A Place Called Desire

"the community that care forgot"

  • Memories
    • Stepping Into Easter
    • The Christmas Fruitcake
    • A Street Called Desire
    • Summer Fun: An Essay for A Place Called Desire
    • Friday Night Feast
    • Memories of Desire – The Record Truck
    • The Ladies’ Tammany Social & Aid Club
    • DESIRE PROUD – DESIRE STRONG
    • BEG, BORROW, BUT DON’T STEAL!
    • Food for Thought
  • Private Screening
  • Media
    • Interviews
      • NGS Conversation with Leonard Smith III
      • WYES-PBS
      • The African American Film Series
      • Discussing the film – A Place Called Desire
      • NPR Interview
      • The STORY Behind The STANDOFF
      • The 504
  • Outtakes
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By Winnie

A Street Called Desire and Other Names in My Neighborhood

As I have matured and traveled about, I pay attention to the names of streets. I like to learn, observe and actually absorb my surroundings. Part of that, for me, is learning the names of streets. Though convenient, the use of the GPS Global Positioning System tends to make the brain lazy. Consequently, I still study the names of streets. And in doing so, I have happily concluded that there are the same and similar names in many cities and other states. Courts, drives, driveways, parkways, and avenues within a neighborhood or metropolitan area have the same names. This is so fascinating to me. In the summer of 2022, while traveling in Paris with my middle son, Damion, and his family, I observed many names of streets, alleyways, neighborhoods, and subway stops. I wanted to learn as much as I could about this famous city. To my delight, but not surprisingly, there were many names with which I was pretty familiar. I’ve always known of the cultural and historical connection of Paris, France, and my home city, New Orleans. Seeing it with my own eyes was totally different.

A Street Called Desire and Other Names in My Neighborhood

I have always been in love with words and names. It became a pastime that was limitless and didn’t cost anything. This affection started many years ago, probably when I was learning to read. As my brothers, sisters, and I began walking to the grocery store, visiting our friends, and traveling outside the courtyard, it was a necessity. The layout and design of many of the courtyards were very similar, if not identical. To return home from a walk in the neighborhood or a bus ride outside our vast community, I had to learn to read and identify the street signs. Honestly, street sign reading became an obsession.

The street names in the new development located on what was once the Desire Housing Development are appropriately named after people who poured their lives into the advancement and quality of life of the residents of the Desire area. I will not try to call any because I do not know many of them. To walk through those streets, however, you will be given a history of the people who poured out their lives for the progress of Desire. The most notable name in the area is actually one that involved the renaming of Louisa St. The name is that of a very deserving son of Desire, Johnny Jackson, Jr. Many of us witnessed as well as benefitted from his many contributions to the Desire Community, the city of New Orleans, and the entire state of Louisiana. I am proud to have been privy to the many. Mr. Jackson’s contributions and advancements to Desire and the many others.

The names of the previous streets were street names from the surrounding area that were just extended to the development. Fortunately, the street names are more relatable and traceable for the residents of the current development. We grew up reading names like Piety, Pleasure, Benefit, Abundance, Alvar, Higgins, Industry, Pauline, and Desire. These names only sometimes coincide with the life conditions of the residents after opportunities afforded by racial integration are revealed. I was shocked to see my home in one of the textbooks in my freshman sociology class at Tulane University. It was quite eye-opening. But as a deep-thinking teenager, I had begun to think of them as misnomers. I tried to reconcile them with the situations many of us lived in. Some days became more difficult than others.

Desire community

My mother lived at 3411 Pleasure St., apartment B. And, as a child, I enjoyed the pleasures of Desire: pralines, frozen cups, constant camaraderie, and neighbors who loved me like family. Often, I would walk to the project office to pay our rent. This was a learning experience for me because I learned without being directly taught that my mother’s rent was based on her income. Everyone didn’t pay the same to live in a three-bedroom apartment. In the course of this transaction, I encountered the residents of Benefit St. I started connecting the dots, so to speak. The street was Benefit, so some benefits and advantages had to be. I began to realize the benefits of being raised in a community with large numbers of people in such close proximity. The people themselves possessed such gifts and talents. There were resources one might have needed to have had within reach had there not been so many human capabilities. Truly, we had the Benefit of a loving, nurturing neighborhood with countless examples of positive role models.

Abundance was one of the streets in our development. I liked it so much for many reasons. Because I lived in what was considered the back of Desire, the street, Abundance, always intrigued me. I only walked past it when the bus was delayed. It was about a mile walk from my house. During the walk, I encountered many activities and people with whom I would only interact occasionally. It was like traveling to another city. My aunt and cousins lived on Alvar St., near Abundance. That was another source of intrigue for me. Abundance St. was a section that appeared to accommodate large families with four-bedroom apartments. There was certainly an abundance of children in that area. It was filled with so much activity, endless energy, and loud sounds. Yes, Abundance, it certainly was!

The names of our streets represented a number of different things to us. After many years, it became apparent that there were some systemic issues in the area that the street names defied. But, honestly, they embodied the very essence of the heart of the community in which I lived. Years of neglect changed the narrative for some. But the meaning of the word, Desire, conjures up the thoughts, perspectives, ambitions, and visions of the residents of the entire Desire community. Their Desire to achieve led to actions that resonated around the world. I will never forget my life in Desire and the experiences that the streets of Pleasure, Benefit, Abundance, Piety, and Desire taught me.

Winnifred Magee

Filed Under: Articles, Desire Housing Project, Streets Tagged With: Desire Community Street Names, streets

By Lagniappe Les

Friday Night Feast

It’s Friday Night and I peeped inside of my refrigerator and thought how my Dad would create the best meals. Determined not to spend money, I decided to go old school and made something I haven’t had in years to satisfy my hunger. A bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich aka as the All-American BLT, complete with chips. As I sat and savored each bite, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to Friday’s meals of years gone by.

My Dad, affectionately known as Smitty to us, was the primary cook in our family and did a wonderful job at it. We were not eating an abundance of fast food on his watch. I guess by the time Friday came, he was tired and sought the quickest meals to fill our bellies. He looked to his version of fast food to get us through Friday nights. It differed from what most people are accustomed to now. It was simply a meal prepared quickly from items found in the refrigerator. It was a treat to venture to Gentilly for take out at an actual fast food restaurant.

Friday Night Feast

meat pack

Fridays meant either a homemade hamburger, you know the smashed meatball type, or his version of the now popular charcuterie board. Yep, my Dad was creating these back in the 70’s. Stopping in at Schwegmann’s in Gentilly before venturing home, he would shop for everything he needed. Lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, cheeses, Blue Plate Mayo (I hated mayo back then because I knew it contained eggs), yellow mustard, fresh bread, and a large loaf of Schwegmann’s fresh bread. To satisfy the meat portion of his platter, Oscar Mayer’s Variety Pak was the go to. Arriving at the table early, allowed you to get the best choice of meat. The least favored slices took on a sad appearance as they were left uneaten.  Smitty and his Friday Nite “Fast Food” Feasts never sent anyone to bed hungry.

Friday night Smitty treat

Filed Under: Memories, Articles Tagged With: Friday night feast, Home

By Lagniappe Les

Memories of Desire – The Record Truck

memories of desire

Summertime in Desire. The memories are many of the three months we were out of school and enjoying each day. We were fortunate to live in a home that was always filled with different genres of music. From my Dad’s love of Jazz (one of his favorites was Count Basie) to my Mom’s obsession with keeping up with the “Jet” Magazine’s Soul Brothers Top 20 List or the songs she heard on WBOK, my siblings and I were all up on the music of the times. One way Mom acquired her collection of top 45s was from the record trucks that rode through the streets of Desire.

