Tourism in New Orleans, 1889

(This Catharine Cole column appeared in the New Orleans Picayune February 17, 1889.)

When a stranger comes to New Orleans for the pleasure and profit of a winter’s outing in the Southland, he arrives with vague and delightful ideas of what he is to see, what he is to do and where he is to go. The best and most commendable certificate of good character he may present is that he is ready for anything and is not disposed to be over-critical.

Enticing descriptive bits from "Evangeline" float hazily in his brain; he is prepared to hear the zooming and the booming of the Gulf breaking over reefs; he perhaps calculates to shoot an alligator, or to fish for a few Spanish mackerel; to do an orange orchard, and go behind the scenes at the French Opera. He is good-tempered and not particular. What he wants to see is southern life.

The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table once told a clever story of a man at the boarding house who was particularly well up on all subjects that begin with A. He knew all about Ararat and the Alps when the subject turned on mountains, but was singularly silent when the Sierras or the Pyrenees were mentioned. It finally occurred to the Autocrat that the first volume of the encyclopedia was just out!

And there are persons who have a guide-book flavor about them, who come to New Orleans and expect to do the town as they did London with a Dickens’ dictionary under their arm.

"Art, art," say they, "tell us of your art."

Then you must pull a serious face and, clearing your throat, begin as follows: the cultivation of art in New Orleans is rapidly increasing. We have an artists’ association that keeps up a fine school of art. It is true our fine artists almost starve to death for the lack of patronage, but that is owing to the spread of a disease commonly called Anglomania.

Many of our rich people are ashamed to buy "home pictures" for fear it will be thought they have not been abroad, so they bring home inferior copies of Fortuny and Millais and Vernat and Corot, and would not know a bird by Perelli or an interior by Molinary if they should see it.

The Tulane Art League for Women is turning out pottery work so fine it would make a sensation in New York. Some day it may, if there is a fall in pottery, make a sensation in New Orleans. Within the next two weeks we are to have two art exhibitions, and the stranger who is interested in art should visit the art school on Camp Street and the art league on Baronne Street.

In the matter of art, there are stores and second-hand shops where beautiful bronzes and porcelains and carved things are still to be found; the would-be buyer must search the auction rooms and the few bric-a-brac shops below Canal Street. Here, occasionally fine tables, sets of oak furniture, exquisite gas fixtures, etc., are to be picked up.

In the matter of architecture, New Orleans has most charming characteristics. The fine old Spanish houses below Canal Street, the hand-wrought balconies of delicate iron work, the Spanish-looking markets, the beautiful courtyards and stone tunnel entrances to houses that are enriched with arched and mullioned windows, and jalousies and peaked roofs. All these are as well known as if Baedecker had printed a guide book about them.

The nomenclature of our streets has already been made the subject of more than one pleasant magazine article. We have the nine muses in a row, beginning at a point just above Lee Circle, and in the French Quarter, history, romance and religion have been exhausted for characteristic names. New Orleans is the most picturesquely-named city in the matter of streets in the country.

What is there lacking when you learn that a beautiful prima donna lives on Calliope Street; that the pink domino you met at the bal masque dwells in Terpsichore Street; that the little lost child crying on the corner only knows her home is in Goodchildren Street; that the snarling couple who are doing New Orleans tell you they are stopping in Felicity Street, and that the priest who confesses you lodges in Piety Street, and the descendant of a French King inhabits and entresol in the Rue Bourbon, and the Indian herb doctor lives in a cottage in the upper end of Tehoupitoulas Street!

So it goes. Of avenues we have not many. Here, an avenue means a broad, handsome, fashionable thoroughfare, and the word avenue is an innovation of the last three or four years. St. Charles, Jackson and Tulane are our only "avenues."

And now for "amusements." A brass band is always to be heard in New Orleans. We have theaters galore, from the beer gardens and dance halls on Royal Street to the St. Charles, Academy Grand Opera, and French Opera, and the 35-cent delights of the uptown Avenue, the downtown Faranta and the Dime Museum.

An athletic clubhouse, a racing ground, a bicycle clubhouse, and amateur artists’ camera club, all these are amusements.

There are swimming baths at the lake, lectures at Tulane University, and concerts at the public concert halls without number. The music at several of the Catholic and Episcopalian churches is so fine that it may be classed as an amusement for strangers who generally desire to attend churches where fine music is to be expected. This is notably true of the Cathedral, of the Jesuits’ Church of Christ’s, and Trinity.

Apartment houses or "flats" are not common in New Orleans, but a great many persons live in rooms and take their meals at restaurants. In vicinities near Canal Street rooms can be secured at from $3 to $5 a week. The "light housekeeping" method, including an oil stove and a canned goods diet, is almost unknown here.

