Chasing a Trail

This past Fall, I was given a plum assignment: Travel feature for the New York Times.
The story centers around the Creole migration, from New Orleans to Los Angeles. Black Creoles in Louisiana found infinitely better opportunity in California, and moved in droves for the better part of the last century.  I was to repeat the journey of the writer, which involved taking the Sunset Limited train.

This is by far the longest post I have written, but this trip had such an impact on me; I wanted to get it out.

Most travel assignments have a shot list of restaurants, shops, sights, etc. This story was a bit more challenging, in that most of the few places the writer mentions were closed, or don't exist any more. Finding shots to fit the words was not as straightforward. The story finally was printed in January, and overall I am pleased with the result, but my outtakes tell a different story.

The train from New Orleans to LA is a 48 hour straight shot. New Orleans Union Station is a time capsule.

The train chugs through downtown New Orleans, and quickly enters petrochemical swampland.

 

The first person I talked to enbodied the story perfectly. Born in New Orleans, Glenda Wright moved to Los Angeles in her 40s. She recently moved back to New Orleans to help her mother. Today, she was taking the train with her husband to visit friends in Lafayette. 

 

Through the daylight hours, I wandered the train, taking in the marshy scenery. It went from sugar cane fields, to waterways, to small towns, to Texas.

 

My rolling home was a spacious "family room" roomette, which spanned the width of the train. The bathrooms were always spotless in my car. They knew a media photographer was on board.  I heard the situation in next car was different.

The train only stopped briefly, a few times before dinner.

I made my way back to the observation lounge, which had a cafe in the bottom level and great wrap around views up top.

I chatted with other riders, and met Angelo Moore, of the band Fishbone, who was traveling with his daughter Cheyenne, who is a talented artist in her own right. She shared some artwork on her laptop.

 

I also met Robert McCaskill, from New Orleans, who was a Soul Train dancer, among other various talents. He chatted with Angelo, and it turns out Angelo danced on Soul Train as well. Small world train. Robert is far left and Angelo is far right. The man in the middle is Keith Matthews. I don't think he danced on Soul Train.

 

We passed into Texas as the sun went down.  I had a snack. A fancy cheese plate.

 

Meals in the dining car are by reservation only, and they seat you in the first available empty seat. You meet interesting people. On the second night, I met a woman who survived Katrina, only to move to Texas to have her house blow off of her one night during a tornado. She survived in a closet with her dogs. She was a very sturdy lady. And I don't mean fat. Unfortunately, I don't have her photo.

The food is actually quite good. Lightly breaded panneed chicken breast, brown onion gravy, chive mashed potatoes. 

There was a stop in San Antonio at midnight, and I had to get off the train to take photos in an open-all-night restaurant the writer visited. She is 24. 24 year olds do things like that. I had to set an alarm.

The restaurant is called Mi Tierra, and is about a six minute Uber ride from the station, in the middle of the historic district. Its colorful, frenetic decor is reminiscent of the Indian restaurants on the Lower East Side of NYC.

They are especially proud of their murals depicting famous Texans. 

I had a 2 hour window to get these shots before the train left - that was a bit nerve wracking - but I made it in plenty of time. Sleeping on the train is fantastic, as the train gently rocks back and forth. The only problem is the frequent, and seemingly sudden stops that wake you throughout the night.

After a hearty, and definitely heartier than my usual yogurt and/or coffee, the 2nd day on the train was entirely relaxing, even if I was working pretty much the whole day. 

We passed through the vastly different landscape of Central and West Texas, crossing the Pecos High Bridge, which has some claim as some highest sort of bridge. 

The writer perfectly described the changing views, from Louisiana to Texas, saying "The greens and browns of the bayou were gradually supplanted by the ocher of the Southwest." I don't think I saw water again after the Pecos until I reached the Pacific.

We arrived at Union Station in Los Angeles at 6:20am. I took photos around the station, as it came to life, waiting for the car rental place to open. The station has been renovated, and is spectacular, though I wish they would open the old restaurant and bar, which looks amazing, but was closed off.

In Los Angeles, the writer interviewed people of Creole descent, in a restaurant in a largely Louisiana diaspora neighborhood. Unfortunately, they were not available to me for portraits, and the restaurant was closed for renovations. There was literally nothing for me to shoot, in order to illustrate her LA portion of the story. 

Worried about this part before I even left, I found a Creole Zydeco community in the area, who happened to be having a dance in Long Beach, not far from LA, while I was in town. I drove the hour, and found a very familiar scene: a crowd of mixed ages and races, enjoying a Zydeco band.

David Sousa, Guy Martin Wenzel, and Joe Fontenot, all originally from Louisiana, are musicians in various cajun and zydeco bands in the Los Angeles area.

Joe Sands Fontenot is a traditional Cajun and Creole musician. He moved to Los Angeles for better work opportunities in the 1950s from Mamou, LA.

91 year old Howard Citizen, originally from Eunice, LA, listens to music by the Swamp Critters at a Zydeco dance in Long Beach, CA. "Citizen" as he is known by, is a fixture on Zydeco and Cajun music scene in southern California.

Accordian player T-Lou Eaglin, left, is originally from Grand Coteau, LA. He moved to California in 1964 for better employment opportunities, and now plays in T-Lou and His Super Hot Zydeco Band. On the right is Dempsey Pappion, who relocated to the Los Angeles area in the 1980s. Originally fom Lake Charles, Louisiana, he plays washboard in Cajun and Zydeco bands in the LA region.

I believe there's a whole story in itself, when it comes to the Zydeco and Cajun music scenes in California. While there is a definite divide between the two camps in Louisiana, they are more comingled out west, which might even be a tiny point of contention amongst the older Cajun purests I met. No matter. They are keeping their Louisiana heritage and traditions alive, from the swampy marshes to the sunny beaches.

If you aren't in hurry, I highly recommend the Sunset Limited to get to LA from NO, but only if you can spring for a sleeper. It was pretty dismal back in steerage.