Dad had to punch the clock before the sun rose, so Mom rode the public transportation bus to work each morning. Because she was not a quiet dresser, we would be involved in her preparation to leave the house. Checking to make sure her outfit was on point, waking one of us or all of us to get a second opinion, grabbing an umbrella if it looked like rain or for the heat if the bus was off schedule, making sure she had a bus token in hand and “NOOOO, please don’t turn off the fan!” Before central air conditioners in homes, gigantic Reed fans were most popular in the 50s and 60’s across the south. It blew comfortable, cool air at night and circulated hot air during the day. We counted our blessings that we had one to get us through the hot months of New Orleans’ summers, even if it was primarily used to get us through the steamy nights. When you heard the fan motor winding down, you knew it was time to start the date, or if you chose to lay in bed a little longer, it was understood that there was a chance of drowning in your sweat. Before she made it to the front door to exit, we were told what was expected of us that day. From hanging clothes on the clothesline, making sure that we checked the mailbox, then calling her at work to relay what had been delivered that day, to dropping shoes off at the Holmes’ Shoe Repair across the tracks, we were kept busy. One recurring chore on that list was “if the record truck passes before I make it home, check to see if he has…there’s money in the can.”

sons_of_desire

The waiting game began as the clock ticked, and finally, we could hear the sounds of Motown, Stax, Tamla, Atlanta, and Columbia, to name a few, in the distance. We would then make our way to the front porch to ensure we didn’t miss the purchase. Back in the day, Eddie 3 Way and Walt Boatner record trucks ruled the streets of Desire. Inching at a slow rate of speed (I can’t imagine today someone riding our pot-holed city streets in an open van sitting on a stool spinning 45s) with no skipped beats blaring from the speakers. 

Memories of Desire – 45s

“RECORD MAN!” “RECORD TRUCK!” “STOP!” Folks would line up, some with paper notes containing the 45s they wanted to purchase. Others were prepared to hum instrumentals. Then some would give a sampling of the vocals of a song they did not know the name of. Some that were unsure of themselves vocally would speak the lyrics. A sample was played, and the purchase was made. There was a sense of pride as you walked away with the coveted 45, and sometimes there was a bit of envy as that song could be heard from your home throughout the neighborhood. It was all fun because today was your day, and tomorrow would be someone else’s.  

top 45s

Later in the day, Mom would return from work, and when that 45 was handed over to her, we knew our evening would be filled with music. It was great when it was a 45 that was a 2-sided hit. Sides A & B would be alternated, as in the photo (Soul Brothers Top 20 List of January 29, 1970, courtesy of “JET Magazine”), “Going in Circles” by the Friends of Distinction was #1. The flip side was “Grazing in the Grass,” a hit that reminds me of my childhood summers and the record truck. 

Our home had an RCA High Fidelity Record Player with a record changer, so the new purchase was usually added to the stack of other recently purchased 45s with a few oldies but goodies added for good measure. Assignment completed. Mom was happy, and so were we. 

Leslie Smith Everage

#APLACECALLEDDESIRE

 

Filed Under: Articles, History, Stories Tagged With: record trucks in desire, summertime in desire, vendors in desire

By Lagniappe Les

The Ladies’ Tammany Social & Aid Club

Fourth Sunday of January

“Be it known, that on this sixth day of March, 1946…the name and title of said corporation shall be ‘THE LADIES’ TAMMANY SOCIAL AND AID CLUB.” From the Charter, Constitution and By-Laws as stated on page 1.

Tammany Social
Momma’s Charter, Constitution, and By-Laws of The Ladies’ Tammany Social & Aid Club, Member’s Badge, and Memorial from the Times-Picayune April 1991.

Social Aid & Pleasure Clubs are an integral slice of African-American culture in New Orleans. These organizations were created for fellowship and for financial support to bury properly the free people of color and the deceased African slaves. Many currently know of the pleasure clubs “coming out” on any given Sunday from October to March. I “came out” with many elderly women, including Lettie “Momma” Jones Boseman, my grandmother, every fourth Sunday in January for over 30 years of my life. The Ladies’ of Tammany Social and Aid Club allowed me to enter into this culture each year through the anniversary service. Unlike the colorful outfits and umbrellas of the traditional second line members, the tools of trade for the Ladies’ of Tammany were bibles, their Sunday best attire, and hats, or crowns as I love to call them. Instead of celebrating in the streets of New Orleans, they praised God from the pews of churches throughout the city. Article XII-Section 2 states,” two years Baptist, third-year Methodist, and the same Church not under four years. Failing to attend each member shall be fine One Dollar ($1.00).” Our fourth Sunday in January took us all over the city to places of worship in our Community of Desire to far on the other side of town. As a youngster, I considered myself Catholic, Baptist, and Methodist because of these anniversary services and understood that God was the common denominator.

The Ladies Tammany Social & Aid Club

I relished that I got to spend the entire Sunday with Momma alone. Alone, that is, with a hundred or so other elderly ladies in their church finery. I inherited this date with Momma from my older cousin Iris after she became high school age. Before Iris, my youngest aunt Louvenia (Beanie) would be Momma’s companion. I was conveniently located around the corner, so I was summoned into duty. My oldest male cousin, Kenneth, began as our driver, and in later years, Devance III would take on the chauffeur job. It’s funny to think back at how Momma would give a time to pick us up because there was no guarantee the church office would be accessible to make a telephone call for a pickup. It’s incredible how she could calculate how long she believed the service would last by the minister that would be presiding. As I aged, married, and began driving, Momma would open her purse, which was always filled with peppermints for the service. She would hand me $2.00 to gas up the Chevette to get us to and from church. She, of course, insisted that I take it. I always assured her I would stop on my way home to purchase the gas. Back then, it was still ridiculous to ask for $2.00 worth of gas to fill up a car, even a compact Chevrolet Chevette. She was unaware of it, but I would just put the $2.00 in the collection when the “sisters” passed the basket around.

I was always so proud of Momma because she was such a cool servant of God during service. The preacher preached, the choir singing, and as the other members were falling out in the pews, somehow Momma never did. If she “got the spirit,” she was great knowing how to hold on to it. If you did not get anything out of the service spiritually to warm your soul, the snacks in the church’s kitchen surely warmed your stomach. I would sit in church wondering what goodies the old ladies of the refreshment committee were preparing. I would feel guilty as my thoughts left the minister’s preaching and landed in the kitchen. The aroma usually would find its way into the church, and it was challenging to stay focused. The pound cakes were always fantastic, and Momma always managed to sneak a piece into her pocketbook for later. It amazed me how fast she could wrap a piece of cake and slip it into her purse without anyone noticing.

Sunday Morning
Debra Smith and Tiffany Smith Williams visit Momma after attending church service at St. Philip the Apostle. On our way to the Ladies’ of Tammany Anniversary Service. Fourth Sunday of January 1981.

At the end of each fourth Sunday of January, Momma would always thank me and would speak of the following year’s anniversary service. I guess it was her way of informing me not to make any plans for that day. “If I am still around” was her favorite line. The first year she became ill, maybe two years before her death at the beautiful age of 87, was the first time we had missed Tammany. I am sure her membership spanned over 50 years, maybe more. The first, fourth Sunday of January, after she went on to glory, reality hit, and of course, that was the hardest one. This Sunday and quality time with my beloved grandmother had become routine for me for so many years. Lettie “Momma” Jones Boseman was a loyal and faithful member until her death. Momma and The Ladies” Auxiliary of Tammany and the fourth Sunday of January will live in my memory and heart forever.

#APLACECALLEDDESIRE

THE LADIES’ TAMMANY SOCIAL AND AID CLUB

Filed Under: Articles, Churches, History, Stories, Worship Tagged With: Tammany social & aid club

By Leonard

Articles and Reviews About A Place Called Desire

A Place Called Desire (Louisiana Feature)

“Essential viewing for anyone interested in New Orleans’ cultural history and in Black struggle in the city and America. I can’t recommend this movie enough.”

Antigravity Magazine

The New Orleans Film Fest presents outdoor screenings

The Gambit 

Stepping Out

WYES Stepping Out November 13, 2020

Second week of 2020 New Orleans Film Festival features documentary on ‘Place Called Desire’

“There’s no understating its value when it comes to collecting previously untold stories, which together add a new, personal layer — one previously unknown and/or misunderstood by many New Orleanians — to the city’s 20th-century history.”

Filmmaker Who Lost Home During Katrina Shares His Documentary Journey

Desktop-Documentaries.com

In ‘A Place Called Desire,’ Leonard Smith III captures New Orleans history

TheDrumNewspaper.info

garlandjournal.com

louisianaweekly.com

dallasweekly.com

New Orleans 2020: Documentary Overview

whatnottodoc.com

The True Story of Desire

Acadianalifestyle.com

 

Filed Under: Articles, Reviews Tagged With: Articles, Reviews

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