The Spillway Stretch (edited 2012)

I've been looking through my mess and found a bunch of lost pictures. They are of some very remote spots, and as such, should be displayed to the general public as few will ever venture to these places for personal reasons or the fact that it makes no sense to go there. Below are instructions, guides and explanations to make your virtual visit go well. Bon Voyage. Open the map below in a new window. The yellow line is La. 10. It is gravel La.10 from La.77 to the Atchafalaya River where it continues west on a two car ferry with a limited schedule. Everyone knows this but may not have actually gone to see it. The orange line is a railroad built by the T&P RR or a predecessor. I have the vague application and documentation for it somewhere. The location of this stretch is common knowledge, also, but you may have not seen it either. The white line is something I saw from the air when Mark and I were doing the McNeely (sp?) Siding investigation. That got sidetracked but is still an active investigation. I say it was an earlier route. Whatever? Why was the investigation curtailed? Mark's blimp sprung a leak. You can't imagine the noise and how fast a deflating blimp can climb, then drop. The red line is highway. Below the yellow line is La.77, above the yellow line is La.10 going into Morganza, La. Morganza is where the Easy Rider boys visited the cafe. Mark has a girlfriend there. Some say two girlfriends, but I think there's only one the way he talks about her.

  

On with this short ride. Leaving the pavement of either La. 1o or 77, you head west over the Morganaza Spillway levee. Be careful, the shoulders of this road are rounded. Louisiana, in its dire need for funds, has started issuing licenses for sign hunting. This one has been hit a bunch but has not been officially bagged, so get yourself a license and try to bring her down. Then you can mount it for all of your friends to admire.

  

The levee is a big one. You would want it that way. 

The river carries 1/3 of the Mississippi's flow on a slow day.

  

A sign reassures you that you are not crazy or now lost. 

That statement may be untrue.

  

There are more reassuring green DOTD signs. You aren't over 

10 tons, now? It is my guess that Texas Calvary General Tom 

Green came riding down this road to defeat the Yankees south 

of Melville at this place called Fordoche Bridge. Back to "10 tons". 

It's about sinking the ferry. I rode over with a huge combine 

one time. They had to center it like a fat guy in a canoe.

  

Various crops grow here. Last time was wheat

  

A bayou or three inhabit this area with adjoining back swamps.

  

 Eventually you will break out of the thickness. Next is a shot 

from the cockpit of the 2kGuzzi Jackal. I rode her today on my 

birthday run. More from that ride shortly.

 

On my GPS screen, below, green is La.10 on the east bank, 

orange is the railroad. The yellow lines are the T&P's historic 

rails running north to Simmesport and southwest to Opelousas, 

and ultimately to Crowley. The other green line is La.105.

  

Then you come to Stonehenge, Louisiana Railroad style.

 I parked and marveled at it. The train cannot go ground 

level here. Flooding would wreck the schedule. So it needs 

Stonehenge to support it over the threatening waters. Notice 

this shot is from February. Others are from June and March. 

I often revisit my favorite spots. In fact, I'm now feeling a 

need to visit here again.

   

There's the wheat I was talking about.

  

And a close up. I may bring a chair and wait for a shot.

  

 Next, the gravel road intersects La. 973 which enjoys just a 

little pavement and then turns into paved La.417 headed north 

to Legonier. Wonder where this was taken from? BTW, La.417 

is a wonderful levee ride if you can deal with the rounded shoulders.  

Up there? These pictures were sent to me by Lawless Armont. 

In his note he claimed I was his long lost father. I don't know 

about the "father" part, but "long lost" is true.

He used that perch to get these. The road shot is looking 

toward East Krotz Springs. We are in a place called Red Cross. 

I think the name originated from the floods of 1927 when the

 Red Cross set up base here to assist the flood victims. It was

 high ground, maybe, or, the levee was intact on this side. 

It sure wasn't on the Melville side. The rail bridge eventually 

failed. I have a picture of it with a missing span.

