When the calendar page flips over to a new year – especially as a new decade begins, as is the case in 2010 - it’s a time for serious reflection.  Frankly, however, I have not been real pleased with my reflection lately; that’s the price one pays for being a life-long, committed omnivore.  But rather than making an effort to change and clean up my dietary act and exercise routine this year, I have instead resolved, upon reflection, to militantly resist change, unless that involves a lot of effort. 

            What, after all, is wrong with the way things are?  Will no one speak up for inertia?  Why is it in America that it’s always about the next new thing?  I finally came to understand recently what tweeting and twittering are, and now I find out that they’re on the way out.  Three thousand years for civilization to get from parchment to what seems to be the pinnacle of instant messaging, and poof … the next new thing is gone in the blink of an eye.  The world is whizzing past me like I’m a Saints cornerback. 

            I was thinking about this the other day after someone, knowing my interest in history, asked me if I knew about this great new book he had discovered called “Rising Tide.”  Well, that’s about like asking kids if they know about Harry Potter.   Of course, I knew about it and had read it several times.  It is required reading for anyone interested in the natural and cultural forces that have affected the lower Mississippi Valley, and indeed the whole country, over the past century.  Written by John M. Barry and first published in 1997, the book outlines in detailed engineering and sociological terms events leading up to, and following, the great Mississippi River flood of 1927.  It’s just a great, interesting work, and if you have not read it, I would certainly recommend it. 

            At any rate, the innocent inquiry prompted me to read the book again, and through my process of random, non linear reasoning, somehow brought me to the subject of historical preservation.   The vehicle for this circuitous journey is an old steamer named the Mamie S. Barrett.    

            Built in 1921, this venerable old sternwheeler was about 147 feet long and 30 feet wide and was designed both to carry cargo and passengers, and to push barges.  However, in 1926 it was bought by the U.S. Corps of Engineers to use in its river survey work.   The Corps changed its name to the U.S. Penniman in 1935 and kept it in service until 1947, when it was decommissioned and sold. 

            Over the next 50 or so years, a succession of private owners operated it as a yacht club cruise vessel and clubhouse, and as a restaurant and showboat.  It also served as a breakwater, and was cannibalized for parts for various other purposes.  Other owners had plans to use it as a casino and as a museum and civic attraction.   During this period, it also underwent another name change to the Piaza, before the Mamie S. Barrett name was restored in 1981.  Time and maintenance expense began to take a heavy toll on the Mamie, however, and prospects for operating it as a profitable venture faded, leaving its fate to a few dedicated preservationists.  This is when I came to learn of its sad fate. 

            When I was the Executive Director of the Lake Pontchartrain Basin Maritime Museum, a local group came to me in 2002 with a proposal to restore the vessel and move it to Madisonville.  As I recall, two of the individuals involved were Captain Antrainer of Covington, who was a marine surveyor, and Les Calvin, a historian from Abita Springs.  

            At the time, the Mamie was stranded high and dry on what appears to have been an old oxbow of the Mississippi River ten or so miles southwest of Natchez in Deer Park, Louisiana.  It had been intentionally grounded there during a flood in 1993.  A 2001 marine survey didn’t paint a pretty picture  of this former river queen – paint peeling, wood rotten, windows broken, and a fairly large tree had already grown up between the stern wheel and the hull.  However, she was apparently still seaworthy and a trip to Madisonville for restoration was not physically out of the question.  Unfortunately, it was financially out of the question – at least for the Maritime Museum.  I think the estimated cost of the project was well over a million dollars, which was probably 10 – 15 times more than the annual amount available for exhibits. 

            This was a real shame, because this wonderful relic of the past deserved to be saved.  Although she was operated by the Corps during the great 1927 flood, she was primarily used in the upper reaches of the Mississippi and probably did not play a great role in local events.  However, it’s possible that she was involved.  Herbert Hoover was Secretary of Commerce in 1927, and he parlayed his perceived competent handling of the flood (“You did a heck of a job, Herbie”) into a monumentally failed presidency.  He was all over the river during the emergency, and the Mamie had a history of being used for transporting VIPs.  In 1942, a special elevator and bathtub were installed on her to accommodate President Franklin Roosevelt’s handicap during a Mississippi River inspection trip he made that year.  These were still on the vessel when the 2001 marine survey was made.  If for no other reason, it would seem that these artifacts would give the Mamie significant historical significance.  I don’t know what her status is now, but I hope she found a home for troubled steamers. 

            Regrettably, this is not an isolated incidence of a potential or actual loss of part of our heritage.  One need only look at the state of our Lake Pontchartrain lighthouses.  Only the Tchefuncte light tower and keeper’s cottage are in reasonably recognizable condition now, but millions are needed to completely restore the station and make it easily accessible to the public.  The iconic New Canal Light at West End was devastated by Katrina, and the Lake Pontchartrain Basin Foundation is trying to raise almost a million dollars to restore it.  The West Rigolets Lighthouse is gone, destroyed completely by Katrina – we have lost our chance to save this one.  At last report, the remaining light tower of the Pass Manchac Lighthouse was crumbling into the lake despite decades-long rescue and restoration efforts. 

            Almost everyone would say that these and other structures and artifacts should be saved, but the problem is that this frequently requires a lot of commitment and a lot of money … “it ain’t easy and it ain’t cheap.”   It’s heartening to see efforts like those being made in Mandeville to save an 1850s vintage cottage damaged by hurricanes, but this is the exception rather than the rule.  Most communities have a tough time spending limited resources on restoration rather than current needs.  That’s why the job often falls to committed volunteer groups of interested citizens. 

            It’s a job that needs to be done.  While it’s true that nothing lasts forever, it seems that some things ought to be given the opportunity to last a little longer.   So if you run across something that looks old, and needs restoration and TLC, do what you can … it might be me.