Copy Barbreck on the SP RR (Opelousas to Cheneyville)

From the Guest Book:



"I have been doing genealogy research. My family was from the Louisiana area and my Great Aunt Pearl wrote about the Barbreck Plantation. She wrote: "Barbreck was the most important of the three plantations. On it were located the depot, sugar mill, store, post office, cotton gin and blacksmith shop." Her book is 'The Door is Open-Commemorating the 150th Anniversary of the Louisiana Purchase'. I thought you might find this interesting since you were looking for the Barbreck Depot. I haven't been to visit this area, but, looking at Google Maps, it shows Barbreck off of Daniel Road from La.29. Thank you for the little peek into the countryside of this area. It looks wonderful.

Sincerely, Leanna"



This one got my attention,no matter that I had the winter cold and flu funkies.



Immediately upon swinging my leg over the saddle, I felt much better. I almost explained the lessening symptoms, but I won't take you there. Knowing that this one might have a premature conclusion due my condition, I hastefully flew up the Teche Valley until I reached Arnaudville. I decided to take La.347 north. Upon exiting town, I passed Railroad Ave. I am a sucker for "Railroad Avenues". They have led me to some great discoveries. How obvious a hint can the history god offer up? Duh. I took a bunch of pictures of the avenue, the presumed bayou crossing, and a road which now occupies the rail's right of way going south. I'm not showing those pictures to you here. I'll insert a link later if you are a sucker for that kind of stuff. I realized that this right of way was part of the Cade to St.Martinville to Breaux Bridge to Arnaudville to Leonville to Port Barre, Southern Pacific route. I knew there were rails leaving BB going north which helped with that conclusion. The old humps have been leveled and it is so old my old software does not show it. You can still make it out on satellite if you have an idea of where to look. The pictures of the route laid over the satellite pictures will be on that added link.



No, it won't. Everett has found the maps and they will be on that link. Or, maybe, I'll put both.



As I rode from Arnaudville to Leonville, I could see the slightly raised bed out in the swamp to the east. The season, with its decreased foliage, has made peering a lot easier. From a familiar road going east off 347, I made out what I suspected to be the right of way bending toward Leonville. Entering town, I saw an old man riding a bicycle down the road. I knew he had been sent to show me the way. We talked in front of this building, an appropriate place to have a history discussion.







The gentleman was cheerfully helpful and we might have had a longer talk if we had not been interrupted by other people. He told me that the railroad had followed 347, as I suspected. I asked him where the depot was. He offered to lead me down there on his bicycle before the other people showed up. I did go to where he described and found a large cement support block I suspect was part of the depot area, if not the depot itself. He told me that a lady that owns much of the property along there has the Leonville Depot sign and that she has been offered big bucks for it and refused to sell. I commend her, somethings just aren't for sale. Somethings are, depends. Here's that cement. I have since thought of so many questions I could have asked him. That's the way it always is.







I know, I should have put the cement picture on that link page for the train nuts, but.....I will.



Back in the day, this site was almost completely consumed with pictures of old houses and barns. Being the last day of the year, a bit of nostalgia has gripped me or maybe it's my cold meds? Whatever, here's a barn that was near the ghost tracks.







There were a few more taken of that rail route. They'll be at the SP:Cade to Port Barre link. I know you want to get on up the line.



I arrived in Port Barre for one of those just in time stops. I commend the City of Port Barre for their very clean portable restroom located at the rest stop. Too bad the historical marker is down in the mud. Someone might of hit it trying to get to the very clean portable restroom as quickly as I did.







I went west on US 190, then I flew up 743 to 103 and shot into Washington, mindful of my unfinished business there. By the way, all of the roads pictured here, except I-49 and US 190, are prime riding roads. I mention that as guidance to such roads is a prime mission of the Back Road Riding and Highways Reviewed websites.







After leaving Washington on La.10. I turned north on La.182 which turns into La.29.

