A brief history of North Louisiana

So Spain is in control of the Louisiana territory at this point and sells it back to France.  The French government is in control of Louisiana for only 20 days, before it officially sells Louisiana, to the United States on December 20^th, 1803.  The US really only wanted the Port of New Orleans, so they could continue to use the Mississippi River, and have access to the Gulf of Mexico.  The US paid 11 million for the Louisiana Purchase.  Other then South Louisiana there were few settlers in the Purchase at this time, a lot of this territory was still owned and controlled by tribal people.  The Purchase added 828,000 square miles to the United States.  Most of you know that President Thomas Jefferson, sent Lewis and Clark, to explore this new area of the US. 

On April 30^th, 1812 Louisiana became the 18^th state in the Union, well most of it anyways.  From the early days of French and Spanish exploration in Louisiana, the western border had been disputed.  The Spaniards said that the state of Texas went all the way to the Red River.  The French said their western boarder was a river deep into Texas, several hundred miles on the other side of the Red.  This is part of the reason that Fort St. Jean Baptist was in Natchitoches, in order to protect France’s western border, as well as protect settlers to that part of Louisiana. 

Spain set up a mission and presidio (fort) outside of what is modern day Robeline, Louisiana.  Robeline is about 15 or 20 miles west of Natchitoches.  The mission was officially called, “San Miguel de Linares de los Adaes.” The presidio, was called, “Nuestra SeÑora del Pilar de Los Adaes (Our Lady of the Pillar of the Adaes). The mission was there to convert the Caddo Adai tribe that lived there, and protect Spain’s Eastern border.   It was also the capital of Texas from 1729 until 1770.  Los Adaes was not supposed to buy goods from France, but it took 6 months for them to be restocked by Mexico City.  So out of necessity, they began to trade with Fort St. Jean Baptist, and they began to intermarry as well.  Remember that thing I told you about the shortage of women.  All that mattered is that they be Catholic. 

In 1819 the Adams-Onis Treaty was signed.  That brought Florida into the United States and also established the Sabine River as the western boundary of Louisiana.  In 1823 Fort Jesup was established outside of Many, Louisiana, 30 miles west of Fort St. Jean Baptist and 15 miles west of Los Adaes.  Today all three of these are state parks. I would have the joy of working at 2 of those 3, and relating its place in history to 100’s of tourists, both from this country and around the world.  

For twenty years, between 1803 when Louisiana was purchased, until 1823 when Fort Jesup was established, the land between the Red River and the Sabine River was a No Man’s land, sometimes called the Neutral Strip.  It was a wild lawless and godless area, full of murders, robbers, and anybody who was running from the law.  I think some of them never left.  They were untouchable by either the Spanish or the Americans.

Fort Jesup was established to clean the area up, provide stability and law to the new territory, and assist settlers both coming to Louisiana and on their way into Texas.  Spain could not keep enough people in Texas, so they opened it up to anyone who was Catholic and would swear allegiance to Spain.  Many of those on their way to Texas passed thru here.  One of the Jesup soldiers jobs was to help Americans, going to Texas not be robbed by bandits, still in the Neutral Strip.  Fort Jesup was also established to watch the Mexican border, and protect the United States from what they felt would be an impending conflict.  That did not happen until the 1840’s, when the fort closed and every one left to go fight in the Mexican-American War. 

The Red River at this point was still pretty much impassable.  The great log jam extended 400 miles North West of Natchitoches.  Enter Captain Henry Miller Shreve “who designed and built the first snag boat, which removed stags, a hazard for river travel” (Garvey & Widmer, PP.  84). In 1833 he commands a group of U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and begins to clear the Red River.  The Great Raft was all these old rotting and uprooted trees, and eroded soil that filled the river.  So great and deep was it that at some points, trees grew on top of the floating logs.  The river was not officially completely cleared until 1874. 

