Francis Helluin
October 26, 2017
Lafourche Booking Log – Oct. 25
October 26, 2017
My readers know that I don’t follow a time line. I skip around as my memories take me. Today’s political correctness would deem me chronologically challenged because in this column I go back to the year 1918 and Golden Meadow Elementary school. Principal Arthur Scott tells his assistant, Miss Loretta Mcabe, “I just received a letter from Uncle Sam. I’ve been drafted into the U.S. Army. Take over. I’m out of here.” Or something like that, because I wasn’t there. In fact I wasn’t anywhere for another 26 years, but remember his name.
Now forward in time to year 1942. World War II was blazing and my father, Roosevelt had been requested (a strong request from his draft board) to take a job at Higgins Industries in New Orleans building landing crafts for the army. (General Eisenhower later told Mr. Higgins that those boats won the war for the U.S.A.) Dad was too old for the draft and had dependents, but he and other Cajuns in his bracket were needed for the war effort.
Dad and Mom found a house and moved to the city. (They later rented an extra room to Alvin Duet from Galliano for the duration) I stayed with relatives to finish seventh grade and then took a bus to join them and my younger sister Betty. I had to enroll in high school but Dad waited until the last day and said “let’s go.”
We boarded the Broad street bus and Dad asked the driver “Hey cap, is there a high school around here?” I crawled under a seat. He answered, “There’s S.J. Peters High, thirty blocks from here.” Like talking to a cab driver Dad said “O.K. cap, take us there.” During the trip, Dad told the driver about the best fishing spots in Lafourche Parish. I crawled further under the seat and I could hear the driver thinking “Of all the buses in all the cities in all the world, why did they walk into mine.” (Sorry Bogey)
The bus stopped, and with a sigh of relief the driver said, “this is it.” We got out and Dad said “Go do what you have to do” and he crossed the street, took a bus and headed back home.
All alone I was staring at a three story intimidating building with carved letters reading “S.J. Peters.” Very insecure, I climbed the steps, and as I entered a sign read “register here.” I spoke to the registrar, who inquired “Where’s that accent from.” I replied “I’m a Cajun from Golden Meadow, Louisiana.” She said “Well Bienvenu, report to your home room.” I later learned that was a French word Cajuns never used and what was a home room? A nice teacher escorted me, I signed in and sat down.
Just then, a loud voice boomed “Leroy Martin report to the Principal’s office.” I panicked because I had never heard a public address system before and I knew what that message meant in Golden Meadow. Bad news!
I found the office and was escorted to a stern looking gentleman who said “have a seat Mr. Martin. I’m Arthur Scott and I was the first Principal of Golden Meadow Elementary school.” I heaved a sigh of relief as he asked “How is everybody down there, especially Miss Mcabe?”
“She’s now Mrs. Menton Chouest, Sr. and the mother of three.” For the next hour he asked about the town and the people he remembered. I told him everything I knew and it was a better meeting that I had anticipated. I was proud that the first friend I made was the top dog, and I was never again called to that principal’s office. It’s good to have friends in high places, just like Louisiana politics.
Many years later I read that Mr. Scott was electrocuted using a drill to repair his roof after a storm. I felt sorry for this nice gentleman and it brought back memories of my first day at a big city school. I had much more to learn. Yes, it’s was a small world, after all. Still is… ask Disney. BYE NOW!
Historical columnist Leroy Martin looks back at his time in “a big city school.” Through this week’s story, Mr. Martin shows our readers why it’s a small world after all.