  

 Dang, Lawless, you got a shot of my bike. I never even saw you 

up there. What a coincidence!!

  

Good shots, maybe you are my son? Who's your mama?

   

 Look at the wood and how it is marked. This bridge is no 

longer available to walkers. I'm wondering if autos ever crossed?

  

Senior EL, when these shots were aired in 2008, identified 

the mechanism below as a car counter. Later he amended that 

guess to "derailer". As a train engineer you are barreling toward 

the opened bridge and can't stop or you are asleep at the wheel. 

The derailer will derail the train, beginning with the engine, you,

 Mr. Engineer, and then you'll probably slide down the embankment 

and die. That beats going into the Atchafalaya River and being 

eaten by a 300 lb. catfish with revenge written all over its whiskered 

face. The above is speculative and not an authentic portrayal of 

probabilities, real or imagined. I would suppose the green thing

 means the derailer is not active being the bridge is closed which 

means it's open for business. Confusion necessitates the derailer. 

That's why you often see trains stopping before attempting a 

110 year old draw bridge.

  

Having not been derailed or gone off the bridge, we enter 

Melville. These two maps show the abandoned rails going 

north and southwest. The yellow line is the old "OG", the 

Opelousas Gulf and Northeast Railroad which was absorbed 

by the Texas and Pacific early on, like 1907. It may have

 retained its name until about 1914, but the name "OG",

 in the minds of the inhabitants, lingered for years. I've 

been told that in Jeanerette, the name "Frisco" was used 

forever after ownership moved to the MP. I'm using 

abbreviations since if you are RR oriented, you all ready 

know what I'm talking about, and if not, you probably don't 

care, so I'll be economic with that understanding. These 

maps were taken from Mark's blimp prior to the "incident". 

From ground level you never notice the red orange and yellow lines.

  

The Yellow line going north was the Texas and Pacific's 

Simmesport route. I can't write on either anymore. 

Doing so would make my head explode because there is just 

so much you can know about something, then it gets ugly. 

Extensive orations and albums upon albums of pictures 

are somewhere else on this rag covering both branches.

  

 As an added treat, I have a picture from today's outing. Al 

has been wanting to become a brooding fashion model since 

he heard about Naomi being given those blood diamonds. 

 He asked that I take this shot to submit to Brooding Rail 

Watcher's Magazine. You have to hand it too him, he might 

have finally found his calling. Lord knows he been a searchin'. 

The bed is calling me, more later with the Birthday Ride, Part 2. 

 Senor  may recognize these tracks. A technical discussion is 

included in the next one. Al, while brooding, was able to figure 

out a tieing question and why EL is graffitied everywhere .

 

Cheneyville (somewhat fixed 2012)