Now the Caddo were still in the area at this time.  Their population had been decimated by disease, as most first peoples had no immunity to western diseases.  On July 1^st, 1835 the Caddo sold their lands, which include most of North Louisiana to the United States Government.  For his years of service, Larkin Edwards, translator and friend to the Caddo was given 640 acres of land.  This land he would sell and it would eventually become downtown Shreveport.  The Caddo moved west into Texas, which was then held by Mexico.  In 1859 the Caddo were removed to Oklahoma.  They now make their home in Binger, Oklahoma.  They are still alive there and they number over 5000 strong.  They are a proud and wonderful people struggling to hang on to their way of life and their language. 

So by the 1830’s Louisiana was now owned by the US, the Red River was clear up to Shreveport and the Caddo were gone.  Beginning in the 1840’s great numbers of settlers began to move in to north Louisiana.  Most of them being white, of Scotch-Irish and English decent and Protestant, a massive contrast to Catholic and French speaking South Louisiana.  These new settler were from the Appalachia’s, or from descendants of the Appalachia’s.  Many of them continued to carry with them a distrust of government and the idea of total self reliance.  They had moved from the mountains across into northern Georgia, into Northern Alabama, Mississippi, North Louisiana, and right on into East Texas.

My family came out of Lowndes County in Alabama, just south of Birmingham.  They travel by wagon and it takes the more than a month to get here.  Slaves had been sent two years before, to begin clearing land and building houses.  Records have our family living in Keatchie by 1858.  We have been there ever since.  Yes we owned slaves, and no there is nothing that I, or anyone else can do about that.  It was simply a fact of the times back then.

There remains a huge gap in the way North Louisiana is treated.  The state capital of Louisiana is in Baton Rouge, in South Louisiana.  When you go into South Louisiana the roads are better and the schools are better.  Why?  Because South Louisiana has all the money and all the power.  In South Louisiana the only thing that matters is the French culture.  It is engrained in everything they do.  So much so, that until the last 10 or 15 years, when the governor of Louisiana took their oath of office, it was first done in English and then in French.  When I was a child, it was not believed a governor could be elected who did not speak French or have a French back ground.  Gods help you if you were not Catholic as well.  There have only been a few protestant Governors and very few from North Louisiana. 

North Louisiana is treated like the red headed step child that is locked in the attic.  Another example, recently a woman lost her child in a car wreck on I-20.  The accident happened on one side of the road, one of the cars, crossed across the median.  It traveled over and caused the death of this young woman on the other side of the road.  Had there been cable barriers across the median, like there are in South Louisiana, the young lady might have been saved.  The mother of the young lady lobbied for several years for these cable barriers to be put in place.  I remember the news conference announcing that they would be installed, on more than 20 miles along I-20.  The reason they said that South Louisiana had them and not us, is that they had a higher population then we did, and therefore more traffic. 

There was also a movement some years ago for North Louisiana to secede from South Louisiana.  I do not however advocate that, as this would leave us landlocked and I feel much poorer.  I do know that from living in South Louisiana, many there did not consider me to be a real Louisianan, because I did not take French in High School (it was not even offered), I was not Catholic, and not of French, Cajun, or Creole decent.  Even though we all root for the Saints on Sunday.  Yes even though I am from North Louisiana I am a member of the Who Dat! Nation.  I will never root for the Cowbags.  I remember one of my friends telling me I was from “the hills.”  When I came home I didn’t realize how much hillier the land was then South Louisiana.  I kept a blown up map of North West Louisiana in my room, to show my new friends , where I was from, and that I was in fact just as much a Louisianan as they were.  I am not the only person to go thru this, I know many other people who have similar experiences. 

Louisiana remains a corrupt and polluted state.  Our long time governor Edwin Edwards was put in the federal pen for crimes he committed while in office.  I believe it safe to assume that almost every politician is crooked.  As my mother likes to say, “He’s so crooked, they going to have to screw him in the ground when he dies.”  I remember being in college and hearing that a garbage scowl from New York was not allowed to dump it’s trash in New Jersey.  It was all finally dumped here in Louisiana.  As a child, we were told not to eat out of the rivers and lakes, because they were full of toxic waste.  I know there were many politicians who took kick backs for turning my paradise into a toxic waste dump.  For many years, Louisiana has been the $20 dollar hooker for the US, allowing them to do whatever they want to us, and dumping whatever they pleased here.

