All Dat New Orleans by Michael Murphy

Author:Michael Murphy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Countryman Press
Published: 2017-03-18T04:00:00+00:00

St. Louis Cemetery #1 425 Basin St.

This is the oldest and most visited aboveground cemetery in New Orleans. Residents include Marie Laveau, our Voodoo Queen, and it is the future home of Nicolas Cage, our Scenery Chewing King. Among the over 700 vaults, there are a number of society tombs: Societe Francaise, the Benevolent Society of France, a Portuguese Benevolent Association, one for the Orleans Battalion of Artillery dedicated to anonymous soldiers killed at the Battle of New Orleans and that uses once-active cannons as a hedge around the monument.

Some think Marie Laveau’s grave actually holds her daughter, also named Marie Laveau. Others think they’re both buried there. Still others think the Glapion family vault, of her husband’s family, is a ruse and Marie and her daughter are hidden elsewhere. There are stories that her bones were removed by voodoo practitioners to be used as high octane gris gris, or that her body was tossed into Lake Pontchartrain for reasons unclear. You can stroll through the cemetery and find two other tombs covered in the three-X voodoo pattern and offerings left for Marie.

People love conspiracy theories: Elvis lives in Kalamazoo. The moon landing was a hoax. Donald Trump is really Andy Kaufman in bloated disguise. The Glapion vault, which WAS Marie’s final resting place, is the second-most visited gravesite in America. Elvis in Memphis is number one. The vault is covered in three Xs, which represent “spirit, unity and power” in the voodoo tradition. The theory is if you scribble three X’s, knock three times, turn around three times, or spit spirits from your mouth (the alcoholic kind) onto the grave three times, your wish will be granted. The Archdiocese frowns upon spitting or drawing X’s. In fact, if you now spit or draw on the tomb you’ll be evicted and your tour guide’s license revoked.

After you’re (still permitted) knocking or spinning, you are also supposed to say aloud whatever you wish for. I once followed another tour group and witnessed a woman do all the ritual, but then she started to just walk away. I beckoned her back. “Whoa. Whatever you just wished for, you’re supposed to say it aloud.” Horrified, she looked at me, “Really?!” I assured her if she wanted her wish to come true, she had to ask for it . . . aloud. Finally girding her strength, the woman belted out, “I want a rich husband!”

You might also still notice a variety of offerings at the base of the grave: fake flowers, loose change, Mardi Gras beads, a pen out of ink, a number of lipstick tubes, rosary medals, an unused condom pack—pretty much anything to symbolize an area you need help. The point is, when you visit Marie Laveau’s grave, you should honor the sacred spot and leave her “something.” I used to tell tour takers, “You don’t have to leave her anything. But, if you don’t and you go home and your teeth start falling out, don’t blame me.” Here, too, the grumpy Archdiocese no longer allows anything to be left at her gravesite.

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