I'm going to close this page with a bunch of pictures of this one field. It's the drugs, Louise. I'll eat some lunch and we'll be on to Barbreck, Whiteville Methodist, the hunters, the lady, and more help from the history deity.



















And, the pink barn has always been a much photographed favorite.











After reaching La.29, I pulled over to prepare myself for what I might find. Explaining my purpose to the surprised land owner is always a challenge. I usually appear deranged which brings a frown of suspicion upon the face of my impatient victim. My explanations are usually way too long. I should read a book on personal introductions.



These are my notes on her notes, so far. Leanna has promised more. This is explained from her point of view, that being her interest in her family history. I'm including all that she has because, believe it or not, people reading this might connect and another jubilation of cousins connecting could occur. If not interested in this part, you know how to scroll down a page.



HER WORDS, I may have added a comma as I keep a large supply. I have also rearranged the sentences to be in a time line:



Here is some of the information that I have been able to compile pertaining to my family.....



My GGGrandfather was Hiram Gustavus Robert(s).

Hiram purchased the plantation form Pierre Gabriel Wartelle, a prominent sugar planter. He was a captain in the French Army under the Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte and came to America after the battle of Waterloo. He acquired much property in St. Landry parish and there built the old Wartelle home in 1828 which is yet standing. (This information was taken from Terry D. Smith, The Limbs and Branches of the Smith Family Tree, Rootsweb).



Maybe, Wartelle purchased the land from Marsden Campbell ( me: the original owner?) Anyway, I have a copy of the recorder files from 20 October, 1859. It states that it is a certain plantation situated in the....on the East and south Banks of Bayou Boeuf...bounded on the upper or north side by lands of the Henry J.Dunbar family and over the lower or south side of land of Green Hudspeth, East and the further Domain and land of Gene Andreus....



My GGGrandfather, Hiram G.Robert(s) was married to Mary J. Daniel(s). I believe her brother was John Wesley Daniel, who later owned part or all of the plantation in later years. Hiram Roberts had six daughters and one son:

Sarah S. Roberts, 1845 - ?

Elizabeth Harriet Roberts, 1846 - 1883 married Isam Vest

Susan Roberts, 1848 - 1927 married Jacob Matthews

Emma Jane Roberts, 1850 - 1927 married Mercina Starks Street (mine)

Willaim J. Roberts, 1857 - 1949 married Virginia Montgomery

Matilda Roberts, 1860 - 1942 DeWitt I Fogleman

Fannie Roberts, 1862 - ? married Albert Bundick.



Through scuttlebutt, only, I have heard that (GGGFather) Hiram G. Roberts was in the Civil War, was wounded and taken prisoner and died in New Orleans around 1863. I have never been able to confirm this information but have heard about it from more than one source. There was a Judgment of Partition, May 11th 1872, (this would be after the death of Mary Daniel Roberts) between John W. Daniel and the Roberts children. Who knows?



ME: Then she goes on to explain a bit about the plantation and her great aunt.



My Great Aunt Pearl was born in 1894 at the plantation. I think at this time it would have been owned primarily by John Wesley Daniel, her great uncle. She talks, also, about a company owning it(?).



In, or about, 1948, she must have visited again because she wrote quite a bit about the plantation in her book. She didn't include any family information since she was writing a scholarly text. There are about eight pages describing the life and work on the plantation. If you would like, I could transcribe these pages but for now here is a description of the house itself.



ME: Yes, I'd like them and will insert them on this page when you have a chance. Below is quoting from Aunt Pearl's book:



"Farther up Bayou Boeuf, in the northwestern corner of St. Landry Parish, were three large sugarcane plantations, owned by a company in the latter half of the nineteenth century--St. Peters, Barbreck and Anchorage.



Back of the fields on Barbreck (originally, "Barbeck" (?) plantation was a canebrake (small bamboo) that was once the habitat of bears and was named Bear Brake. Down through the years, the bears disappeared and cattle began to use the brake as their winter home. In time the name was changed to Barbreck.