I had hope as a young woman that the corruption in my state could be changed.  So I voted out the old and in the new, and had hope, but now I know now it will never change.  Although I will continue to vote, and spend time researching those who I will vote for, and I encourage you to do the same, I have lost what hope I had for Louisiana ever recovering.  We have become Pandora, once beautiful and wild, and now used up.

I think many of the politicians get into office, so they might become rich off of the kick backs and from the lobbying groups.  I think it has been this way for a long time, maybe back to the beginning of our state.  I feel it has always been their plan to strip Louisiana, of her natural resources, and leave her people with nothing, few if any of them try to protect or promote what is beautiful and unique about our land.  With each election I have renewed hope and by the end of their term, I know that nothing has been done to improve the roads, or the schools, there are no new jobs, and fierce competition for those that do exist.  If Louisiana will not invest in herself, who will?  I have watched generation after generation leave this place for somewhere better.  Like rats abandoning a sinking ship.

If people would only fight for Louisiana!  Even if I was to become Governor, I don’t believe that I could make a real difference.  I don’t have the family name, connections, money, or political clout to be able to change the system.  The people of this state are often just trying to keep food on the table for their families, living from paycheck to paycheck and trying not to end up homeless.  Those of us who are educated and smart, and are somehow still here, feel stuck at what few morsels we are thrown.  I believe the situation is hopeless, we are all doomed, and it will never get any better. 

Ilsa

This article could not have been possible without the help of :  Louisiana: the first 300 years, by Joan B. Garvey and Mary Lou Widmer, Garmer Press, New Orleans, Louisiana, 2001.

The Ebarb years

The Buddhist have a saying, “first the love, and then the laundry.”  It means once all the excitement is over then you go back to the regular rhythm of life and it’s daily chores.  And that’s just what we did.  Jay did not move in with me until after our first wedding.  He was still working for Albertson’s in Shreveport at the time.  Some days he would stay with Momma Muriel, some with his mom, and some with me.  He was steadily looking for work closer to home.  I was working for Fort Jesup and volunteering with the Sabine Parish Humane Society.

I am hesitant to tell you the rest, because I still want to please you.  However, as I am committed to writing the truth of my life, I must be ready to admit my mistakes.  I am culpable for my actions. Let me first say that I was good park ranger, tour guide, historic interpreter, whatever you want to call me.  I knew my stuff. I did as much research about the time period and our little fort that I could.  I understood how it functioned in the community, it’s role in the state and national scene.  I loved to listen to local people talk about the fort and what it had meant to them.  The best compliment I ever got was that I gave a better tour then the guides at Gettysburg.  I talked to my guests and found out what they did for a living and what their hobbies were.  I used that to gear the tours to what they were interested in. I heard many stories, entertained and broadened many minds in my days there.  I had monthly programs and built up a volunteer base.  When I left we had increased our attendance by quite a bit.  I was very pleased at the work I had done there. 

However in Louisiana when you work for the state you have to play a bit of politics.  I am not very good at it.  I’m just not a good liar.  Someone just starting out with the state usually has very few connections.  I am also not very good at working in a group.  I just never have been.  I tend to want to take charge, if I see there is not effective leadership.  I was given little training for my job and basically at times thrown to the wolves.  I was told go make a program, and get us more attendance without any idea of how to do that.  Thank the gods for the fort keeping records of past programs or I would never have even been able to fill out the paper work.  I did the best I could.

Working at the fort, like most things in Louisiana was at times feast or famine.  One day I would have 40 school kids come in and then I would not see another living soul on the property for two days.  Fort Jesup had 3 managers in the year and a half that I was there.  The first one was kind of a dud.  The third one was a pawn, but the second one, she ….she was a nightmare.  Her name was Kathleen.

I am not blameless in this, mistakes were made and I was in the wrong on many occasions.  There were many strong women who were fighting for control of the fort’s future.  My job could be very, very boring.  I spent many hours on the computer, sometimes researching about the fort and others like it from that time period, and sometimes goofing off.  When we were asked to move all of our ranger things to the third floor, I built a palate, and often napped between guests.  I got caught and reprimanded for this.  Not the best move, but something I should mention in my effort of full disclosure.  

