After getting a Ph. D. in mathematics, I had a difficult time finding a job. I finally landed one at UNO, and I arrived in New Orleans Aug. 14, 1977; the day before Elvis died.
You should realize that I lived in Providence, R.I. for the first 21 years of my life, and then I lived in Milwaukee for seven years. This did not afford good preparation for living in New Orleans.
When I stepped out of the airport and took in my first breath of the sweet, hot, humid summer air, my first thought was, “I can’t breathe.” I immediately took a cab to UNO, where I sequestered myself for the rest of the day.
I walked through the French Quarter the next day looking for an apartment. The Quarter was dirty, run-down and full of crazies. I loved it. I realized the Quarter had room for everyone, even me. When I reached the center of the Quarter I heard the calliope from the riverboat. I had no idea where the music was coming from. It was a moment of pure magic. I knew then that the Quarter was where I belonged
Unfortunately, on that day I was still walking the Wisconsin walk. This is how people in Wisconsin walk when the temperature plus wind chill reaches 20 degrees below zero. This manner of walking can be summed up in the phrase, “Move fast or freeze”. I quickly realized that this is not suitable for the New Orleans summer. This was my first lesson in living in New Orleans.
After living near City Park for a year, I eventually found an apartment in the Quarter, it was a large fourth floor studio on Dumaine Street. It was hot in the summer and cold in the winter, but it had a tremendous view of the rooftops and I was happy there.
I was able to indulge one of my favorite activities at that time, which was walking down Bourbon Street at night. What fascinated me the most about Bourbon Street was that people were actually walking around after dark. This did not happen in the more staid cities in which I had lived.
You may wonder if I ever went into the nightclubs on Bourbon Street. I did on two occasions, when friends visited. It was no fun. I will spare you the details. Let me only say that if you like dirt, sleaze and hostility, then those bars are the place for you.
When I was on my own I followed the precept of the great theologian Mark Twain, who said, “There are many defenses against temptation, but the best is cowardice.” I don’t know if it is the best, but it worked for me. I stayed out.
After living in New Orleans for a while, I encountered some of the characters who inhabited the Quarter in those days. There was Ruthie the Duck Lady, who roller-skated around the Quarter carrying a duck and insulting the people in bars who gave her free booze. There was Michael, who always went barefoot and who was rewriting the Bible. There was the Button Lady, who would offer to sell a Lucky Bead.
I also savored the conversations which I heard in New Orleans. Here is a small sample.
A lady at the zoo told her children, “They call that animal a hippo because it is fat. It has big hips.”
Two men were talking:
FIRST MAN: “I’m tired. I need a vacation.”
SECOND MAN: “Oh yeah? How long were you in jail?”
FIRST MAN: (sighing) “Three days, but it went by fast.”
As I grew older I learned to enjoy the city for its age and for its uniqueness. I love it for its Catholic character. Nowhere else in the country can you read headlines in the sports page like, “Brother Martin trounces Archbishop Rummel”.
I love walking through the Quarter and running into a parade, or encountering street performers playing music. I love the great food, which is so much a part of the city’s culture. I even learned to love the air, which previously I had found almost unbreathable but which is now as sweet as wine to me.
Most of all I treasure New Orleans for its people. People in this city are genuine, and they know how to enjoy life. I went back to Providence for a visit a few years ago. When in the hotel I nodded to someone in the hall. His head whipped around at me so fast I thought it would fly off his neck, and he gave me a look of angry suspicion. Folks just don’t do that sort of thing up there.
When I came back to the Quarter I went to Verti Marte, a popular local deli. The cook had the radio on. After a while he started singing, and then he started dancing. Eventually the customers started singing and dancing as well. I was home.
Ralph Tucci is a professor of mathematics. He can be reached at
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