(I think the name, "Barbeck", did originally come from Marsden Campbell of Scotland (Wartelle bought the plantation from him). It is interesting how the story that Aunt Pearl knew differs. [Me:I'd like to hear that story]



Barbeck was the most important of the three plantations. On it were located the depot, sugar mill, store, post office, cotton gin and blacksmith shop. The main crop was sugarcane but some cotton was grown and enough corn was produced to feed the livestock on the place all year. Barbreck was one of the best planned plantations in its day.



All the buildings were constructed of BRICKS made by slaves from the red clay found in that area. The residence for the manager was some distance from the shaded banks of Bayou Boeuf.



ME: I've tried to apply this description to the house I found. Warm up your imagination.



The front and back walls of the one and one-half storied building were flush with the ground.



Beneath the galleries the spaces between the pillars were trellis-enclosed.



The house was surrounded by a cypress picket fence painted white; live oaks stood in front, sides and back, pecan trees on the sides and to the rear; a flower garden of jasmines and roses in front; vines draped themselves gracefully over the trellis and fence that separated the front and back yards.



A wide brick walk led to the broad low steps of the deep gallery running the entire length of the house with six large columns across the front.



............In another section [of the book]



If you stood on the rear gallery, to the right, you would see the underground brick cistern surrounded by a floor, level with the walk that led from the gallery, all enclosed with lattice work. This cistern water was used for household purposes only; it was caught after the winter rains had set in.



To the left of the house was a small brick building used as the summer kitchen and reached by a covered brick walk.



ME:

I was at the beginning of the gravel road named "Daniel". I felt in sync.











I was practicing my spiel.







I was figuring that the only thing here was farming stuff.

I topped the bridge. It looked familiar.







Real familiar. It sure was heavy duty for a farm bridge.







The reddish brown waters of Bayou Boeuf lay below.







I saw someone working on a boat. I approached, waving and being jovial. I proceeded to introduce myself, explaining that I was not from Opelousas, when he asked, and how my name was spelled several times. I then went into an explanation of my mission and my desires. I think I appeared confused. At the end, I didn't know why I was there.



He did the sideways hand motion which means "shut up, none of that matters". He proceeded to say he was not the guy I needed to talk to and that he could not give me permission to be on the property or take pictures. Thank goodness, I might have a second chance.



He said the owner was in Opelousas. It was over, I wouldn't have access. But......he'd call him and ask. I heard trumpets blow. After what seemed like an eternity of BS back and forth on the phone, he got down to telling the owner that there was some guy there that wanted to take pictures of the old house. Wow, there was an old house. He hadn't mentioned that. I guess he didn't want me to bull rush him and take the plunder without permission. He said that I should stay away from the building since it was not stable and if I got hurt, it would be on his shoulders. I complied and took these shots. No, Al, I didn't go in. It was that scary.



Sorry, that's on the NEXT PAGE. I'm getting drowsy, very drowsy.

Let me add this while I'm thinking of it. The property is now owned by Daniel "somename". In my explanation to the worker, every time I said "Daniel", I got a smile of recognition. When I finally made it clear that Daniel was the last name, the fog thickened as it fell upon us all.



Hopefully the fog that seemed to hang over yesterday's page has lifted. To answer a lingering question, which I know you have, the bridge looked familiar because it was a part of the same bridge that I found in two places near LeCompte on the Depot Adventure. Evidently, the old Red River Bridge at Moncla, north of Marksville, was cut up into many pieces by some aspiring entrepreneur and sold to residents up and down the Boeuf and possibly other streams. The Red River is very wide at Moncla and the bridge would have to have been of a corresponding length to complete the crossing, thus affording the entrepreneur many pieces. I wonder if there's codeine in that cough medicine? This may get silly, the fog seems thicker.



New Entry: Leanna has sent a chapter from her aunt's book which includes passages regarding Barbeck. It will be at the bottom of the page. I would suggest reading it before looking at the house pictures.



I took many pictures of the house. One thing bothers me, the underground cistern. I think it should have been at the back of the house. Could it have been at the front? This is why I bring Al along, he can figure these questions out. Tell you what I'm going to do, and you can make up your own mind, mine being what it presently is.