The things they asked me to do often befuddled me.  I watched my bosses take credit for things that I did.  Things I planned and initiated.  I was given paperwork for another park and told to write the programs for their interpreter.  I refused.  If I had to do my own work, he had to too.  They would tell me to clean exhibits that were already clean.  Clean bathrooms that were spotless.  Mop floors that had no dirt on them.  We had a cleaning lady and a maintenance staff of two, for our little less than 5 acre park.  I would often bring my sewing, embroidery, or crochet with me, or use the spinning wheel to pass the hours.  I even learned to play a period instrument, though badly. 

Kathleen was awful.  She was verbally, mentally and emotionally abusive to all of us.  Everything was by the book to her.  Her way often went against what I was being told by hire ups.  She would chastise me for the littlest of things, like picking common wildflowers at the park or once taking a ride around the park on a motorcycle with some guests.  Things I saw as harmless.  Then there was my dress.  Our district manager, Tommy, told me he wanted me in historical dress at all times.  She told me she wanted me in our park uniforms.  I did what Tommy told me to do.  This caused a great bone of contention between us.

In September of 2004 I had my annual review.  It was basically a yelling session.  I was told what a horrible ranger I was and that the only reason I was going to be allowed to stay was because they had yet to find someone qualified to do my job.  I was basically a place hold, a human book mark, until they could find someone else.  Again Kathleen told me there was something wrong with me and how stupid I was.  I began to seek counseling again to find out what was wrong with me.  I was eventually diagnosed with ADD and an above average IQ. 

I began to drink heavily to cope with what was going on at work.  I didn’t know what else to do.  I became good friends with the gentlemen who was head over all park rangers.  He had told me to come to him with anything.   I also called and talked to the park rangers where she had previously worked.  I wanted to know if it was just me she hated or had she done this before.  I asked if they had had any problems with her.  They told me they had and had kept a log of all she had done to them.  When she had come to my fort they had destroyed the log.  I began to compile my own, with dates as best as I knew them. I advised other to do the same.  I sent an email to the head of the park rangers telling him my problems. He told me to document everything and to speak to Tommy.  I was quite terrified as I did not like Tommy, but I typed everything up and made plans to meet with him any ways. I did not know that my emails were being monitored until Kathleen confronted me.

“Are you planning to turn me in?”

I did not speak until she became adamant and belligerent.  “Yes,” I finally said.  “How did you know?”

“I get a copy of all your emails.  How many incidents are you planning to turn me in on? One?” 

I said, “No, at the moment 12.”

“If I go, you go!”

I turned in my report in to Tommy anyways.  In a few weeks, Kathleen was given a bright shinny award for her service and then she officially “retired.”  I am quite sure it was retire or be fired. 

The question, for the higher ups, now became what to do with me, the whistle blower, and trader to the good old boy system.  I have always had problems in knowing when to keep my mouth shut, and this was one of the times.  I began to tell other rangers what I had done, how she had treated me and that I was the driving force behind getting rid of her.  No good deed goes unpunished.

I was sent to Los Adaes State Historic Site, a 18^th century Spanish fort, a few miles away.  It was also run by the same manager that ran Fort Jesup.  Before I could apply for Kathleen’s job, someone else was appointed.  Los Adaes had no visitors, no internet, and few books.  I think it was their holding place for me, until they could figure out what to do with me. 

The new manager began to take inventory of everything on the site.  I was questioned about items that came up missing.  Some of these things had been missing for years, long before I ever got there.  One of these items was a reproduction pocket watch, total value about $30.  It had been in an exhibit and I began to carry it with me as part of my persona.  I did not wear a watch.  Didn’t think it would look too good with my historical dress.  I should have just bought a cheap plastic watch and put it in my pocket.  No one would have ever known, but I didn’t.  There were days that I would forget I was carrying it and come home with it.  In time I could not find the watch, now whether I lost it, or it was stolen from me I will never know.  When they finally confronted me about the watch I told them I did not know where it was.  I offered to pay for the watch.  I even offered to pay twice it’s value. 

