THE NEW ORLEANS FAIR GROUNDS - EST. 1972 - GENTILLY RD.
NEW ORLEANS, LA.
POST CARD DATED 1917.
It was a pretty Spring day in New Orleans. The year was 1917. Winter was at last over. Being a Saturday, there ws no school, so Charlie had the day for himself - and there was "big doings" today! It was 8:00 in the morning, and already he had dressed himself and was in the process of oiling and slicking back his hair - looking at himself in the mirror to make sure he looked just right. He was a sturdy lad of just 11 summers, if you didn't count the one that was soon to come.
"Bonjour! Et qu'est-ce que tu fais debout si tôt?" asked his mother, Rosa. "What are you doing up so early?"
Rosa Meilleur was a New Orleans Créole lady of French ancestry who still spoke French. Charlie's father was fourth generation German and spoke no French. In fact, few people in the neighborhood spoke the language nowadays. The overwhelming majority of the city's population was no longer French-speaking, and the language by this time was dying out, even among the staunchest of French families. Charlie, however, loved to converse in it with his mother, who spoke "proper" French, and not the "Cajun" patois they used in the country.
"Je vais aller à la foire!" he answered, meaning " I'm going to go to the fair!"
"Scrosh-PRIE, huh, Mamma?" Charlie's little brother Babe chimed in. Now little Eugene did not speak or understand a single word of French, but whenever he would hear his big brother speak it, he'd make up a word or two. It was gibberish, but it was his way of including himself in on the conversation.
There was a race track nearby on Gentilly Boulevard. It was called the "Fair Grounds" and it was appropriately named today. Racing season ran for several months during the late Fall and wintertime, but come Spring, the races had been run, and the huge grounds were deserted - except
for the occasional special event.
He was ready at last! Before leaving, Rosa gave her son a dollar bill so he could have a good time there. Then she kissed him good bye. Charlie bid au revoir to his Mamma and little brother, and happily joined a few other neighborhood boys who were walking briskly down North Gayoso street toward Gentilly Boulevard and the main entrance of the race track.
There was a carnival, or county fair going on. There were bands, typical carnival games of skill and chance, and there was even a circus balloon tethered to the ground, giving fair-goers a chance to see the world from aloft. There were eats aplenty, and special shows were in the offing.
A FAIR GUESS
KENNETH E. HALL 18 September, 2014 Houston TX
Once inside the grounds themselves, there was lots to do - like throwing baseballs at stacks of lead bottles to try to knock them down. One can imagine that, taking place in New Orleans, the birthplace of JAZZ, music was playing everywhere.
There was a large tent - the kind used in the South for religious revivals. But there was nothing religious taking place inside this canopy today. The boys went in, and stood in the aisle toward the back, jostling each other while straining to hear what was being said.
On stage was a huckster - the "Great Whodatunkit" (not his real name!) - knower of one - knower of all - seer of all things large and small - or so the sign outside the tent probably said. As the boys listened, they heard the man call out to various people in the audience, apparently at random, and telling them specific details about each one. The boys giggled and guffawed every time the crowd gasped in awe, for the man seemed to be correct on EVERY guess.
The lads were not buying this: Lucky guesses? No, it just couldn't be. There's trickery afoot! The man up on stage just had to be in cohoots with a few planted members of the audience, and that's how the trick is played, they thought.
The old adage goes: "A fool and his money are quickly parted." Circus mogul P.T. Barnum is quoted as saying: "There's a SUCKER born every minute." Clearly, these neighborhood urchins were not that gullible. After awhile of this tomfoolery, and goaded on by his pals, Charlie hollered out from the crowd: " Hey, Mista! You're just a huckster and a fraud and a phoney! It's nuttin' but BUNK, I tell ya!" Kids of New Orleans spoke with an accent closely resembling that of Brooklyn, NY!
The crowd glared at the boys - especially at little Charlie, who towered over his companions by at least a foot, and also spoke the loudest. They didn't like the show being interrupted by a few neighborhood punk kids. In fact, a few ushers moved toward the raucous boys, with the intent to throw them out on their ears, but the Great Whodatunkit was a good sport about the whole thing. Unphased by the heckling from the excited youths, he continued with his act.
Just before the ushers got to Charlie and the gang, another challenge to the authenticity of his performance was hurled from - who else!? Charlie, whereupon the man stopped where he was and bade the ushers to leave the lad alone.
"The young fellow whose voice we all have heard - almost as much as MINE - has raised a valid point." He paused for effect.
The crowd simmered down to listen.
"Ah, young man," said the Great Whodatunkit - his speech now being directed at Charlie.
He then addressed the crowd thusly: "The seeds of doubt have been sown; the young lad has so loudly called me a 'fraud' and a 'huckster.' HOWEVER..." he continued, in a oration that would have impressed the comedian W. C. Fields in its grandiose and bombastic tone: "If the young lad who stands before you there would kindly check his right pocket, he would find the dollar bill his mother gave him this morning - just before he left for this very fair!"
There was a hush in the crowd, and all eyes were once again fixed on Charlie, as he produced the greenback. But Charlie was no quitter, and would not let himself be shown up so easily, so he shouts back: "Well, what of it?! Lots o'kids got money..."
All eyes now were on Charlie; he removed the bill from his pocket and stared wide-eyed at the dollar bill in utter disbelief: the numbers that the man shouted out corresponded EXACTLY with the serial numbers of the note! Outside of the tent, there was quite a bit of carnival noise, but inside the tent, you could hear a pin drop. The boy for once in his life, was totally speechless - his facial expressions betrayed his total amazement and shock at what had just happened.
For once in his life, the lad was beaten by a huckster. He just kept staring at that bill in wonder. His buddies, a minute ago so raucous and talkative, suddenly now fell silent, and just stood there, staring at the number on the note in their friend's hand.
They went outside and continued with the carnival - playing games and taking in the sights, and then they went home. However, Charlie never did spend that dollar, and he kept it among his souvenirs and personal belongings until the day he died.
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And this was the story that Charlie later told to his beloved 25-year-old grandson, nearly SIXTY YEARS later. Every detail came back clearly, as if it had been only yesterday.
"You know, " Charlie commented, after telling this strange story, "I never believed in fortune tellers or psychics. It's all the bunk! But to this day I never could explain how that man told me those numbers!"
"Before you were born," he continued, "just as a joke, one day I went in to see a fortune-teller. She told me quite a bit that was true about my life and so forth, but she also told me that I had three children - two girls and a little boy. I told her that she was sadly mistaken, that I had but two girls."
"All the same," she said as I was leaving, "All the same... I see a little boy." His eyes misted up as he told me this. "Now I understand," he finished: "the little boy she saw... was YOU!"
NOTE: The above story is true; I relate it just as my grandfather told it to me so many years ago.
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