Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Echoes of a Lost Cemetery

Sadly one of the significant factors to the loss of Coast history is hurricanes. My grandfather's family cemetery and many other cemeteries along the Coast have fallen victims to the ravages of the many hurricanes. Whether from the waves washing over and washing out tombs, markers and headstones, or covering them completely with debris from the howling winds, the Coast has unfortunately lost a good many of our Old Cemeteries. However, there is once such cemetery in Hancock County that was very old and was unfortunately destroyed first by winds and waves, then again by those who were unaware that a cemetery lay below the debris and in the clean up efforts completely plowed down any remaining vestiges of the cemetery.
This cemetery was known as the Victor Ladner Cemetery and according to testimony given by my grandfather who grew up next to it, contained the graves of his family, including his grandfather and his great grandfather, as well as various family members. There is some debate as to some of the family possibly being moved to another cemetery after the 1947 Hurricane. As of a few weeks ago I thought the cemetery was lost to us forever. Now, there seems to be hope that we may yet find the resting place of those lost graves.
An effort to have a headstone added there for Victor Ladner Jr. who fought in the Civil War is under way. As well as efforts of finding the lost graves of several other family members. Many thanks to the Shieldsboro Rifles division of the SCV for their help and Dorty Necaise for all his help.

Friday, July 1, 2016

The Creole Dedeaux's

The children of Henry Dedeaux and Rosalie Saucier:
Homer Dedeaux
Martial Dedeaux
Anatole Dedeaux
Adelaide Dedeaux
Louise Dedeaux
John Delmas Dedeaux
Armand Dedeaux
Helena Dedeaux

The town of Delmas located in Harrison County near the Wolf River is named after John Delmas Dedeaux. The family of John Delmas Dedeaux once attended the church, Our Lady of Good Hope in Delisle, MS. However a racial split sent the Dedeaux family to Our Lady Of Chartres, fondly called The Little Mission church by those who attend services there. After the split John Delmas Dedeaux  went in search of a new spiritual home for the fractured Catholic family and found a little Church in north Long Beach that he had relocated several miles from New Hope, this became in 1912, Our Lady of Chartres and is still attended by descendants of Delmas Dedeaux today. There was also one a small one room school house next to the church.

The Community of Dedeaux was founded by his brother Homer Dedeaux. Their cousin John Jerius Dedeaux donated the land where a combined school and Sacred Heart Catholic Church were built in the Dedeaux Community where it still remains today.

From what I have found on the family of Henry Dedeaux and Rosalie is that Rosalie was a mulatto and possible the daughter of a Saucier slave owner, either Henry Saucier or possible Pierre. Many trees have her as the daughter of Pierre Saucier and Isabel Nicaise. This can not be so, as neither were mulatto. In the 1870 census Rosalie is listed as Rosalie Saucier with son Armand, daughter's Louise and Helena, children listed as Dedeaux and all as mulatto's. In 1880 she can be found with son Armand's family and is listed as Rosalie Dedeaux, in later census' she is listed as a widow. I believe Rosalie and Azelie Saucier who was married to Clement, Henry's brother and was also listed as a mulatto may be sisters.  This family has been difficult to trace and if any reader's have anything of value to add please contact me.

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Katrina 10 years

I can hardly believe it's been ten years since the storm that changed our lives here on the Coast. I can barely go down to the beach front any longer, it hurts too much still. All the emptiness. I like to keep the image of childhood in my mind. Miles of beautiful old homes right across from the beach with ancient oaks sprawling alongside. Their limbs reaching out to create a canopy over the roadway that a five year old girl laying in the back of a station wagon studied upon passing beneath once upon a time.

I was five months old during the worst storm to ever hit the Mississippi Coast. Her name was Camille. Every year on the anniversary of Camille, my mother would get out her worn pages of "her" story to read us. The story of how in 1969 we survived a monster storm when so many did not.

I never thought that I would one day have my own story to write.

Living on the coast hurricanes are a way of life. I can remember so many, Frederick in 1979, Bob that was just a small wind storm and we went out side in and let the winds blow us gently. Elena, Georges, Ivan and so many more.I always get a funny feeling when it is still way out and I seem to always know the ones that are going to hit us. Katrina I knew was coming for us. Even when they said New Orleans, I knew they were wrong. The Mississippi River always pulls them in and puts us on the bad side.

