Friday Night Feast

It’s Friday 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.

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.

By Lagniappe Les

Memories of Desire – The Record Truck

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.”

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.

“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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.”