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Lafayette Square

Oddly enough, even though I’ve lived in the South for a good chunk of my life, I never got around to visiting New Orleans until this year.

I thought regularly about going. In fact, a few years ago, I was fixing to start to think about preparing to make preliminary plans — and then came Hurricane Katrina. After that, I had to wait a bit longer.

Finally, in October, I did the deed, albeit only in a limited way. It was just a four-day scouting trip, but it was long enough to get a sense of the place. I’ll plan a more comprehensive visit sometime next year.

My reservations were at the Lafayette Hotel, a venerable old place on St. Charles Avenue in the central business district. It’s on the streetcar line, making it convenient to the best parts of the city.

A bit of daylight remained after I checked in, so I went across the street to Lafayette Square to stretch and take a few pictures.

Serene, handsome Lafayette Square.

The square is named after the Marquis de Lafayette, the French dude who fought with the Americans during the Revolutionary War. You might expect to find a statue of him in his own square, but you won’t. Instead, there are statues of Henry Clay, Benjamin Franklin, and John McDonogh.

Who was John McDonogh, you ask? He was a real estate speculator, shipping magnate, and philanthropist, born in Baltimore in 1779. He was noted for being miserly and eccentric.

In 1818, powerful and ambitious, he moved to New Orleans, where he ran for the U.S. Senate and lost. Over time, he also courted several eligible society ladies, but alas, was rebuffed by them, too. He never ran for public office again, and he remained a lifelong bachelor devoted to managing his vast holdings.

Although McDonogh was a major slave owner and had the reputation of a grouch and a cheapskate, he surprised everyone by leaving his fortune to the cities of Baltimore and New Orleans to fund schools for poor children, black and white.

His family back in Baltimore, of course, went bananas and contested the will. They lost before the Supreme Court in 1858.

The City of Baltimore used McDonogh’s money to endow a school/farm for “poor boys of good character,” as McDonogh had envisioned in his hand-written will.

In New Orleans, the money was used to build 30 new schools around the city. All 30 were named after McDonogh, followed by a number.

In return for his generosity, McDonogh asked only “that it may be permitted annually to the children of the free schools to plant and water a few flowers around my grave.”

The McDonogh monument in Lafayette Square was unveiled in 1898. For many years thereafter, school children went to the square each year on McDonogh Day to place flowers around the monument.

But that was an earlier time. Today, only one school, John McDonogh High School #26, still honors the tradition.

The statue in Lafayette Square features a bronze bust of McDonogh atop a tall pedestal. Below him are two adoring bronze children, hand in hand, placing flowers as requested.

An inscription reads, “To John McDonogh from the public school children of New Orleans, 1892-1898”.

So here was a childless man, giving away his fortune to benefit thousands of needy children, asking to be remembered by them annually with flowers. Surely the real story of the real John McDonogh was a powerful and compelling one.

But we’ll never know. No biography of the man was written until many years after his death. By then, few who knew him still lived.

The McDonogh statue.

They say Lafayette Square took a terrible beating from Hurricane Katrina. The old oak trees were badly damaged, and falling glass from the surrounding skyscrapers made the  place dangerous for weeks.

When I was there, however, the square looked great. The weather was perfect. Families, young couples, and business types walked about and chatted. About a dozen homeless people were scattered around, occupying a few out-of-the-way benches.

It was late and the sun was low. Taking photos was tricky, and I was concentrating so hard that at first, I didn’t notice the young black man who came up beside me.

When I finally did, he said, pointedly, “You doin’ a documentary?”

“What?” I sputtered.

“A documentary — a documentary on homeless people!”

“No, no,” I said, “Nothing like that. I’m just a tourist looking at the statues.” The fellow didn’t look homeless himself, but you never know.

“Well, you ought to do a documentary on homeless people!”

“To tell you the truth,” I said, “I haven’t taken a single photo of a homeless person. It seems kinda tacky, you know?”

“They’re just people, man. And nobody cares. Tomorrow, they gotta leave because of the concert.”

Concert? What concert?

He told me that the next evening, as part of the city’s Harvest the Music festival, Lafayette Square would host a concert by Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue, a popular local blues/jazz/funk band.

For the locals, it meant great music. For the homeless people, it meant that the cops would roust them out of the square for the evening.

By 5:00 PM the next day, Lafayette Square was overflowing with people. It was a mixed crowd, all ages, mostly prosperous. Many brought lawn chairs or blankets. Food booths and tent canopies were everywhere.

The bandstand had been set up at the edge of the square, backed up to St. Charles Avenue, aimed at the right ear of the John McDonogh statue. The old fellow had the best vantage point in the square.

Because of the crowds and the bright stage lights, photos were almost impossible. I tried to take videos, but the volume of the music overwhelmed the speakers in my camera.

So I gave up and just listened to the music. The band was terrific.

Scene at the concert. Proceeds went to a local food bank.

Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue.