Street Scene

12 years old, I would walk from the Iberville housing project, in back of the big department stores on Canal on weekends or during the summer....
There was a fountain pool on Rampart Street where people would throw pennies. If it looked promising, I would take off my sneakers, roll up my pants, and wade in to get a little spending money. Sometimes, I would hunt for soft drink and beer bottles and sell them at the grocery.
My walks would take me past parking garages, shoe repair and barbar shops as I eased into the Quarter.
I would walk down Bourbon Street during the day. Trucks would be loading up the clubs and restaurants with beer and seafood. There were pictures of dancers in outrageous costumes in the windows...Chris Owens, Linda Bridgette, they were famous. Al Hirt was a trumpet player like me....with his own club.
If I crossed over to Royal, there were antique shops, and the coolness of the lobby of the Montleone Hotel. I wondered what it would be like to stay there. The lobby full of marble.
The shop owners were very kind to me. I would ask questions about the paintings and the furniture....endless questions, like I was actually in the market for the stuff.
There were coin and stamp collections to look at in glass cases. And jewelry, and sculpture, and lamps.
So much to see. The world opened up.
My grandfather, Joseph, had shown me how to get bags full of bananas by picking them up under the conveyor belts unloading the boats into the warehouses by the river. It was a rush to come home with them and feel like I had done something important. Someone said there were poisonous spiders hiding in the bananas, but I never saw any.
My grandfather said that it was always good to carry a bag with you. You never knew.....
By the river were railroad tracks to walk, the smell of beer from the brewery, and big barges pushed by tugboats churning up chocolate...all foamy. Sometimes, I would catch the Algiers ferry just to stand by the railing and watch the water. I think that's where I first thought about the chocolate.
On Decatur Street there was a place that had alligator hides all salted down and furs the trappers brought in. I went for the smell of the place, and they let me go and rub my hands on the hides. I felt dangerous.
Central Grocery was on Decatur...still is. The cheeses and the spices..... There were sacks of beans sitting on the floor, dried fish, and coffee.
Except for a quarter or two, I had no money, and the whole time I walked, I felt like I was in a bubble, floating through all this...just looking and smelling and sometimes touching. But it wasn't really for me...and yet it was mine, and it still is.