This was the third page of a frivolous write which is still around and includes this page. I've chosen to leave it as a stand alone due to its singular worth and because it gets hit all the time. I'd mentioned heading up to Cheneyville when we were talking with the owner of the Bailey Hotel. He'd said something about Civil War bullets or shrapnel in the front door of the very old Episcopal church there. I was familiar with the church but had never heard that story. We would have to check it out. Sitting on the porch of the Bentley was nice, but it was time to go or get a room. You can travel 2 ways from Bunkie to Cheneyville. One is US 71 and another is by Shirley Plantation Road (La.1177) that rides along Bayou Boeuf. This area is as up front"Central Louisiana" as it gets. From large country churches and small field workers' homes to large plantations with "big houses" resplendent with all the Greek antebellum trappings, to small cottages, this is Cotton Louisiana though the crop is changed when financial considerations prevail. The ghosts of the Old South ride the breezes blowing across the fields, under the oaks and between the giant cedars. It's a place where you can imagine hearing Pearl Bailey (no relation) singing "Summer Time". It's a place where the fictional portrayals of "Long Hot Summer" and "Steel Magnolias" wouldn't be fictional at all, but scenes from everyday life. I once chased bayous and rivers. These are a few personal words about this area from a long ago memoir. Revisiting visions of the past becomes more important as those visions become more distant. In my youth, my family had to travel the length of the state to see our relatives. I learned the roads: US 61 from New Orleans to Baton Rouge, US 190, from Baton Rouge to its intersection with US71, west of Krotz Springs, US 71, from 190 to Alexandria, and La.1, or US 71, sometimes, from Alex (La. shorthand) to Shreveport. Extreme boredom would cause my father to alternate. Between comic books and throwing up, I watched the sides of the roads, always wishing I could get off this scar in my brain and explore down the little roads. I knew adventure and treasure were out there. What I didn't know was how close to that worn route those treasures would be. The trips would only get interesting, to me, when we finally got into the hills of north La. We had always lived on flat land. The hills were different and like that part of Shreveport where my grandmothers both lived. You could skate, at speed, on Wilkinson Street. Now, I am roaming those once hated flat lands that Bayou Boeuf and Cocodrie tie together. US 71, south of Alexandria, once considered an endless stretch of the trip, La.29, south of Bunkie, and La.182, south of Whiteville to Washington where the Cocodrie and Boeuf join to form Bayou Courtableu. This area defines a distinct region. It is a region of transition. Homes define the culture and the styles change gradually along these routes. It begins with very Central Louisiana, traditional midwestern farm houses, changing to the Cajun homes further south, marked by their exterior staircases to the attic. Large Greek Revival plantations are scattered throughout. In reality, there is no defining border between cultures and architecture, only a weighting from one group to another. Louisiana is the ultimate poorly stirred mixing bowl. So here I go again up 71. If you are reading this little tale in expectation of twisting, thrilling travel. Sorry. If you want to see what I consider treasures, yes, a lot of rotting houses, slimy bayous, and graves, you're at the right place. I feel like I have to do it all before I can start on the hills. Those past visions do get much more interesting when revisited. And, those distant treasures seen as a blur from an un-air-conditioned '49 Dodge weren't so distant after all. In many cases they lay just a few feet away from what I consider Louisiana's other "Mother Road", US 71. That was from "a while back". As usual, I don't know how to present this. Let me get this "Mushroom Hunt" out of the way and then I'll pile on with Cheneyville. The Hunt Continues From the hotel I brought the fellas up 1177 which is the west route up the Boeuf. I told one of them, when asked what bayou that was, "If you see a bayou, call it the Boeuf because it twists around all over this alluvial plain and you'll probably be right".

The bayou.

Not a Greek, but maybe antebellum.

 

This is the country church I had in mind. It was letting out 

when we passed by. I can't describe the scene.

One of the freedoms which I hold dearest is my freedom to
change my mind. I think that, to avoid redundancies, I'll
move forward with hometown lady, Mary Marks Soloman's
pamphlet on Cheneville and fill in between her paragraphs with
pictures and my comments.

 

 
I was heartened by torn up ties. I could lead you to believe
these were from the SP, not so. Still, they were a mood setter.
 
 Before the hunt on the south side of the tracks began, I looked up and down the north side. I couldn't see the connection from that side. The high weeds, below on the right, marked the spot.
 

The truth lay beyond the rails.

 
 Looking north.
 
Looking south.
 
Then I went into the farmer's field. The GPS said I was there.
The farmer knew they were there, also.
 
The next stops would be Haas and Eola to the south.
 
 I'll pop in a few pictures of Front Street, US 71. Some are older, some are more recent. Some depict how Cheneyville has deteriorated quickly in the last of the 20th and the beginning of the 21'st Centuries. Her most recent loss has been the parish jail, once a school. There is not much left alive in Cheneyville. Below was found where she describes "Old Town" as being.
This may or not be of what she is speaking.
 
Not all the homes were in bad shape.
 
This is the present Methodist Church. That is my guess based on its design.