To return with an afterthought to architecture, it will be seen that many of our finest residences are of wood. This is a damp climate and wood serves better than stone. It is only in the old French part of town, the first built, that everything is of brick and stone. The Picayune Building and the Customhouse, which covers a square of ground, are the largest granite buildings in the city. The latter is said to have sunk two or three feet since it was erected.

In the matter of asylums and homes, New Orleans is admirably provided. There are charitable institutions for all sorts and conditions of people. The Charity Hospital is beyond doubt the most magnificent institution of its kind in the United States and is not excelled by any similar institution in Europe. It has a separate sewerage system from the city and is fitted with all modern appliances suitable to such a place. All charities are culminated in the Unsectarian Aid Society, which looks after the city’s friendless poor, gives them food and makes them pay for it in work.

In the matter of baths, Turkish, Russian and vapor baths are to be had; also the massage treatment, and at the lake are swimming baths, but at this season of the year these are not open for the public.

There are a number of breweries in New Orleans, and the beer made here is first class, and in this respect New Orleans is to the South what Milwaukee is to the country at large.

This is a great boating community. There are boating clubs both at Spanish Fort and West End, and yachts and launches of all sorts are always for hire with or without crews. The Pontchartrain Lake is a delightful yachting water. Excursions can be made to Mandeville, Covington and the fashionable resorts along the lake coast, such as Pass Christian and Bay St. Louis.

There are excellent book stores in New Orleans, and the second-hand book shops on Poydras Street, Royal and Exchange Alley are particularly inviting, reminding one in the nature and value of their possessions of the book stalls along the Seine in Paris. These are to be found fringing the sidewalks and with dingy rooms crammed to the ceilings with precious volumes. It is said that more rare French and Spanish volumes are to be found at these New Orleans stalls than in any other city in the country.

Cathedrals—we have but one, the French cathedral in Jackson Square. It is a fine old building, worthy of a visit, particularly about 10 o’clock of a Sunday morning. In the matter of churches, the visitor will find here all denominations, an many handsome edifices and several distinguished clergymen. A customary pilgrimage is to the Chapel of St. Roche, via the Claiborne or Rampart and Dauphine cars, and another visit should be made to the Italian church on Rampart Street, whose patron saint is Saint Bartolemeo.

Our street car system is very convenient. Every car has its final stopping place in Canal Street, and one cannot get lost in this city.

The Catholic burying grounds are the oldest. They are built with tombs above ground. It is not often possible to bury below ground in this city. The oldest, well worth a visit are the St Louis cemeteries. The Metairie, an unsectarian cemetery, is the tiniest in the South. It has many magnificent monuments to the Confederate dead. Chalmette, the national cemetery, is on the field of the Battle of New Orleans. It is several miles below the city, but easily reached. The Levee and Barracks cars go near it and leave the tourists to take a pleasant walk along the levee past orange plantations.

Our old burying grounds have characteristic features seen nowhere else in the country, and many of them are like copies in miniature of the famous Pere la Chaise of Paris.

Club life is gay here. The Pickwick is one of the most beautiful of buildings. The Elks Club, over the Grand Opera House entrance, is finely quartered. The Whist and Chess Club has more than a thousand members. The Woman’s Clubhouse on Camp Street is for the convenience of all women. The Pickwick and Boston are the swell clubs, and the Commercial is one of the most popular. The Harmony Club is rich and influential. All of these in a row on Canal Street make it, for a block or so, like a section of Pall Mall.

The seat of the city government is at the City Hall on St. Charles Street, by the Cotton Palace. A fine library is in this building, and on Carnival day the king goes here to receive the keys of the city, and generally views the night parade of Proteus from this balcony.

There are no temperance coffee-houses in New Orleans, but there are innumerable well-kept saloons bearing this name where free lunches are served, provided the patron takes a 10 or 15-cent drink, which may be milk, cold tea, lemonade or something stronger, just as he prefers. At the Creole exchange purely Creole dishes re served—in Creole fashion.

A picturesque feature of New Orleans is its commerce. Here are ships leading for all the great ports of the world, and a tour along our riverfront is full of delight, adventure, tar and mishaps in the way of falling into mud holes. Luggers and schooners from the islands come loaded with fruit, and are wonderfully pretty to look upon. At the Old and New Basins, right in the heart of the city, very charming suggestions of bayou travel can be got from the captains of charcoal schooners.

Canal Street and St. Charles Avenue are two of the most magnificent thoroughfares in the world. The one is lined with shops equal to those of Paris, the other with beautiful homes. St. Charles Avenue is seven miles long, and is paved with asphalt its entire length. The tourist who fails to take a drive out to Carrollton, its flowery suburb, misses a charming outing.

