Before my photographer’s alarm went off at 6:30am, I admired the stunning view of the Gulf of Mexico from my perch on the room’s window ledge. The Gulf seemed peacefully calm and tranquil; with only a passing small boat or two that broke up the glass-like surface of the water. Although the pool wasn’t open yet for hotel patrons, there was one uninvited guest who took advantage of the absence of humans; a great blue heron waded in the warm pool water seemingly in search of food.
By 8:40am on Wednesday July 17, 2019, my companions had the Highlander packed and we were headed West along Beach Boulevard to our first and only Presidential site of the day; one that was only five miles from the hotel. Once Vicki had the vehicle parked behind the museum, the three of us made the short walk to the front of Beauvoir, which was once home to Confederate President Jefferson Davis. The name “Beauvoir” was French for “beautiful to view”; which was the perfect moniker due to the incredible Gulf view. It was hot and humid as I posed for photos in front of the historic Biloxi house; one that was built in 1848. About thirty years later, the owner of Beauvoir invited the ousted Confederate President to live in a cottage she had built for him alongside the main house; she figured Davis could write his memoirs in that small outbuilding. Sarah Dorsey was a lifelong friend of Jefferson Davis and his wife Varina; and when she died, Sarah willed the house and property to Davis’ family. Jefferson Davis left Beauvoir for the final time on November 6, 1889 and he died nearly a month later in New Orleans.
Our tour guide was dressed in period clothing and she had the accent of a Southern Belle as she talked about the history of Beauvoir. When Hurricane Katrina hit the area in 2005, it did extensive damage to the home and property. The guide said that it was a miracle that Beauvoir survived the wrath of Katrina; her 24-foot storm surge engulfed the property and destroyed most of the outbuildings and Presidential Library. Our guide led us inside the home which gave us a look at the later life of Jefferson Davis. Over 90-percent of the furniture in the home was owned by the Davis’ and I enjoyed posing in each of the rooms. One of the biggest disappointments for me, however, was not being able to stand on any of the furniture. Not only was our guide friendly, she was also smart enough to not leave me alone in the house.
After our interior tour ended on the back porch of Beauvoir, the three of us headed for the cottage where Jefferson Davis first lived while at the estate. In 1878, Sarah Dorsey had the small cabin built for the former Confederate President as a place where he could find solitude to write his memoirs called ‘The Rise and Fall of the Confederate Government’. While it would’ve been great to have visited the actual cottage where Davis once resided, the place was a reconstructed exact replica – thanks to Katrina. I posed for a few photos near the exterior before I was carried inside for another picture or two. Understandably there was nothing authentic inside the cottage, which was the reason Tom could place me onto anything he wanted.
We spent less than ten minutes inside the replica cabin before my photographer decided to make the long hike out to the Beauvoir Confederate Cemetery located over a quarter-mile behind the estate. Due to the high humidity and heat, Vicki didn’t make the trek to the burial ground; instead she remained in the shade as she examined her Facebook page on her phone. From my position in the camera case, I could hear Tom as he huffed and puffed his way along the gravel pathway out to the cemetery. Upon our arrival at the small burial ground, I couldn’t help but notice a large, rectangular block of marble; which turned out to be the Tomb of the Unknown Confederate Soldier. In late 1979, human remains of a Confederate soldier were discovered at the Vicksburg battlefield. When the remains could not be positively identified from the artifacts recovered near the body, the Tomb of the Unknown Confederate Soldier was created in the cemetery behind Jefferson Davis’ Biloxi home. The unidentified soldier was buried in a cypress casket in 1980 and the Tomb was dedicated on June 6, 1981. After Tom captured a handful of images of the Confederate Tomb, he carried me into the cemetery where I saw small Confederate flags planted at each of the several hundred gravesites. There was one grave, however, that featured a United States flag rather than a flag of the Confederate States. Ironically, that grave was where Samuel Emory Davis, the President’s father, was buried. The elder Davis had served in the Revolutionary War and died on July 4, 1824 – roughly 37 years before the Confederacy was formed. Samuel Davis fought for independence and liberty for the United States; the same country that his son pledged a solemn oath against in 1861.
As we headed back towards the Presidential Library to meet Vicki, I could hear droplets of sweat from Tom’s forehead as they hit the top of the camera case. Even though it was only 10:30am, the morning heat was intense; at one point, I wondered if my camera guy would make it back without assistance from EMS. Fortunately for me, my chunky Energizer bunny made it back unscathed; we met Vicki near the museum’s entrance where I saw a statue of Jefferson Davis that looked like it had been beaten up. I had wondered if the statue was intentionally made to look worn; symbolic of what Davis had endured after the Civil War. But it turned out the markings were scars left behind by Hurricane Katrina.
I had mixed feelings as Tom carried me inside the Jefferson Davis Presidential Library and Museum. I realized that Davis graduated from West Point and served in the United States military. He also served the public as a member of the U.S. House of Representatives and the U.S. Senate; not to mention his term as Secretary of War under President Franklin Pierce. Jefferson Davis initially opposed war, but when Mississippi succeeded from the Union, Davis left as well; which was the part of his legacy that angered me. In the months leading up to the Civil War, Davis became a major general for the Army of Mississippi. Shortly thereafter, he was selected as the first and only President of the Confederate States of America – first as Provincial President, then as permanent President. That part of his resume turned Davis into a traitor, turncoat, renegade, defector, and a man who led the charge against Abraham Lincoln and the United States of America. Does he deserve a Presidential Library that rivaled some of the American Presidents? In my mind, the answer is a resounding no. I could understand a small museum that preserved artifacts associated with the life of Jefferson Davis; but not a huge building that’s designated a “Presidential Library”. The Civil War was something that no person or bobble head in the United States should be proud of. It was the darkest four years in our country since 1776. While we should never bury that war in the pages of our history books nor ever forget it happened, Americans shouldn’t celebrate it either. Winston Churchill was once quoted as saying: “Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it.”
As my photographer carried me around to several display cases that contained personal artifacts used or owned by Jefferson Davis, it brought the human side of the Confederate President to light. While his monogrammed tobacco pouch and Bible were cool to see, the raincoat that Davis wore when he was captured by Union troops on May 10, 1865 near Irwinville, Georgia actually made me feel sorry for the persecuted leader. But for me, the highlight of our visit to the museum was the ornate horse-drawn catafalque that transported the body of Jefferson Davis during his funeral parade in New Orleans. Tom placed me onto the restored catafalque where I posed for a handful of images. As I stood near the decorative rifles that were attached to the carriage’s side, I envisioned Davis’ copper-lined casket behind me as we slowly moved through the streets during the three-hour procession to Metairie Cemetery in the Big Easy.
Our visit to Beauvoir finished around 11:15am and as I was carried in my camera case to the Highlander, it gave me a chance to reflect more on Jefferson Davis. I had learned that as President of the C.S.A., Davis was well-spoken, confident, and was committed to the Southern cause. Unfortunately for him, Davis also had issues with his own Congress; and sometimes his own ego got in the way. He was a stubborn leader who found it difficult to admit when he was wrong. I laughed to myself when I thought: “I’ll be darned, history does repeat itself!”
Vicki navigated our vehicle along Beach Boulevard almost to the Louisiana border. Since I had never been to the Pelican State, it was another step closer to my goal of visiting all 50 states in the country. As we crossed the Pearl River into Louisiana, I thought to myself: “Thirty-four down and only sixteen states to go!” From an opening in the camera case that was positioned on the backseat, I could see the massive expanse of water known as Lake Pontchartrain. Actually, I saw only a small portion of the lake as we crossed over the narrower Eastern portion on the I-10 Twin Span Bridge. There was a time that Tom had thought of taking his wife and me to New Orleans, but he changed his mind a week or so before we left. NOLA’s problems with parking and daytime crime were the main deterrents; it turned out that Hurricane Barry would’ve only added to the issues there. During our journey around the South side of Lake Pontchartrain, we got within five miles of downtown New Orleans. Hopefully in the future we’ll venture into The Big Easy to visit the Presidential sites there. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll get my hands on some beads as well.
When we arrived at the Cajun Pride Swamp Tour near LaPlace, Louisiana at around 1:20pm, I was surprised to see a ramshackle place with a tin roof; which was where we bought our tickets for the 2:00pm swamp tour. My photographer wandered around the boat docks and searched for wildlife during our half-hour wait. Our group, which consisted of roughly 20 people, boarded the large pontoon boat where we met Captain Nolan. The captain dressed very casually; and besides his thick Cajun accent, he resembled singer-songwriter David Crosby with a dry sense of humor. Throughout the two-hour tour of the Manchac Swamp, we saw dozens of alligators that seemed to know our captain had treats for them. That’s right; when the prehistoric critters swam close to our pontoon, “Crosby” tossed them marshmallows. While it was cool to see the live gators in the water; and at times they were very close to our boat as they munched the ‘Stay Pufts’; the tour almost seemed choreographed at times. I rolled my painted resin eyes when we floated past a 1915 cemetery that was near a shack reputed to be the home of voodoo priestess Julia Brown. But since the owners of Cajun Pride also owned that portion of the swamp, they obviously installed props that were intended to add to the overall mystique. During the last half of the swamp ride, Captain Nolan passed-around a small alligator that everyone held. From what I could tell, every passenger on that vessel handled the small gator except for my photographer’s wife. “Now sit right back and you’ll see some pics; you’ll need no alibi. Enjoy the pictures from our swamp boat tour; snapped by my camera guy. The mate was a mighty bobble head; the Skipper seemed immature. The passengers set sail that day; for a two-hour tour. A two-hour tour.” Do you think Tom and I watch too much TV Land?
There were times during our two-hour boat ride that we got very close to the alligators, and I was glad that I didn’t look like or smell like a marshmallow. Some aspects of that tour, however, seemed like a scripted ride at Disney World rather than a spontaneous visit with nature; especially when Captain Nolan called out to the gators and those critters swam up to get their treat. When we returned to the docks at tour’s end, I could tell that my photographer was happy to be back on dry land when he said to his wife: “That tour was different than what I had expected. The swamp didn’t seem like a swamp, and I waited for the alligators to put on top hats and start dancing. Everything just seemed a little hokey to me; and I’m not a fan of tourist traps.”
Back in the Highlander, we headed West towards Baton Rouge where Tom wanted to visit the Capitol Building the next morning. A little over 30 miles into the journey, we found a Hampton Inn near Gonzales, Louisiana where we spent the night. The heat and humidity had taken its toll on my companions, and they seemed exhausted. Luckily for them, there was a Sonic Drive-In next to the hotel where they walked to get dinner. I laughed to myself when my photographer ordered his chocolate shake, and he asked for marshmallow instead of the usual whipped topping. It seemed as though the Stay Pufts he saw the gators munching on had tantalized his sweet tooth. In our room, Tom and Vicki basked in the cool breeze of the air conditioner, which they had set to 64 degrees. When my photographer extinguished the lights at 9:30pm, I stood in the darkness next to the television set. As he began to snore, the only thing that crossed my mind was: “See ya later, alligator”. That thought quickly left my resin-filled head when I realized it was as hokey as our swamp tour.
