Patch, Princess and a Clematis

Here is a particularly evocative picture for me because I lost Velvet (on right) a couple of years ago. Patch (the pic's a little blurry) is still with me, and brings me joy every day.

Eric'sWeb

The Ghost of Marie Laveau

Not so long ago, I reconnected by email with my old Vivian friend Jay Denny. Finding out at a North Caddo High reunion that I had started writing novels he’d bought a copy of Big Easy and began reading. Like me, Jay Denny lived in New Orleans for a time. He has moved back after a stint in LA. Here is a ghost story he swears is true. He is allowing me to tell it but made me promise not to reveal the actual hotel and bar so as not to offend the ghost of Madam Marie Laveau.

* * *

When I was nineteen, I lived across the street from Madam Marie Laveau’s house on St. Anne’s. In the seventies, I worked in a hotel on Rampart. It was rumored that part of Madam Marie’s bed was on the wall above the bar. It was a side piece that had a sliding door. This is so she could close herself off totally while sleeping and no one could cast a spell on her.

In the nineties, after a long sojourn in California I was back in New Orleans for a visit and decided to stay at the hotel. I went in the bar to see if the bedside was still there. It was, the bar remodeled, and the bedside moved it to a new spot.

I didnt tell a soul thinking some disrespectful person might mark it up if they knew the story. After checking into my room, I went about the business of seeing old friends from my LSU days and having dinner with them. We ate at recently opened Baco on Rue Chartres.

After returning to my hotel room I retired for the evening and turned out all the lights but one in a little dressing area kept coming back on. Thinking it had a short, I unplugged it. It came on again!  Then I realized my room was directly over the bar and the piece of Madam Marie’s bed. Now that I think of it, maybe she was trying to thank me for not giving away her secret.

Eric'sWeb

A Halloween to Remember - a story

Born the day before Halloween, I seem forever connected to that particular holiday. My deceased wife and I hosted Halloween parties for years. One unplanned Halloween party proved the strangest.

A Halloween to Remember

Halloween was on a Friday, so we planned the big bash for Saturday.  Not all our guests got the message, as three revelers showed up for the Friday night party. Born on the day before Halloween, I seem forever destined to be connected to that holiday.

Anne and I married early in 1980 and decided to host a Halloween party that year.

Jakob, an Israeli expatriate doing stonework around our house for us, showed up as a cowboy.  He was soon followed by Nancy, a geologist dressed, strangely enough, as an Indian princess.  John, another geologist, showed up a little later, his only costume a mask. 

Nonplussed, Anne and I broke out the alcohol.  There was a championship boxing match on television that night - Oklahoma City's own Sean O'Grady versus James Watt, a Scottish boxer.  The fight occurred in Glasgow, Scotland, and saying there was a bit of home cooking is a mild statement.  After a few rounds Watt head-butted Sean, resulting in a horrible cut over his eye.  Watt should have been disqualified, and O'Grady declared the winner.  Instead, the local judges ruled the amount caused by a punch rather than a head-butt. 

Those days, there was no rule about excessive bleeding.  To say that little blood was strewn around the ring would be a true understatement.  The crew looked more like the inside of a working slaughterhouse; all the viewers, including myself, were in shock and totally aghast.  The fight was soon called, and Watt was proclaimed the world champion. 

We went on to drink, carouse, and celebrate into the wee hours; Anne and I were in slight shape for the Halloween party that continued as planned the next day. 

I met Sean O'Grady at a Christmas Party in Oklahoma City a few years later.  The room was crowded, and I stood against a wall, sipping my whiskey.  When O'Grady spotted me, he pushed through the crowd, looked me straight in the eye, and said, "You look just like "Little Red" Lopez." 

He wasn't smiling, and I could tell from his expression and the clench of his fists that he was getting ready to hit me.  Having seen his devastating punching power on more than one occasion, I immediately raised my right palm. 

"Believe me, I'm not "Little Red" Lopez.  I'm one of your biggest fans." 

Sean smiled and we proceeded to have a friendly conversation.  It seems Lopez had beaten the teenaged O'Grady, and he had never forgotten or forgiven.  I have posted a picture of "Little Red" on my photo page to show that I look nothing like the former boxer. 

That was the first Halloween party I hosted, eventful like everyone else.  I have another Sean O'Grady story, but I'll save it for another day.

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Born near Black Bayou in the little Louisiana town of Vivian, Eric Wilder grew up listening to his grandmother’s tales of politics, corruption, and ghosts that haunt the night. He now lives in Oklahoma, where he continues to pen mysteries and short stories with a southern accent. He authored the French Quarter Mystery Series set in New Orleans, the Paranormal Cowboy Series, and the Oyster Bay Mystery Series. Please check it out on his Amazon author page. You might also like checking out his Facebook page.

Old Creole Winter Okra Soup - a weekend recipe

In Black Magic Woman,  my French Quarter Mystery No. 4, Wyatt Thomas and Mama Mulate's latest squeeze, Jason Fasempaur, travel back to old New Orleans, circa 1845, to implore voodoo high priestess Madam Marie Laveau to help them lift a curse that is plaguing Wyatt. While there, they visit a haunted plantation on River Road and a townhouse in New Orleans. Wyatt also fights a duel with a French sword master. When Jason sees the rustic kitchen of the New Orleans townhouse, he enjoys a bowl of cook Sarah's delectable soup that he declares ‘a taste of heaven.’ Here is Sarah’s recipe. Try it, and I think you’ll agree with Jason.

Old Creole Winter Okra Soup

Ingredients

      ·         3 pints Okra

·         6 tomatoes, fresh

·         2 onions

·         2 T butter

·         2 dozen oysters

·         3 T rice

·         1 red pepper pod, deseeded

Directions

Wash and stem the okra, and then slice it very fine. Chop the tomatoes finely and preserve the juice. In a large pot, chop the onions finely, and then fry them in the butter. Wash the rice well. Slow stew the onions, tomato juice, and pepper in about three quarts of water and one pint of oyster juice for three hours, stirring frequently. Don’t add the okra and rice until ten minutes before serving, then let it boil. Drop in the oysters, boil up once, and serve.

Note: Even though south Louisiana usually has a long growing season, the Creoles of New Orleans didn’t have fresh okra and tomatoes during the winter. They resolved this problem by canning fruits and vegetables during the plentiful months. To follow the original recipe, use one can (jar) of okra and one can or jar of tomatoes instead of fresh okra and tomatoes. Either way, it's good.

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Born near Black Bayou in the little Louisiana town of Vivian, Eric Wilder grew up listening to his grandmother’s tales of politics, corruption, and ghosts that haunt the night. He now lives in Oklahoma, where he continues to pen mysteries and short stories with a southern accent. He authored the French Quarter Mystery Series set in New Orleans, the Paranormal Cowboy Series, and the Oyster Bay Mystery Series. Please check it out on his Amazon author page. You might also like checking out his Facebook page.