I began to pack my house up. All my kids baby items, all the clothing for school, all the photo albums. Everything that would fit in the back of the car we put there. We were told to evacuate and we left for my mother's house to stay with them for the storm. We all slept on the living room floor that night. Actually I never slept. I lay there listening to the squall lines that were starting to come in and a transistor radio for news updates. About 5 am my mother got up and started to cook us breakfast, she fried bacon and made canned biscuit donuts. She just took the last donuts out of the pan when the winds got up enough the the electricity went out. it was only a little after 6am. We sat there together in the dining room and ate out last hot meal for weeks. None of us knowing that our lives were about to change forever. Soon the winds were howling and the roof was lifting up and setting back down, you could see the crack on the wall where it was coming off. We could see across at the neighbors their roof doing the same thing. Trees cracked and splintered until we could no longer see the back yard. It was just a maze of trees down. The radio was reporting rescues and people calling for help trapped in their attics with the water rising below them.We worried about our family members who were a few blocks off the beach. A report came in that there was a large tornado in their area and that on their street there was furniture floating in the roadway. I couldn't take anymore and went and lay on the bed and stared at the wall. Finally my husband came in and said you have to be with us in case we have to get out. I don't know how much longer this roof is going to hold. I remember feeling numb and I looked at him and said I don't care. Didn't you hear it's all gone. They said the gulf has come all the way up the highway. That means its all gone. I went and sat and just prayed for it to end.
Finally around noon, I couldn't take it anymore, I wanted to know if my home was still there. I wanted to see if my Aunt and Uncle were alive. The eye had passed and the winds had shifted so my husband and I decided to try to get out to see. What we found was horrifying. At the end of my parents road is a major hospital, the parking lot was filled with the bayou and the cars were floating in it. We managed to get to the highway after my husband stopped a dozen times to cut trees out of the way. We got just a few miles and I could see the shopping center and movie theater had water in them. Flooded. Looked like a large lake. Then when we got near the Walmart it too was flooded. I began to cry. The hotels were flooded and people were standing together on the balconies talking. The very hotel where they had put our beloved sea lions in the hotel pool for safety was flooded over and the sea lions were washed out into the gulf. To be found later. Poor babies.  Suddenly we had to stop. Ahead of us was a wall of water. I said what is that? Oh my God that is the Gulf? It is this far north? If the water was pushed this far north of the coast there can't be anything left south of us. We had to turn around and head back. We finally made it to our neighborhood but the power lines were across the road and we couldn't get through so we decided to go the back way around and park and walk through the woods to our house. I will never forget until the day I die the sounds of those trees creaking around me as I walked through knee deep water to get to my house. What was once thick forest was now a bunch of bare spindly sticks bent from the force of the wind and they were loudly creaking. I was about to jump out of my skin waiting for one to  snap, Finally in what I can only describe as a Scareltt O'Hara moment, I ran ahead of my husband to see it, climbing over downed trees, I had made it, and I saw it, It was there. My home still stood, minus the tin roof that was now in the pool. We walked around front and saw our bedroom window curtains flapping in the breeze. The window was busted. We went inside and the carpet was drenched. I was walking around looking to see if everything seemed ok minus the rain coming down inside of my house, when a miracle happened. The phone rang. I manage to find it and in a sort of awe answered it to hear my daughter yelling I got through its them. Mom are ya'll ok?? We are scared are you coming back? I laughed and said yes we have to board up the window so no one can get in and we will be back. Our neighbor helped us board the window up and in exchange for using our pool water to flush their toilets they agreed to watch the house.
We trudged back through the woods to the car and headed back to my parents house.After we got settled in my husband decided that he had to get in to work as he was a District Chief for the Cities Fire Department and people needed help. He kissed us all goodbye and packed his things, little did we know we wouldn't see one another again for 6 days. He promised me he would get to my Aunt and Uncles and let u know if they were alive.
That evening we were all exhausted. We listened to the radio reports with heavy hearts. Our cellphones did not work because the towers were down. Our land lines would sometimes work but the lines were jammed. We heard they were sending trucks with ice and we could go pick it up in the grocery parking lot. We loaded into the car and headed that way knowing what food we had left had to be iced down. It was getting dark and we stood in line next to those refrigerated trucks for several hours waiting for them to get the order to start unloading. The drivers sat in their trucks staring at us and we just stood there  waiting. Finally the police showed up and we were told they were sorry there was a mistake and we would not be getting ice tonight after all. So we all went home heavy hearted. We had no supper that night. I went and lay on the bed in my sister's old room and opened the window. I could hear my family talking quietly I dozed. Suddenly I hear a loud truck and a familiar noise it was a fire truck pulled up outside my parents home. Two men were standing at the window and I spoke to them. They said my husband had sent them to tell me he had made it in ok and had seen my Aunt and Uncle. They were ok. They had spent the entire storm bailing water and standing in half a foot of water, said the water was just running down the walls. But they were ok as was our 93 year old great aunt who lived with them.
Sleep came and before we knew it it was 6am and we were up to try to find ice. We followed whatever lead was given on the radio eventually getting a bag of ice per family. It was the greatest feeling getting that ice. I can not even fully explain what the fear of suddenly not being able to provide food for your family is like. I lost 20pound in the next few weeks making sure my kids ate before I did, and often only drinking water. The next day was full of loud sounds. The firemen and neighbors were everywhere cutting trees. We heard the levees broke in New Orleans.