 

Here's the old dominoes pavilion on Front Street near the
railroad tracks. Once it was a place where old men played the day away.


Now it's not.
 
This shot was taken from there.
 
A lovely place.
 
Old businesses.
 
This is one of the once busy antique shops.
 
This was once a home near the tracks.
 
This picture was taken on the mushroom ride.
It is not my best. Below it will be better.
 

I had mistaken this tour sign for the Northup Tour.
The Bennett places were on the Northup Tour, named for
a man who had been kidnapped into slavery in these regions.
Much more on that later.

 

 Of course that's the Boeuf. 

This house sat nearby. I suspect it had something to do with the cemetery.The author is black, thus the familiarity with the historical places of interest to that community.

What was the "Alliance"? {Photos needed} .

I was in the Bennett Store a while back. It was the last opportunity

 to visit it while it was there. I wonder if the ghosts made the trip?

 Now the store and house are saved, elsewhere.

This is the way it looked in the state I found it on US 71.

I was afraid to go upstairs. Shame on me.

 Looking out the side. That is a kitchen in green.

Across the highway was the family home.

 

 The Cheneyville Horror?

In response to my long ago write, a reader, Ms. June wrote, " Your site and photos brought back so many good memories of my childhood in Cheneyville, Louisiana. I wanted to give you the story about the house and store on page 2 of your Alex to Washington trip. That's the old Bennett house and store. My friend Veronica grew up in that house. She once told me that the house had at one point been a funeral parlor. She may have just said that to scare me though!" [The store and house are two different places. "The store was vacant and we played in there often. Someone found a box of receipts including one from 1817 (when the store was new) that showed James Bowie shopped there; he invented his knife nearby and once owned a lot in Cheneyville". "We never went up those stairs either! Ezra Bennett came from New York and bought the house and store in the 1830s. He is buried in the graveyard over by Trinity Episcopal Church. I'm so sad to see the house and store are in ruins now. I wish someone would restore them". "Thanks for the photos and the trip back in time. :) " Ms. June, you got your wish. Here's a bit about Bowie's presence in the area. "In his teens James Bowie worked in Avoyelles and Rapides parishes, where he floated lumber to market. He invested in property on the Bayou Boeuf and traded in 1817–18 at what is now Bennett's Store, south of Cheneyville. He was fond of hunting and fishing, and family tradition says that he caught and rode wild horses, rode alligators, and trapped bears. When grown, Bowie was described by his brother John as "a stout, rather raw-boned man, of six feet height, weighed 180 pounds." He had light-colored hair, keen gray eyes "rather deep set in his head," a fair complexion, and high cheek-bones. Bowie had an "open, frank disposition," but when aroused by an insult, his anger was terrible. During the War of 1812, James and Rezin joined the Second Division, Consolidated, a unit that contained the Seventeenth through Nineteenth regiments, drawn from Avoyelles, Rapides, Natchitoches, Catahoula, and Ouachita parishes. In January 1815, according to family records, the brothers were on their way to join Andrew Jackson's forces at New Orleans when the war ended". From Here Returning to Mary Soloman's pamphlet:  

Cheneyville was joined in the anti lottery movement. 

This is a little boring but what seems important to me is 

the list of prominent people in the community.

That does sound a little familiar. These guys were T Party 

People. They saw what crooked government was doing and 

found it "repugnant to ur state pride, an insult to our manhood, 

abhorrent to public morality, contrary to our State Constitution,

 consequently undemocratic and contrary to all Democratic 

principles". I am sure that if you crossed any of these gents, 

a duel on the sandbar would be your next invitation.

They saw themselves as leaders.

Of interest here is the mention of the Town Talk, still 

Alexandria's newspaper. The members: 

 

 This is the closing picture from the ride. After the Anti- Lottery call to arms, it's a bit weak. What you have here is two old guys who can't figure out where to park their bikes. Possibly it was the heat to offer them an excuse I took 20 more pictures as they moved around the field. I'll spare you those. More below now that the ride is safely over. Safe for you and I.