New Orleans is lighted from one end to the other by electric lights. Both towers and arc lights are used. The light is in more general use here than in any other city, and on fete occasions rich citizens light their houses and grounds with it.

The free or volunteer fire department of the city is an interesting feature. The department numbers over 20,000 members. The system is admirable, and the engine-houses and the electric alarm are perfect. On returning from a fire it is the custom of the gallant fireboys to sing songs. The firemen’s annual parade on the fourth of March is equal to the Carnival in the brilliancy of its spectacular effect.

The first church of New Orleans was St. Mary’s the bishop’s church, standing on Chartres Street adjacent to the Arch-Episcopal palace. The first Protestant church stood on Canal Street on the site now occupied by the Grand Opera House and a block of store buildings.

Public hacks in New Orleans are to be hired plentifully. The usual charges for an afternoon or evening are from $3 to $5. On holidays such as the Carnival, the prices are raised. The cabs are like those of Paris, and in the way of carriages the Victoria and brougham are the most used. Herdics are not used here, neither are hansoms, and a bargain should always be made with the driver.

There is nothing the matter with the hotels of New Orleans. One can live in them to suit one’s purse or on the convenient European plan. They are large, with pleasant rooms, and none of them is over four stories high. The best ones are right in the heart of the city. There are French hotels and cafes combined, quite grand edifices for the pleasure of millionaires, and a number of quiet little inns where the cuisine is perfect and the service satisfactory, and where one can get a very good taste of French life.

The kindergarten school system flourishes here, and some of the finest kindergartens are popularly attended, although as yet the system has not been introduced into the public schools.

The Howard Library, Tulane Library and the Free Library at the Woman’s Exchange are all worth a visit. The magnificent Howard Library was the gift of a young girl to the city. There are a number of free reading rooms, notably one maintained by a Band of King’s Daughters, and one at the Seamen’s Bethel.

The only lunatic asylum in the city is the Louisiana Retreat, a private Catholic institution, very finely managed on the most humane principles, and well worth a visit by those interested in the treatment and care of the insane. The city lodges many of its insane here.

The only museums the city has are connected with the great Tulane University on Dryades Street. Our public monuments do not amount to much. The Franklin statue in Lafayette square is a fine marble cut by Hiram Powers, and not intended for outdoor exposure. The Clay statue on Canal Street, the Jackson equestrian statue on Jackson Square, and the Margaret statue and the Lee monument are our best.

New Orleans is nothing if not musical. Finer concerts are given here than elsewhere; the general musical culture exceeds that in other cities, and it is the only city in the United States that maintains each year a three or four-months season of grand opera, sung in French or Italian.

This is the best possible point of departure for outings into Louisiana. Delightful river trips are by boat up the Teche to New Iberia or St. Martinsville, going into the very heart of the Evangeline country. From New Iberia an excursion taking only about three hours can be made to the salt mines. By going to Morgan City, excursions on boats and steam tugs can be made at a small cost down to Last Island—and through the beautiful winding ways by which the broad Atchafalaya reaches the Gulf.

New Iberia is the heart of a great duck, snipe and fishing country. Bayou Lafourche is a boat trip, occupying about three days. This bayou is scarcely less lovely than the Teche. An outing par excellence is to Abita Springs, to Covington and the beautiful Bogue Falaya, one of the loveliest rivers in the world.

A delightful river trip is from New Orleans to Monroe or Alexandria, or even to Shreveport. It takes about four days to go up and has all the charming elements of southern steamboat travel. Over the lake, to beautiful Pass Christian, Biloxi and Beauvoir, the home of the ex-President of the Confederacy, can be done in a few hours.

A ride of an hour or so by the Queen and Crescent, or the Jackson Route, takes one into the pine hills of Mississippi. There are small boats going daily to the jetties, and the luxury of a river trip is only tested by a journey up the Mississippi to Bayou Sara or Vicksburg. These big boats stop continuously, and the tourist has ample opportunity to see plantation life, southern villages, and how it is to be boating along the Mississippi.

If the tourist desires a sea voyage he can sail hence to Havana or Galveston or to Nicaragua and Bluefields, or he can, by the railroad, speed rapidly into the yellow heart of Mexico.

The most delightful trips will be found to be those over the lake, by rail or steamer, and into the Evangeline country by the stern-wheel boats that ply the bayous.

For outings in the city, there are the rambles through the quaint and devious ways of the French town, and the Garden District, with its magnificent homes set in fine gardens, can be visited by carriage, streetcar or foot. The markets should be done on Sunday—the opera should be seen and heard on a Saturday night.

There is much to be seen in and about New Orleans, and whether you are taking it on foot or en voiture, or afloat in your own canoe, I wish you much pleasure and a bon voyage, monsieur!