles (that's another story). It can get complicated, yes, but the great thing is the way the musical cultures have borrowed from each other. Listen to Herman’s Zydeco Stomp program and you’ll get a sense of the luscious intermingling of blues, rhythm ‘n blues, swamp pop, with a pinch of Cajun.

"Glad you enjoyed the show. I try to make it fun and informative. Zydeco has always been influenced by mainstream music, especially blues and R&B. So I'm just trying to connect the dots," Herman says in an email.

"Clifton Chenier is heralded as the King of Zydeco and rightfully so. Listen to his music and you'll hear Ray Charles, Fats  Domino, Sam Cooke, Glen Miller and lots of other mainstream pioneers. Some of their songs he simply changed to French and made local hits out of them."

Herman's on-air style is warmly personal, evokes a strong sense of place, and demonstrates a deep understanding of how genres of music are interconnected (Fusilier played local artist Lynn August singing a zydeco-style cover of Bobby Blue Bland's "Lead Me On"...amazing!).

Herman occasionally zips amusing voice overs into the songs in his wide ranging playlist and gives shout outs to listeners emailing into him today from North Dakota to Houston. "Merry Christmas to you, your lovely wife and those two awesome boys of yours," texts one of Herman's listeners. (Herman gave me a shout out at the 2:11 mark on his December 24 show!).

It felt like he set aside three hours to put together a puzzle. Song by song I began to get the picture of the roots of zydeco music, the men who played it, and the way their music influenced other musicians.

Down here, if a man sings or plays an instrument, the chances are his brothers or sons or cousins or uncles are in a band somewhere. Herman plays John Delafos, Geno’s late father; Jude Taylor, Curley Taylor’s dad; Clifton Chenier, C.J. Chenier’s late dad…you get the idea. I’ll bet that the only sense of competition musicians here have is who can have more fun playing.

“Zydeco is the blues and the blues is zydeco,” says Herman, “and it doesn’t have to be played at 900 miles an hour to be good zydeco, Boozoo knew that” as  he cues up “Driftin’ Blues,” by the legendary Boozoo Chavis. I was thrilled. I knew the man’s name but had never heard him sing. Great introduction.

Today, Herman plays several songs as a salute to James Brown, ‘The hardest working man in show business,” who died on Christmas Day 2006. Herman got into JB’s slow drag, “Try Me,” and “Santa’s Got A Brand New Bag,” and a handful of other James Brown classics that demonstrated his enormous versatility and surprising range.

The gem of the afternoon for me was the godfather of soul’s bluesy rendition of “Let’s Make This Christmas Mean Something This Year” - as heartfelt as any carol I’ve ever heard, with a powerful message deserving of wide circulation.

Thank you, Herman, Merry Christmas!

Robert B. Parker's "Double Play": An Audio Book Tour de Force

Double Play, a novel published in 2004
Robert B. Parker
A five CD audio book produced by Phoenix Records and read by Robert Forster (audio book link has sample of Forster's reading)

The combination of the late Robert Parker’s tight prose and Robert Forster’s laconically graceful interpretation has the poetry of a well turned double play. Parker invents one character, WWII veteran Joseph Burke and spins a yarn about a very real Jackie Robinson who breaks the color barrier in major league baseball in 1947.

Ex-Marine Burke, shot up at Guadalcanal, comes back to the states on a hospital ship with a body that can be repaired but an emotional life drained of hope and aspiration by his experience of war. After a short-lived boxing career, he’s taken on as a bodyguard for the 25 year-old spoiled daughter of a New York crime boss. He survives using his wits, strength, and lack of fear of dying.

Burke is let go after too zealously protecting Lauren and is recommended to Branch Rickey, owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers. Rickey hires him to be bodyguard for Jackie Robinson, whose presence on the baseball team will certainly provoke antagonism, and perhaps worse, amongst racist fans.

The conversations between Robinson and Burke, who keep each other at arm’s length as they travel and room together, deepen as the season progresses. The surprise of the book is Parker’s ability to have his finger on the pulse of race relations in the late 1940s and bring it to the surface in the dialogue between Robinson and Burke, two tough men who at first don’t seem to share much else than a desire to succeed at the job they’re paid for. 

Burke is the center of a matrix involving a historic moment in American history and a world filled with gang bosses who fight over turf and nurse dangerous beefs with each other. The scrapes with cops, criminals, gang bosses, a headstrong woman – all are imaginatively overlaid with the day-to-day drama of Robinson’s first year in the big leagues.

Robert B. Parker was 15 years old in 1947. You can visualize him hunched over a radio to hear history unfold. If you remember the way you cherish memories from your childhood, the kind that transport you with emotional clarity when you recall them, you have an idea of the well from which he drew to write this story. He seamlessly inserts play by plays of hits, errors, pitchers, and batters through Burke's eyes as he sits near the dugout, peanuts in one hand and his .45 tucked in his belt. Forster’s reading is elegant. He channels Burke as perfectly as Parker has drawn him.

Parker usually paints the inner life of his characters with a broad brush but here, perhaps thinking about the story from his teenage obsession with Jackie Robinson and what he endured in 1947, Parker takes the time to penetrate Burke’s incapacity to access his feelings and to illuminate his upbringing (perhaps reminiscent of Parker's) that instilled his egalitarian values.

The beautifully imagined intersection of the lives of Burke, Robinson, and Lauren Roach paints a picture of three characters with universal appeal and an era now remembered in sepia tones. The enormous power of Parker’s prose and Forster’s reading drives this story right out of the park.