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Topics in History
Fourth
of July in Abbeville—1889 and 1898
By Kenneth A. Dupuy
(Excerpted from longer works by the author)
Fourth
of July 1889
. . . . The morning of July 4, 1889, was somehow
different from the days just before it. Oh, it was hot; the temperature was
probably in the mid-seventies as it is on our own July mornings, but it was less
noticeable on this day. Naturally the windows were wide open to entice whatever
cool breeze was in the neighborhood to come inside. On this particular morning,
an anticipation of something thrilling could be felt in the air. It was
something the blue sky, unmarred by the usual clouds, seemed to reflect. Today
was the day of the Parade! Even the crickets, and frogs were more melodious,
and less aggravating. The roosters, horses, cows and the other farm
animals—Abbeville had its share of these animals at the time—added their bit to
the commotion and to the excitement.
Children did their chores with less resistance.
Even the odious task of emptying the chamber pot, or pot de chambre as it
was called in my day, wasn't so bad on this special day. The women arose
earlier than usual, knowing that the children would awaken soon in a state of
excitement and agitation. Breakfast had to be fixed, and there was much else to
do also. The women had to see to it that the clothes were clean and ironed;
ironing involved the heating of a heavy iron on the stove—no electricity,
remember. The dirt and grime of the morning's play and work had to be removed
from everyone before the families left for the parade.
The men, unencumbered by domestic chores, had
their own tasks to perform. The razor strops emitted more zing this morning as
the men sharpened their razors. The trimming of beards and mustaches was a
major task; these beards, etc. had to look perfect, especially those of the men
who would be marching in today's parade. The men also had to shine the reins
and other apparatuses that would be used to hook up the horses to the vehicles
later that day.
Nothing could go wrong on this day. At least
that's what everyone must have thought that morning. However, such was not to
be. Most of the preparations for the parade were made before the disheartening
afternoon showers came. It was probably what we call a popcorn shower; that day
the Abbevillians probably had a few other choice words for it. The heavy rains
started around 2:30 p.m. All that
could be done was to wait for them to stop. I wonder where the crowds went for
refuge. I suppose that the merchants allowed everyone to come inside their
stores, hoping that a few sales would be made, and that such a public service
would be good for business. The stores probably closed for the parade, however.
At last, and not a minute too soon for the antsy
children, the rain dribbled to a stop. The firemen rushed to their "truck
houses" to make final preparations, and the people gathered on the wooden
sidewalks, everyone thinking: "Let's get this show on the road." Alas, the
roads were muddy!
Finally, after a considerable delay, the parade
began at 4:30 p.m. It was led by the U.S. Flag, which surely caused a
perceptible hush and stillness in the crowd as it swept past solemnly. The
response of the crowds must have been opposite to those of the loud waves made
at sporting events today. Men all wore hats at the time; these hats were surely
removed and held to the men's chests as a show of reverence to our flag as it
passed by. Next, J. J. Abadie, the parade marshal, "and his aide" waved to the
crowds as they passed by. Then came what was surely the most anticipated unit
of the parade—the Iberia Artillery Band. Surely they didn't play cannons as in
the "1812 Overture"! That would have been memorable, to say the least.
Whatever musical instruments were played, the music was surely of a patriotic
nature, something that aroused feelings of pride and a sense of well being along
the parade route.
The first of our two volunteer firefighting
units was next. Thirty-four members of the Hook and Ladder Fire Company, which
had been founded in 1882, came by "on the ropes," that is to say, they were
pulling their "truck." It was not horse-drawn then, nor, I think, was it drawn
by horses when it was brought to fires. Anyway, the truck was decorated, and on
the ladder atop this vehicle were six "handsome misses," including Myrtle
Sokoloski and Effie Labit. Effie was born in 1881, and I believe that Myrtle
was born about the same time. The firemen were dressed in red shirts, and black
belts and caps. The color of the pants wasn't given. This uniform must have
given the firemen a pleasing and professional appearance that probably provided
a sense of security to those who waved at these firemen as they paraded down the
streets.
Behind this first group of firefighters came the
Protector Fire Co. with twenty-two men pulling their "pretty little Engine."
It, too, was festively decorated for the occasion. On board the engine rode
Misses Daisy Feray and Anita Leotaud. Anita was born in January 1885,
which puts her at four and a half years of age for this parade. A year and a
half after this parade, Anita would be involved in another major event—the
photographing of the new courthouse in January 1891, just days before it was
first occupied for use. She and her older sister Lily are said to be the
two little girls who are standing in the main entrance in that photograph.
[Click the thumbnail below to enlarge.]

[Photo courtesy of Mrs. Lorraine Hebert.]
The Protector company had organized only
recently, so this was their first parade. Their uniforms consisted of
white shirts, and black pants, hats and belts.
The next group to come down the street was the
French Benevolent Society. Not having anything to throw out, they probably
passed out at least some bons mots to the crowds. These Frenchmen were
followed by the Junior Cavalry. It is likely that some of the members of this
organization rode small, skittish horses, while others rode slow, sedate ones.
No matter what they rode, these junior riders must have beamed in the limelight
cast upon them at this moment.
Finally, "civilians in carriages" were the last
to come down the muddy streets. I take "civilians" to mean that they didn't
belong to any of the other groups in this parade. Many of our business and
professional men and their wives must have been among these "civilians."
Naturally they were in suits and long dresses as was the custom, so we can
imagine how hot they must have been on this July afternoon. At least there was
no dust.
In fact, it was so hot that "a perfect steam was
rising from the damp earth." Despite this heat and humidity, "the boys marched
steadily along the route, through the mud and water, sweating like wood choppers
in August." Many were exhausted. R. C. Smedes narrowly escaped heatstroke. He
had to be carried to a shady spot under the gallery of Ulysse Abadie's saloon,
where he was tended to by "kind hands." After he had recovered somewhat,
Smedes was brought to his home.
Before continuing on with the festivities, let's
stop a moment with Smedes as he is being cared for outside of Mr. Abadie's
saloon. Robert C. Smedes was admitted to the bar, that is he became a lawyer,
in 1877. I trust I clarified what I was saying here so as not to be confusing,
since he's in front of the saloon as we speak. By January 1878, he was
practicing law in Abbeville. This was shortly before Elijah Ewing's funeral
which we attended only recently. Also in 1878, Mr. Smedes was hired as the
corporation attorney at $50 a year. He continued in this role through 1881. In
1882, he went from being the town's attorney to being Abbeville's mayor. Later
that year, Smedes was the defense attorney in a murder trial; his client was
acquitted.
Smedes was reelected mayor in 1883. In 1884, he
switched roles once more. This time he became an alderman. Later that year he
resigned this position because he had moved out of town. In 1889—the year of
this parade—Smedes had become District Attorney. Approximately one year later,
Robert C. Smedes died of typhoid fever. Almost ten years later, in 1898, his
remains were removed from the Catholic Cemetery and were taken to the burial
ground of the Cade family near Royville (Youngsville). A few months later, his
son Bernard died, also of typhoid fever.
And so ladies and gentlemen, here before us is
not just another face in the crowd. No, R. C. Smedes had been our mayor and
today, July 4, 1889, he is our District Attorney. Sadly we know, although he
doesn't, that this is to be his final Fourth of July.
Well, they are taking him to his home, so let's
get back to the celebration. Across the street from here—we're at the corner of
Port (Père Mégret) and newly-named Washington streets where Piazza Office Supply
is located in 1996—the people have gathered on Magdalen Square. It is now 5
p.m. and the parade is over. The
apparatuses of the two fine fire companies are parked on both sides of that fire
well, the one with an opening so large that a calf could fall in, on Magdalen
Square. Thank goodness for the wooden covering.
W. A. White, who was selected as the "orator of
the day," is about to speak Walter A. White's major contribution to Abbeville,
as far as I know, would occur in 1900. At that time he "had built...a bridge
16 feet wide and 150 feet long," over Coulee Valcourt "at the extension of Main
Street." By doing so, W. A. White put the lots of his addition in a direct
connection to the town of Abbeville.
According to a descendant of Judge W. W.
Edwards, White successfully outbid Edwards for "the peninsula lying between the
bayou (Vermilion) and Coulee Valcourt," or what is now known as the White
addition. This fierce bidding war came about in 1878 when the Blanchet estate
went on the auction block. I was informed recently that Mr. White was
victorious in the bidding only because he had $5 or $10 more in his pockets than
did Edwards. Walter A. White was a local attorney, as was Edwards.
So, let's listen to his excellent speech on
Magdalen Square. In general, we will hear him give liberal praise to these two
fire companies for their "unselfish devotion ... on behalf of the public
welfare." He went on to say that even without pay these volunteer firemen "have
devoted yourselves ... to the preservation of life and property from the
devouring elements of fire and flame, and I wish you prosperity and success."
White cautioned these two firefighting companies
not to let their feelings of rivalry come between them. He urged them to give
one another a hand, adding, in a humorous vein, that the council had made the
town large enough for both of them.
If we listen well, we can hear the laughter, and
the generous applause this speech must have aroused. Remember, it was all or
mostly men in the audience, so there may have been a few curse words buzzing
through the audience like playful insects, now here, now over there.
That night, the day's celebrations were capped
off at French Hall where "Ten Nights in a Barroom" was performed before an
appreciative audience. Imagine how hot it must have been for the actors and
their audience. Since electricity would not arrive in Abbeville for another
thirteen
years, there was no air-conditioning, not even any fans—and it was the Fourth of
July!

Fourth of July 1898
. . . . Nine years later, the Fourth of
July celebration was even grander. In 1898, America went to war with Spain, and
Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders fought in Cuba. Preceding the celebration
on Magdalen Square, Mrs. G. A. Levy and Miss Georgie Labit, one of Postmaster J.
T. Labit's daughters, went around town collecting donations for a ten by twenty foot
silk U.S. flag and a hundred foot high flagstaff.
Let's remember that this flag's
design was something few of us have seen floating in the breeze. Oh, the red
and white stripes were there like they are today, but the stars—there were only
forty-five stars on it. The flag of forty-five stars became official on July 4, 1896, according
to The Stars and Stripes. And how it must have stood out, this ten by
twenty
foot flag waving ninety feet above Magdalen Square. Ten feet of the
hundred foot pole
had been buried in the ground.
Ninety feet, in the abstract, and without
anything to compare it to, doesn't seem so high. However, when it stood in
the square, it was one of the highest things in our little town. There was
no Audrey Hotel, which is now our City Hall. This building in only
seventy-six feet
high. So, the pole would have stood fourteen feet higher than our present City
Hall. I believe that the courthouse that was built in 1890 was the tallest
structure at that time. This pole in the square was probably higher than
that imposing building. Consequently, this flag must have been visible
from all parts of town. Remember, the trees that are so tall and that
block so much of the sky today all over town were mostly quite short in 1898,
those that weren't still acorns then. I wonder if any other town in
Acadiana can boast of a similar community attraction in its history.
On July 4, 1898, about 2000 people swarmed over
the square. Miss Labit was chosen as sponsor and was given the enviable
duty of raising this glorious flag, slowly and solemnly, to the top of the pole.
As the flag was raised with pomp, the Abbeville Band played "Columbia." As
the crowd followed the flag on its upward journey, many individuals were
probably sorry that they were standing so close to the pole. These people
had to tilt their heads upward so awkwardly that the back of their necks began
to hurt. Others in the crowd who stood on the outer edge of the crowd had
the best vantage point. As they gazed skyward and listened to the band
playing....BOOM!!! There was "firing of cannon." Now no matter how
prepared one is, when a cannon is fired, the body jerks and the senses are
startled involuntarily. Many in the crowd must have been taken
unawares and were jolted by the explosion. Some infants and small children
probably cried in fear. Some older individuals gasped and turned
their attention from the flag, if only briefly.
After the flag reached the top of the pole,
ceremonies continued. The flag was then presented to Abbeville, through
Mayor J. R. Kitchell, by Hon. Minos T. Gordy, Jr. Mayor Kitchell accepted
it "in a speech," in which he promised that the flag would "remain floating over
the town until peace shall have been declared and freedom of Cuba shall have
been accomplished by American soldiers."
Let me digress once more, to name
some of the local citizens who were soldiers at the time—1898-1899. Charles Lampman was stationed in San Francisco in June 1898; in June 1898, he sent his
brother, Van, photographs showing huge guns being mounted for the defense of the
Pacific coast. By November 1898, Charles had been transferred to the
Philippines.
Vermilion Parish furnished three
"soldier boys" to the "Second Regiment, U.S. Volunteers (Hoods Immunes)." They
were Captain (H. M.) Pickard of Co. K.; Orderly Sergeant F. M. Leguenec; and
Private Fred Dupuy, who was in "Capt. Broussard's Company." I don't know who
this Broussard was. Anyway, this regiment was reported to be sailing back from
Cuba in June 1899. Did these local servicemen fight with Teddy, or did they
have some other duty in Cuba?
Now, let's get back to the notable occurrence
on Magdalen Square on July 4, 1898. After other patriotic speeches were
given, various contests, including bicycle races and boxing matches were held.
With the exception of two businesses, all of the town's "business houses" were
closed for the occasion. Additionally, small flags waved throughout town,
like little echoes of the gigantic flag over the square. This day drew to
a close somewhat like our current Fourth of July celebrations—with a "grand
display of fireworks." However, unlike today, the finale was a bicycle parade,
but not just a procession of plain bicycles. No, these were decorated with
Chinese lanterns, the colorful tissue-thin outer papers lit from within by
candles. How bright and glorious these glowing bicycles must have shone in
the near total blackness of our town, which was then still four years away from
electrical street lighting. The lanterns must have given the riders an
eerie glow that made this parade over our dirt-surfaced streets a very special
treat for the crowds. These colorfully lit bicycles must have been as
thrilling to see as are our gargantuan, gaudy Mardi Gras floats today.
To sharpen the scene we get of this fantastic
celebration and the other events on the square, we must picture the people
dressed in their finest attire, with both men and women wearing hats. They
didn't have casual, leisure clothing, so the women and girls had on dresses that
covered them from their necks down to their shoes, and all the way down their
arms to their hands. The men wore suits and ties. The boys were
probably the least restricted in their clothing; they probably raced barefooted
through and around groups of people that formed according to social and/or
familial connections. How hot and sweaty everyone must have been on that
July-hot day!
Our huge flag flew somewhat longer
over the square than the war lasted. A year after it was first run up the pole,
someone cut the "halyard" on the pole and took the rope. E. W. Berdine, foreman
of the Meridional at the time, put a "noose" around the pole, fastened it
to himself and climbed cautiously to the top of the pole, ninety feet above Magdalen
Square. If anyone realized how high ninety feet was, it had to be Berdine. That
climb could not have been easy and must have taken awhile to accomplish. Once
at the top, Mr. Berdine passed the end of the rope through the pulley. After
the crowd applauded Mr. Berdine's rare achievement, the silk flag was gracing
the square and Abbeville once more. Way up there, Berdine, the hero of the
moment, must have had a most singular view of Abbeville, which had to have been
its own reward.

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