Many of you – even those who are extremely familiar with Old Mandeville – are probably unaware of the insidious plot by printers and office supply companies to periodically change the names of streets in this historic old area. This ploy, which effectively forces all elements of local commerce to completely replace their letterhead stationery and business cards every few years, has for too long gone unreported in the press. With this issue of the Conifer, this shameful conspiracy of silence ends. Let others focus on corruption, financial crises, pandemics, threats to national security, yada, yada, yada – we are taking the battle for truth to the streets.
This perhaps disjointed thought came to me a few weeks back as I was listening to extremely interesting and educational talks given by Sally Reeves and Robin Perkins in connection with the celebration of the 175th anniversary of Bernard Marigny’s land auction in 1834. While Mandeville was not incorporated officially until 1840, Marigny’s subdivision and sale of lots really marked the area’s birth as a successful seaside community. Sally and Robin, who are both highly trained, experienced, widely respected archivists and historians, covered a broad spectrum of topics about Mandeville, the town, and Marigny, the man, in their presentations. Much of this was either new to many in their audiences or corrected some long and broadly held misconceptions about our local history.
The inspiration for this article came from comments by Robin about Marigny’s naming of the streets in his two great developments; the Faubourg Marigny in New Orleans, and Mandeville. She hypothesized that his clearly different naming philosophies might indicate a changing temperament and perspective on life as Marigny matured.
Marigny developed Faubourg Marigny when he was in his early 20s. Although he proved to be a canny, successful businessman and real estate promoter for one so young, traces of the wild teenager who gambled and partied in Europe still remained. The names he gave streets were whimsical, satirical, poetic, and maybe a little disrespectful of authority and the accepted standards of the day. As wonderfully documented in John Chase’s classic book, “Frenchmen, Desire, Good Children … and Other Streets of New Orleans!,” many of Marigny’s original street names have changed (the office supply mob again?) Desire, Frenchmen, and Champs Elyseés (Elysian Fields) stayed more or less the same, but Good Children became St. Claude, Love became Rampart, Craps became Burgundy, Great Men became Dauphine, Bagatelle became Pauger, and Poets became St. Roch.
When Marigny developed Mandeville he was approaching 50, having led a busy life: as a developer; as a constitutional convention delegate for Louisiana, a New Orleans city official, and a state representative and senator; and as a patriot during the War of 1812. He was a pillar of the community, knew everyone of importance, and was involved in everything.
His street names in Mandeville reflected this rich life experience and the people he knew and respected. Robert Livingston was a key figure in the Louisiana Purchase. James Madison and James Monroe were presidents during the period as Louisiana evolved from a territory to statehood. William C. C. Claiborne was our first governor, and his daughter Sophronie married Marigny’s son Jean Bernard Xavier, who was called Mandeville. Jacque Villeré was the second governor of Louisiana and the first Creole to hold this office.
Marigny’s involvement in the War of 1812 inspired the naming of important streets in Old Mandeville. The great hero of the Battle of New Orleans, Andrew Jackson, had one of only two streets allocated a right-of-way of 100 feet (French feet); Marigny named the other broad street after himself. All of the other streets are 50 feet wide, except Lakeshore Drive, which is 60 feet.
Generals William Carroll and John R. Coffee led the Tennessee volunteers who stood with Jackson in Chalmette. John Adair (whose name appeared misspelled on street signs as Adeer for many years) commanded the Kentucky riflemen during the battle. The cannons of the colorful Jean Lafitte and his men played a key role in decimating the British in their futile attacks on the American lines. Lafitte was not trusted by Govenor Claiborne and other Louisiana leaders of the time, and it was reportedly Marigny who convinced General Jackson of Lafitte’s loyalty and value.
Marigny’s reasons for some of the other names he chose are a little less clear. General Richard Montgomery was an American hero killed in the Battle of Quebec during the Revolutionary War. Other than his marriage to Robert Livingston’s sister, there seems little connection to Marigny or Louisiana. General James Wilkinson played a role in Louisiana territorial affairs, but he was a very controversial character. He was forced to resign from the military twice and was a secret agent of Spain while he served as an American general. He was court-martialed, but acquitted, for his involvement in a plot with Aaron Burr. Nonetheless, he must have been Marigny’s kind of guy.
Some of the names now found in the old town obviously came long after Marigny’s time. General Pershing and Woodrow, two short streets on either side of Villere, would seem to be tributes to World War I leaders.
Marigny reserved most of his adulation for his personal heroes as a younger man. He cherished his French heritage, and was particularly proud of the great military leaders of the Napoleonic era. Many of these were Marshalls of France. Designation as a “Marshall,” however, meant more than promotion to a general officer rank. It meant that the individual had distinguished himself with valor in battle; he was a true leader of men by example. Further, some of Marigny’s heroes were Marshalls General, an even more exalted status, which very few reached.
Bertrand Clausel, Étienne McDonald, Gabriel Molitor, and André Massena were all Marshalls. Nicholas Soult was a Marshall General. Jean Kléber, Maximilien Foy, Jean Lamarque, Pierre Cambronne, Claude Dupré, Joseph Jean Baptiste Albert and Auguste Rapatel were decorated generals and leaders. Jean Colbert and Francois Louvois were government leaders from an earlier era who had played a great role in making the French a military power. Major General John Hutchinson was also a hero of the Napoleonic Wars in Egypt, but from Marigny’s perspective, it would seem that he was fighting on the wrong side (British). Yet, we have a street named after him. We also have a streets named Atalin and Lambert, which sound French and generalish, but I’ve found nothing about them yet. If anyone has information adding to, disputing, or confirming this information, I would love to hear from you.
There is one street name missing from the above list, and it should be there. Marigny certainly intended there to be a street named after Étienne Gerard … and for a time there was. Gerard was a great Marshall of France, Minister of War in 1830, and later president of the French parliament. Marigny, who visited France and hobnobbed with its leaders frequently during the early 1800s, would likely have known and respected this important individual.
The street that Marigny named after him, however, now bears a sign that says “Girod.” Several years ago, someone apparently felt that “Gerard” was just another misspelled name, and that the street obviously was supposed to be named after Nicholas Girod. Girod would have been a worthy recipient of the honor as he was Mayor of New Orleans during the War of 1812 and played an active role in local government before that. However, Girod had generally disappeared from the public eye by the time Marigny named his streets in the 1830s. Also, records from the New Orleans Notarial Archives consistently show the street name as Gerard throughout the 19th Century.
So, should we cave in to the office supply cartel and change the name back, or leave it as it is? It’s a tough decision, but it’s impotent that we due the write thing!