New Orleans is 'Some Place'

It was a hot and humid August day, like many summer days familiar to New Orleans. Ace Allen walked down Royal Street wide-eyed, soaking up every sight, sound, and smell. He had never been to New Orleans before. It felt as if he had stepped into a strange, distinct world. Never had he seen a city like it before.

Ace stopped in front of a house on Royal Street and took in the details. Built in the 19th century, like most houses he came across in New Orleans, this one stood out from the others. Surrounded by an iron fence, the bars had a design unique from the other houses he had seen. These iron bars resembled cornstalks. Never had he seen a fence like it before.

Later, he discovered a postcard featuring the house and its iron cornstalk fence. He bought it right away.

Postcard purchased by Ace Allen, and sent on August 4, 1941. I discovered the postcard in an antique store in Jefferson, TX. The house with the cornstalk fence is still there, and is now The Cornstalk Hotel.

The year was 1941.

The United States remained at peace on this particular day, but the rest of the world found itself embroiled in World War II. Four days before Ace Allen sent his postcard, Adolf Hitler was doling out directives. One such directive given to Hermann Goring concerned the Nazi’s Jewish question. Goring wrote to S. S. General Heydrich, “…submit to me as soon as possible a general plan of the administrative material and financial measures necessary for carrying out the desired Final Solution of the Jewish question.” In the summer of 1941, United States citizens remained ignorant of the Holocaust and hoped to remain out of the war. Four months later — on December 7, 1941 the Japanese launched a surprise attack on Peal Harbor.

This is the world Ace was living in as he paused for a moment to write a note on the back of a postcard.

“Hello Stubby, Well — this is some place. Lots of people, river, tall buildings, (not legible) stores, and pretty girls. Ahem — Be a good little girl. Ace Allen” — Then Ace sent the postcard to Letitia Skinnell in Marshall, TX.

Built in 1816, the house on Royal Street with the cornstalk style fence was the home of the first Attorney General of Louisiana. Its unique fence wasn’t erected until the 1850’s. Dr. Joseph Secondo Biamenti owned the house by then. His wife had become homesick for her home state Iowa. In an effort to cure her homesickness, Biamenti had the fence erected with decorative iron cornstalks around the house.

BONUS: Blank postcard depicting Royal Street in New Orleans. The opening scenes of the Elvis Presley movie King Creole took place on this stretch of the street. This postcard was also purchased in Jefferson, TX and was with the featured postcard. I’m assuming Ace Allen purchased this one too, but there is no way to verify that.

Today, the house is The Cornstalk Hotel. The hotel claims Elvis Presley stayed there during the filming of King Creole — the subject of our last post involving New Orleans. A search of newspaper articles and records from that time, however claim he and his entourage stayed at The Roosevelt.*

But, in 1941, Ace Allen strolled by. He noted the unique cornstalk fence. Perhaps he was from Texas, and the ironwork reminded him of home too. Later he found some souvenirs for sale. He spotted a postcard with the same house and cornstalk fence and purchased it. He knew “Stubby” from Marshall, TX would appreciate the fence too.

78 years later — this is the postcard we’re featuring today.

*I reached out to The Cornstalk Hotel for more information on the Elvis Presley claim. They have not returned any correspondence.

The King and The President in New Orleans

The year is 1958. The place is New Orleans. The French Quarter to be more precise. It’s an early March morning and the always bustling, colorful streets are empty. The sun is shining and bright from the east. Puddles of water remain due to a storm that rumbled over the night before. The humidity in the morning air suffocates. Royal Street, Chartes Street, and Bourbon Street are peaceful and undisturbed.

If you’ve ever visited the French Quarter, you know this is out of the ordinary.

The steamboat ‘President’. Built in 1924, and originally named the ‘Cincinnati’, her home port in 1950 was New Orleans. | Postcard purchased in Jefferson, TX at an antique store.

“CRAWFISH!”

“BERRIES!”

“GUMBO!”

“CRAWFISH!”

“BERRIES!”

“GUMBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

A chorus of vendors walking and singing in the streets disturb the silence. They carry berries, gumbo, and crawfish all fresh and ready for sale. Each promotes what they’re peddling with a smile, some rhythm, and a tune. A young woman selling crawfish guides a horse drawn wagon down Royal Street. Her melodious voice echos into the silent New Orleans morning, “CRAWWWWWFISH! CRAWWWWWFISH!”

A young man in his apartment has his window open. He’s putting on a shirt, preparing for another day in The Crescent City. He hears her voice as she passes by on the wagon. He comes to the window to get a better look. Before long, he’s out on the deck singing with her in unison.

“CRAWWWWWFISH!”

“CRAWWWWWFISH!”

It’s a swell morning in New Orleans.

The year is 1950. The place is New Orleans. The French Quarter to be more precise. It’s a late April evening and the streets are bustling with activity. The sun has set and the night darkens the cobblestone streets. A storm is coming soon. The humidity in the evening air suffocates. Royal Street, Chartes Street, and Bourbon Street are clamoring for attention.

Bobby Dan Banks and his wife arrive at the The Cornstalk Hotel on Royal Street. Weary from the long miles on the road, they planned to relax tonight. Five years from now Jack Kerouac would write, “Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.” Bobby Dan and his wife had the highway miles behind them and a semi-comfortable hotel bed ahead of them. It’s all they knew at the moment.

Bobby Dan took a book out of his suitcase and set it on the bed stand to read. Mrs. Banks sat down at the desk in the hotel room and pulled a postcard out of her purse. They’d bought it at one of the souvenir shops. When she saw the postcard, she thought it perfect for their friends James and Mary Lou Heim back in Texas. The colorful depiction of the steamboat S. S. President on the mighty Mississippi River made a great focal point. The Banks had plans to take the river cruise early the next morning.

“We got here this P.M. and are having a swell time. We stopped at Natchitoches last nite, saw that town, Baton Rouge, and millions of miles of road today.”

Millions of miles of road. Mrs. Banks can weave a story or two on a postcard.

“We are going to ride the ‘President’ (see other side) tomorrow. Tell everyone ‘hello’ for us and we’ll see you soon. — Mr. & Mrs. Bobby Dan Banks — P.S. Thanks for being so swell.”

Indeed everything was swell that evening for the Banks’s in New Orleans. The sounds of cars, horses, and jazz collided with the smell of cajun food, smoke, and alcohol. It was like most nights in the French Quarter.

The next morning the Banks’s prepared for their riverboat cruise on the Mississippi River. On their way to the dock, Mrs. Banks paused a moment at a post office drop box and sent her postcard to the Heim’s.

A cloud of dense fog slept on the Mississippi River. A bit of a chill was present that April morning. Once purchasing their tickets, the Bank’s got in the line forming on the dock. They were ready for their morning river cruise. Once the passengers had boarded and the crew was ready, the President drifted from from the dock.

A few people were standing on the dock that morning, as the steamboat drifted further away. As it drifted, the fog began to swallow the S. S. President until the boat disappeared.

Back of featured postcard.

A cloud of dense fog slept on the Mississippi River that quiet morning in 1958. A bit of a chill was present on that March morning. Once its passengers were aboard, the steamboat S. S. President set out onto the river like it did most days. It slowly and quietly disappeared into the fog.

A small crowd of people stood on the deck watching — and filming — as the steamboat drifted further away. It would only be a moment more. One moment more. It had to be completely hidden from view before they could stop. One moment more and it would be gone.

“AND CUT!”

Movie director Michael Curtiz had the scene he needed for the opening credits. It was time to move onto the next scenes, they only had a little over a week to get everything shot. The star of the movie, Elvis Presley wasn’t around. He was sleeping in that morning in his room at The Cornstalk Hotel on Royal Street.

If the sequence of events at the beginning of the story seemed familiar, there may be a reason why.

Those empty streets and vendors breaking the silence in a chorus of song? Staged and shot for the movie King Creole.

The young woman on the horse drawn wagon? Jazz singer Kitty White.

The young man coming out onto his deck to join in? The king of rock and roll, Elvis Presley.

WATCH: King Creole opening credits. Featuring Elvis Presley singing ‘Crawfish,’ and the President drifting into the foggy morning. The steamboat was renamed ‘New Orleans’ by Curitz for the movie.