We were so desperate for ice. We bought a bag of $1 ice for $10. There is a special place in hell for that person!
My mother began to cook everything in the deep freeze before it would spoil. She cooked on a coleman stove.
Now we were told the National Guard was coming and we were getting MRE's. Thanks to all the wonderful people across our nation we were also getting supplies. Our shopping center that was under water from the bayou 2 days before would be the distribution center. Every morning we had a routine we got up got in line and received a box of MRE's and a bag of ice and a case of water. Sometimes a packet of necessities.  Dog and cat food,  toilet paper. One day we were about to pull off after the guardsmen had loaded my car and one yelled hang on and pulled out what looked like a pink bag. He handed it to my daughter it was a lunch box. She cried because hers was ruined in our now molding wet house. Inside was an uplifting letter from the person who had sent it from North Carolina. We were all crying by time we got home from the spirit of human kindness.
Those guardsmen became like family to us. We saw them at least twice a day,once in the morning to get ice and again in the evening to get ice.
Our nights were filled with the noise of generators, and scary tales of people stealing them and chain saws and gasoline. Our neighbors stayed up at night guarding with their guns. On the third night I got a phone call from my sisters friend she wanted to know if we were alive as the news they were getting was scary. I said yes, and she said hold on I am going to try to connect you to your sister through a three way call. I went outside trying to keep the signal and climbed on top of my SUV and from there in the darkness I heard my sister's voice and I was crying and yelling out. I got you, I can hear you, can you hear me? and I could hear the neighbors laughter as they celebrated with me.
When I told her everything she said ya'll hold on we are coming. We have people here who are donating cash and gasoline we are stopping at family and friends all the way from Connecticut to Mississippi. I said there are no more bridges you can't even get in from Alabama, she said we will get there and they did. The brought food, Sandwich meat, fresh bread, dog food, and best of all gasoline.

Before they came though my husband showed up out of the blue, he had a pizza for the kids from Pizza Hut. They had donated it to the firemen and he did not feel right eating it when his kids only had a sandwich. I warmed that thing upon foil on the gas grill and we ate like kings that night!

It was two weeks before we got power back which was pretty quick considering. Thanks to all the out of state help. My husband finally got to come home and help his family due to all the fire trucks coming in from out of state to relieve them.

We lost a lot, all my clothing and furniture were piled up on the roadside to be collected as trash. The Coast lost everything, but together as a people we pulled together and helped one another. We shared our food, water and ice, protected one another. We became stronger. We survived!
The damage, debris piles
Volunteers in the distribution line