There was also a sewing machine that came up missing that I was accused of stealing.  I had mentioned to them that mine was broken and in the shop.  I told them, “Why would I want your piece of plastic crap when I run a vintage cast iron 1969 Singer sewing machine.”  Because I could not prove to them that I had not stole the machine, and could not find the pocket watch, they fired me in January of 2005.  They told me, “You don’t meet our expectations.”  Tommy said, “I did not want to come down here and do this.  This came from high up.”  They had found their trumped up reason to get rid of me.  I was told I could never work for state parks again and that I was not allowed to ever set foot back on Fort Jesup property.  I even had to fight with them to get unemployment.  The judge concluded that although my actions may have been moral reprehensible they were not criminal and they could not deny me my benefits.

I have been asked over the years why I did not fight the state. I had no definitive proof that turning Kathleen in had caused my firing.  There were things like my sleeping pallet, the pocket watch and performance review that they would bring up.  I had no money to fight an organization that would close ranks to cover its ass and protect its own.  No matter what had been done. 

As for Jay he had been hired as a Park Ranger himself at the newly opened South Toledo Bend State Park, a job which he loved.  He was given six months in which to pass the physical, he failed.  So by March of 2005 both of us were unemployed and looking for work.

Jay and I continued to look for work.  Jay even went back to work at Albertsons for a few weeks.  He finally got a job with Family Dollar in Shreveport.  Jay was back to driving, to and from our house in Ebarb.  As gas was so expensive, he would spend a few nights a week with his mom or Momma Muriel, and then a few nights with me.

I spent the next nine months looking for work.  I even went back to selling Avon.  I was depressed.  I was demoralized.  To have been accused of theft, was soul crushing. I felt humiliated.   I felt I had borrowed the watch and lost it, never that I stole it.  We felt stuck.  I was terrified we would lose our home.  We had no idea what to do.  Then Katrina and Rita struck. 

Ilsa

Making Plans

Jay and I continued seeing each other, falling deeper and deeper in love.  He would steal away to my house whenever he could.  He would come for what we called, “sleepovers.”  I was not allowed to sleepover at his house.  While my mother in law loves me, she was not too keen on her unwed son having sex under her roof.  I had told my parents long ago at least if I have sex in the house, you know where I am.   I’m not out on a pipeline somewhere, or back in the woods where if something happens to me you can’t get to me.  My parents adored Jay, they still do.  When Mom would come to say goodnight to me, she would tuck Jay in bed first and then me.  I still think they like him better than me.  At some point my father told me, “If you ever decide to get a divorce from Jay, just walk right across the hall and take out a restraining order against me ‘cause I’m going to kill you.”

Now I had lost my job in the Summer of 2002 and I continued to look for work, any work for many months.  When you have a B.A. most people don’t want to hire you.  They think you will become bored with the job and leave as soon as they have invested all that time and money in training you, or your find something in your field.  They also don’t want to hire someone who has a lot of education and not as much work history.  Again a lot of men doing the hiring are intimidated by an intelligent woman. 

My Anthropology degree, while pretty on the wall, was not worth very much here.  North West Louisiana does not invest in science or preserving their history.  There were a few private museums here that were run by volunteers and only one was run by the state.  There are also no state historic sites here.  There was nothing here where one with my degree might make a living.  It’s kind of like having a marine biology degree while you are living in the middle of the desert.  My dreams of a higher degree had been dashed by my GRE results.  I was too stupid for graduate school, plus now I was in love and I did not want to leave him behind.  I took the civil service test and began to look for work with the state. 

About the time I meet Jay I had finally found a little job as a barista.  That job lasted a few weeks, before the owner told me they were having money trouble and would have to let me go.  They closed a few months later.  I had friend named Paige (who’s so twisted she deserves her own article and that I plan to write a little later) who’s father owned a convenience store.  I asked her to get me an interview with him.  She did and I was hired a few days later.  Even he was intimidated by the fact I came to the interview in business attire, with a resume in a nice folder for him, and had a degree.  He didn’t want to hire me at first because I had a degree.   He, like so many others, was afraid I would get bored and leave.  People like him sometimes forget that we all have to eat.  Paige had to explain I was just very professional.  I stayed almost 6 months, a lot longer than many of the people there. 