I'll transfer the description on the last page to this page so you can look at the house, look at the description, look at the house, look at the description ........and make your own conclusion as if this is the house or not. You may offer your opinions, even if biased.



"All the buildings were constructed of BRICKS made by slaves from the red clay found in that area. [I have a picture of the kiln] The residence for the manager was some distance from the shaded banks of Bayou Boeuf.



The front and back walls of the one and one-half storied building were flush with the ground. (yes, the walls are flush, but it is clearly two full stories)



Beneath the galleries the spaces between the pillars were trellis-enclosed. (gone)



The house was surrounded by a cypress picket fence painted white; live oaks stood in front, sides and back, pecan trees on the sides and to the rear; a flower garden of jasmines and roses in front; vines draped themselves gracefully over the trellis and fence that separated the front and back yards. (just imagine)



A wide brick walk led to the broad low steps of the deep gallery running the entire length of the house with six large columns across the front. (I see the steps, why didn't she say "width" of the house if looking at it from the front?)



If you stood on the rear gallery, to the right, you would see the underground brick cistern surrounded by a floor, level with the walk that led from the gallery, all enclosed with lattice work. This cistern water was used for household purposes only; it was caught after the winter rains had set in.

(That brick "well" must have been the cistern. It was not level with any walk.)



To the left of the house was a small brick building used as the summer kitchen and reached by a covered brick walk." (I didn't see it)



On to the house.



After Danny, the present owner, had told Bob that it was OK for me to take a few pictures, I rode back to the house. Mercy.






I was swept with a wave of sadness, especially after Bob told me that it could have been saved. The following pictures are in the order which they were taken. I was moving from what I call the front, the cistern side, then around to the left and behind.



Below taken from front left.







Left side and left rear. Notice the chimney behind the bay windows. Also, look at the enclosed "widow walk" atop the house.







The next shot is from the rear. Notice the extensive large gutter system culminating in a collection funnel. The water should have gone to the cistern which is on the other side of the house. This does not make sense.







Back to the "front". I know you want to look into the cistern.







Maybe it wasn't the cistern but the septic tank? How did water get to the house?







And, this is the right side. Notice the bay window and chimney just like the left side.







Here's the kiln, or what's left of it, now an island in a crawfish pond. That part of the explanation, the "homemade bricks" part, is right on.







Here's an overview of the place. CLICK IT TO ENLARGE.







A parting shot:







I waved to Bob who was still busy putting fenders on his mud boat while trying to explain to his wife on the cellphone why and that he'd be along as soon as he was finished. You tell em Bob.



To relate the drama of my exit, I took the following pictures. This is the Boeuf and a pump sucking water from her to probably flood the crawfish pond.







And over the Moncla bridge one more time.







And a look down the old red Boeuf.







It was a melancholy exit. I figured I'd ride across the highway and see if anything was left of the Barbreck depot. That stretch would be the one dark moment of the ride.



Read below or CLICK HERE TO GO TO THE NEXT PAGE



The next paragraph will be Leanna's words, although rearranged a bit. I have decided not to amend any of her aunt's historical writings, though Leanna suggested I might want to. That would be blasphemy. The word she was worried about is "Negro". That word's use, in her aunt's text, is synonymous with "worker", and that is all. It is a pretty good history lesson on St.Landry Parish and a wonderful description of general plantation life and a look inside Barbreck Plantation. From here down are Leanna's words and those of her aunt's.



Leanna:



Now, on the book. Some of the dates are off, Aunt Pearl's book was published in 1953. She was born in 1892 or 1890 (according to conflicting sources). I am going to send the pages of the book first. I realize that she uses language that is not accepted as politically correct. I will not in any way be offended if you think some of this should not be posted. I have mixed feelings about it. On one hand this is what she wrote and my Aunt Pearl didn't have a mean bone in her body that I have ever heard. She wrote in terms of the time she lived. Then again, it can be a very sensitive subject.