Waiting in line for ice

The line of cars in the distribution line

Sunday, June 14, 2015

Isabelle LaForce

Not much is known about Isabelle LaForce. It was thought that she was the wife of Basil Ladner. However, I have come across information that leads me to believe they were never married. While doing some research for a friend, Dorty Necaise,  I came across the baptismal record in The Ladner Odyssey by Nap Cassibry for Alexander Basil Ladner son of Isabelle LaForce and Basil Ladner.
On the 18th day of February in 1817, I the undersigned Priest of the St. Louis Church, New Orleans, baptized and imposed with Holy Oils, a boy, born on the 29thof May, 1813 legitimate son of Basil Ladner and Isabelle son in Biloxi and Gravela Lafaure(Isabelle La Force) born and living in this city.
         Paternal grandparents: Bautita Ladnair and Maria Francisca Boudreau.
         Maternal Grandparents:Joseph Lafaure (Quebec) and  Marie St. Germain(Natchez)
         Godparents:Norbert Brutin amd Margarita Fernandez. to whom I notified of the spiritual   relationship. So that it may be evident I signed. /S/ Father P. Koine (SLC BB 8  90b A 458)

Note, that it states born and living in this city, as though Isabelle still lives in New Orleans where the baptism record was written. Also knowing that by 1817 when this baptism took place Basil was married to Helen Morin and had several children with her. 

Therefore either Isabelle and Basil were never married or she had died before he married Helen. But since she is mentioned as though still living in 1817 I would think it would be  more likely to be they were not married. 

A quick dig through the Diocese of Baton Rouge Catholic Church Record Vol. 2&3 found the Laforce family in Assumption Parish. Several children are listed in baptisms in Assumption Parish. 
Santiago(Jacques) LaForce born in 1800 lists his grandparents as Paul Laforce and Magdelene Bijeau and Francois ST. Germain and Marie (metiza) (Indian).

In the  Ms  Coast Historical & Genealogical Society Vol 17-20 it states that Isabelle LaForce is recorded as "natural  de Ochita' Or as an Ouachita Indian. It also says that Jacques Ryan married Elizabeth LaForce and Thomas Ryan Married Isabelle Laforce, Basil Ladner also married an Isabelle LaForce. Azelie LaForce was godmother to Pierre Ryan and Victor LaForce was godfather to Victor Ryan. Most of the LaForce baptisms and marriages took place between 1810 and 1840. One of the Laforce family, Santiago is recorded as a resident of Lafourche Parish , La. 

One of the children of Basil, Jean Baptiste was born in 1811 which indicates that he may also be the son of Isabelle. He is listed in the 1850 census as a Mulatto, which could be because of his Indian heritage. He married Emma George and they had 5 children one of which was Hermogene Ladner, (aka Eugene) who went on to marry Catherine Raboteau who was a mulatto woman, the daughter of free persons of color Jules Cyrille Raboteau and Ophelia Rochon.

Hermogene and Catherine had the following children:
Marcelin who is living with her Rochon family in the 1900 census along with several siblings and they are all listed as black .
Ernest, Euphrasia Ophelia, Marie Eulalie, Eugene, Aurelia Catherine, Elizabeth, and Marie Victoria Ladner. 

The Laforce family was apparently affluent enough to own several slaves and a large section of land in Assumption Parish, La. Joseph Laforce listed his occupation in the 1865 Louisiana IRS Tax Assesment List as a Retail Dealer. Several lines above him is the name J. Lafitte, wholesale dealer.  In 1788 in Natchez Joseph mortgaged his estate for $565.00 and in 1793 he sold 1000 arpents of land on the Ms River near the mouth of the Yazoo, which had belonged to his wife Marie St Germain which she had inherited from her father. In the book Shawnee Heritage it says Joseph Laforce was a mulatto who married an Indian and their family was a Black/Cherokee metis.

.Marie St. Germain's father was Jean Louis Pochet dit ST. Germain he was an Interpreter for the Natchez Indians he died shortly before 8 May 1786 near Natchez after "a fall from the top of a tree in the Cypress Swamp." (McBee, pages 33 and 34.)Marie's mother was a metiz woman or half Indian, her name was Marie LeFleur the daughter of Henry LeFleur the Indian Interpreter, who owned a good bit of land in Natchez and whose common law wife was an Indian woman. More can be found about Henry LeFleur in the book The Natchez Court Records, 1767-1805, by May Wilson McBee

  Basile basically had two separate families. One of mixed Indian heritage that married into the local mulatto families of Rochon and Raboteau and the other family being white.  

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Researchers Beware

Beware that out there may be lurking a person who is also researching the same line as you are. Gasp! I know absurd idea  right? This person may suddenly come across your information and just as suddenly accuse you of stealing it from them because after all they are the only ones to have this information, and how dare you not source them!