Remember I mentioned the Northup Tour back at Trinity Episcopal. He landed in this area and kept a diary of his time spent as a slave. It is a picture through another lens of how things were. Below are excerpts from Northup's odyssey. Be aware, it is written by a man whose freedom was stolen. I have not read the whole book. I copied it and can send it to you. It is out of copyright. I am assuming the tour is named after him. It now longer exists as I've found nothing about it. I searched the book using "Boeuf" and "Cheneyville " as key words. I came up with these passages. I'll let you read them in peace. "I bade farewell to my good friends at the opening, and departed with my new master Tibeats. We went down to the plantation on Bayou Boeuf, distant twenty-seven miles from the Pine Woods, to complete the unfinished contract. Bayou Boeuf is a sluggish, winding stream—one of those stagnant bodies of water common in that region, setting back from Red River. It stretches from a point not far from Alexandra, in a south-easterly direction, and following its tortuous course, is more than fifty miles in length. Large cotton and sugar plantations line each shore, extending back to the borders of interminable swamps. It is alive with alligators, rendering it unsafe for swine, or unthinking slave children to stroll along its banks. Upon a bend in this bayou, a short distance from Cheneyville, was situated the plantation of Madam Ford—her brother, Peter Tanner, a great landholder, living on the opposite side". "He had been a driver and overseer in his younger years, but at this time was in possession of a plantation on Bayou Huff Power, two and a half miles from Holmesville, (on the map) eighteen from Marksville, and twelve from Cheneyville. It belonged to Joseph B. Roberts, his wife's uncle, and was leased by Epps. His principal business was raising cotton, and inasmuch as some may read this book who have never seen a cotton field, a description of the manner of its culture may not be out of place". I know I've seen an "Epps, Louisiana". He was a cruel drunk from Northup's description. "Mistress Epps was not naturally such an evil woman, after all. She was possessed of the devil, jealousy, it is true, but aside from that, there was much in her character to admire. Her father, Mr. Roberts, resided in Cheneyville, an influential and honorable man, and as much respected throughout the parish as any other citizen. She had been well educated at some institution this side of the Mississippi; was beautiful, accomplished, and usually good-humored. She was kind to all of us but Patsy—frequently, in the absence of her husband, sending out to us some little dainty from her own table. In other situations—in a different society from that which exists on the shores of Bayou Boeuf, she would have been pronounced an elegant and fascinating woman. An ill wind it was that blew her into the arms of Epps". "In the course of a fortnight, four black girls came down from Eldret's plantation—Charlotte, Fanny, Cresia and Nelly. They were all large and stout. Axes were put into their hands, and they were sent with Sam and myself to cut trees. They were excellent choppers, the largest oak or sycamore standing but a brief season before their heavy and well-directed blows. At piling logs, they were equal to any man. There are lumberwomen as well as lumbermen in the forests of the South. In fact, in the region of the Bayou Boeuf they perform their share of all the labor required on the plantation. They plough, drag, drive team, clear wild lands, work on the highway, and so forth. Some planters, owning large cotton and sugar plantations, have none other than the labor of slave women. Such an one is Jim Burns, who lives on the north shore of the bayou, opposite the plantation of John Fogaman". "There are no inns along the highways in that portion of the State where I sojourned. I was wholly destitute of money, neither did I carry any provisions, on my journey from the Big Cane to Bayou Boeuf; nevertheless, with his pass in his hand, a slave need never suffer from hunger or from thirst. It is only necessary to present it to the master or overseer of a plantation, and state his wants, when he will be sent round to the kitchen and provided with food or shelter, as the case may require. The traveler stops at any house and calls for a meal with as much freedom as if it was a public tavern. It is the general custom of the country. Whatever their faults may be, it is certain the inhabitants along Red River, and around the bayous in the interior of Louisiana are not wanting in hospitality". Aren't you guys done yet?