I got the word in September of 2003 that I would be a Park Ranger at Fort Jesup State Historic Site outside of Many, Louisiana. It was built in the 1820’s and had been used as a staging ground for troops in the Mexican American war. I was terrible excited that I would finally be able to put my degree to good use, and to make a living for myself.  It was an hour south of where I was living and an hour and half south of Jay.  For the first few weeks I commuted back and forth from Keatchie to Many.  But we knew this would never do.  I began to look for a place to live. 

I refused to leave Precious the first behind.  Would you leave your human children behind if they suddenly became inconvenient for you?  No she was my child, just because she had fur did not mean I got to cast her aside because a place to live would not allow pets.   

Precious the first had come to me in those years of writing the “Prodigal Daughter,” from a friend.  She was a beautiful black and tan Dachshund.  She had been rescued from the Bossier pound.  Her owner had been an elderly lady, who had died of a heart attack, a few weeks after Precious the first had delivered puppies.  The family had sold the puppies and took Precious the first to the pound.  The day my friend got her Precious the first was so engorged with milk that she had to ride home on a towel.  For years Precious the first would wake up screaming in her sleep.  I know she was dreaming of her pups.  Over the years she had become my trusted companion. No I was adamant she would come with me.  I would not leave her behind. After a few weeks I lamented to a co-worker the problem I was having trying to find a place for both of us.  He told me that he had a cousin who had a trailer that would allow pets.  I was overjoyed.

In October Precious the first and I moved into a little trailer in the tiny community of Belmont.  Jay came to visit when he could, but for the most part we were on our own.  It was the first time, other than living in the dorms in college I had ever lived on my own.  It could be exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, especially at night. 

I did not want Precious the first to be lonely while I was gone to work, so I decided I should get her a playmate.  I put a call into the Shreveport Pound and told them if they came across a Dachshund to give me a call.  They called three days later.  They told me they had picked up three doxies knocking over garbage cans to stay alive.  I told them I would take all three.  I happened to be on a date with Jay when we got the call.  By the time I ran to the bank and got out the cash, they had already adopted out two.  On the way there we had already decided on the name, Pumpkin.  No matter the color or the sex of the dog.  It was October you know.  I was calling everybody Pumpkin about that time. 

When we get to the pound we are led back to the kennels.  There sat the most beautiful, scared, little red Dachshund on a green bed.  They opened the door and I crawled in and laid on my back in submissive position.    She began to give me kisses.  I picked her up, proclaimed her Pumpkin, and gave her to Jay.  And so we add Abigail Pumpkin Plaisance to our family.  Pumpkin and Precious the first fought a lot in the early days, but at least they were company for each other. 

Jay and I had been together for about 10 months at that time.  We were engaged but had not set a date as of yet.  Our families were getting pretty tired of the fact we were sleeping together, but not married yet.  We decided to set a date.  We would marry the week after my birthday in March when the flowers would be in bloom, my favorite time of year.  I figure that in the coming years he might remember one of the two dates, since they are so close together.  He has never forgotten either. 

Now at this time in my life I am Christian but I am also still very interested in Native American Spirituality and Native American culture.  Jay is and has always been interested in their different cultures.  At this time I have even danced in a Pow-Wow, and have my own regalia.  Although it might be cliché and not politically correct Jay and I feel we have spent many lifetimes among the tribes. 

I am talking on the phone one night with Mary, a friend of mine.  I mention to her how I wish we could be married by a Medicine Man.  She asks me, “Isn’t Jerry Fairbanks a Medicine Man?  Can’t he marry you?”  I said I will find out.  Indeed my friend, who I have talked about before, is an Ojibwa Medicine Man and can legally marry Jay and I.  We are delighted!  We begin to make plans for our Ojibwa wedding.

When our family hears of this, they are not pleased.  They do not consider such a thing to be “legal,” their way of saying they don’t consider it to be correct.  I tell them if they want us married in the church then they will have to pay for it.  They say they will.  So we begin to plan for a church wedding as well.

Ilsa