Yes, seriously this happened to me. Strangely twice by the same person in a matter of 6 months. Apparently they forgot the first time they accused me and then after being set straight and everything was made nice they decided to come back again with the same said accusations that were cleared up previously. This time telling me they have found pertinent information but as punishment they will with hold this information from me. Gosh thanks!

I prefer to find my own pertinent information any way, more fun and challenging that way.

Saturday, October 25, 2014


As I was talking my art students, grades k-6, this week about the Mexican tradition of sugar skulls for Dia de los Muertos, or the Day of the Dead, I realized that the community we live in and the culture here on the Gulf Coast has a lot in common with what I am about to teach my students.

I began to alter my lesson from a discussion on Mexican culture and art, to one about the heritage and traditions right here in our own community.

The school that I teach at is rural and most of the families are related to one another. The cemetery is not too far away from the school and I have seen on more than one All Saints Day celebration several of my students there.
I could see their eyes lighting up, their hands began to  raise and soon they were wriggling in their seats anxious to tell me their cemetery story. I told how the Mexican culture celebrated the day after Halloween by putting out candles, flowers and even brought their loved ones favorite foods to the cemetery.
They were like, "But that's what my family does too!" Soon we began to discuss not just the art lesson, but, family and generations of tradition. A tradition that I once thought may end with my generation.

This morning my husband and I spent the morning out at the cemetery cleaning and putting out new flowers. Getting things ready for next Saturday, All Saints Day. Catching up with cousins and friends that you haven't seen since last year at the cemetery is one of my favorite parts. The cemetery was filled with many people out cleaning, but the people there were mainly of the older generation. Suddenly, I hear the voices of young girls laughter and I look up to see three of my young students heading towards me. I couldn't help but to smile and I called to them, "Did you come just to see me?" We all laughed and they began to look around at the old graves near me, one asked, "Who is this? Do you know?" I told her yes, that was my husband's great great grandfather, Sherrie Moran and the road I live on is named after him. I told her to look at the dates, see how old it is? He was born in the 1800's. They were impressed. They began to ask me questions on how do you manage to clean the graves without stepping on where the person was buried, among other things. Their mother walked over curious to see just whom their daughter's were conversing with at the cemetery, and she told me how they came home talking about the sugar skull lesson and also about how similar our cultures were. I was happy to know that not only did the girls get something out of the art lesson but that they also just might be the next generation to carry on the tradition after all.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Charles Norville Roth

Mathematical Marvel
A Gentleman of the Old School
Large Landholder of Iberville Parish
One of Plaquemine's Main Builders

These are the words used in the heading of Charles Norville Roth's obituary. I had not thought much of him before other than trying to add his children and theirs to my family tree. He was the first cousin of my great grandfather and I knew the family were large landholders, but finding his obituary gave me a little more insight as to who they were. This obituary was a wonderful testament to a man that was well thought of in the community. A man who had strong character and beliefs. A well educated man who used his skills to help further his community and whose ideals were held in esteem by his peers. 

He was born and raised in Plaquemine, Iberville Parish, where he was a successful merchant and  planter. The Roth family (pronounced Row) was an old and distinguished French one. As a business associate of Jacob McWilliams, he ran the mercantile of Roth & McWilliams. Charles held with McWilliams the interest in several large plantations such as, Medora, Upper Irma and Myrtle Grove. He was also the administrator of the Gay estate.

His parents were Charles Norville Roth Sr. and his mother Marie Angelique Marioneaux. Charles married twice, his first wife being Zulma Beck. He married again in 1901 to Elizabeth Walsh and the two of them resided in New Orleans at 479 Broadway until his death. He and Elizabeth had two sons.

During the Civil War his brother Eugene N. Roth joined the service and fought in the war. Charles decided he was needed at home to continue with family business and render aid the best he could from there. He worked during the war as factor for Iberville Parish.

 Charles built the Roth building and the People's Bank and had many investments in local real estate. His biggest claim to fame of the time though seems to stem from his amazing mathematical abilities. His obit states many times how he marveled people at his being able to take large sums and figure them correctly in his head.

He was called a gentleman of the old school, one who despised the modern ways and modern speech. A relic of the antebellum era, one can wonder what he would think of his city today?

What a fascinating man he was!