The Door is Open

Commemorating the 150th Anniversary of the Louisiana Purchase

by Pearl Street

Copyright, 1953, by Pearl Street

Published by Pageant Press, New York, NY

Chapter 3, St. Landry Parish



ST. LANDRY PARISH is one of the oldest parishes in Louisiana. It has been more than two hundred and fifty years since the first white men made their appearance in the southwest section of Louisiana. This fertile land was given to the Opelousas tribe of Indians. The name Opelousas is of indefinite origin. Some historians have translated it to mean Man with black leg, as a description of the Indians whose legs were darker than the rest of their bodies, while others contend that it means Salt water and has recourse to the fact that this vast prairie was once a part of the sea. The Indians have now disappeared from this region, but the entire tribe visited Opelousas about 1850 for the last time.





The first white men to settle here were the French who established a settlement about 1690. They held this Louisiana territory until 1762, when it was sold to Spain by Napoleon Bonaparte to keep England from acquiring it. The Spaniards occupied the country until 1803, when it was sold to France, who within a few days, sold the vast territory to the United States. The Spaniards built a military and trading post at Opelousas in 1765. This village, El Poste de Opelousas, became the governing center of the entire southwestern part of the territory. The post, a large garrison, was established near the site of the present Academy of the Immaculate Conception. The pioneers built their homes near it for protection. Some of the Spaniards remained after the fort was dismantled and this became the nucleus of Opelousas.





St. Landry Parish, having derived the name from St. Landry Catholic Church, was established by a legislative act and approved on April 10, 1805. At first the parish included all the land between the Atchafalaya River on the east, the Sabine River on the west, between the southern boundaries of Rapides and Vernon Parishes on the north, and the northern boundaries of Lafayette and St. Martin Parishes on the south. Since then six other parishes--Acadia, Evangeline, Calcasieu, Jefferson Davis, Beauregard and Allen--have been formed from this wide expanse of land.

As the volume of business increased rapidly, the lack of suitable roads began to present a problem. Territorial legislature passed an act that provided a certain sum of money be appropriated for road construction. The land was cleared of trees and stumps, the holes filled with brush and all were covered with earth. Crude bridges were constructed across some streams while ferries were installed across others. After the road was completed men with shovels, spades, axes and wheelbarrows donated their time to keep it in good condition.





During the early days stock raising was the important business. Cattle and hides were sent to New Orleans by the way of Washington on Bayou Courtableau and by connecting waterways which were navigable by inland boats. This business continued to expand and by the end of the nineteenth century immense herds of cattle were being moved over the Old Spanish Trail to New Orleans, where they were slaughtered and distributed throughout the country. The cattle rustlers had no misgivings if they murdered a man and confiscated his cattle; consequently, cattle raising was eventually replaced by cotton growing. In the last few years the raising of sweet potatoes has become a parish-wide occupation.





The first schools in the parish were St. Charles College, which later became a seminary for scholastics, and the Convent of the Sacred Heart which was instituted by the Sisters Marianites at Grand Coteau in 1823 for the higher education of girls. Formerly, the young people had been sent to New Orleans, to the east or to France. These two colleges, with a number of private teachers, offered the only formal education in the parish until 1840, when Franklin College was established. It was located on the site presently occupied by the Opelousas Cotton Oil Mill. A. Mr. White conducted a private school in Opelousas before the Civil War. Immediately after the war there were no public schools in the parish. For a number of years there were only St. Mary’s Academy and the Opelousas Female Institute. Other private nondenominational schools were scattered throughout the parish from Washington to Barbreck along Bayou Boeuf. The young men of St. Landry attended St. Mary’s Academy.





The Reconstruction era was marked by social and political disturbances when an alarming outbreak occurred between the whites and blacks when the carpet-bag government was forced on the citizens of Louisiana. Naturally, at each election, relations became more strained until finally in the riot of 1896, Negroes were eliminated from voting.





After the courthouse was destroyed by fire in 1886, a heated contest followed between Opelousas and Washington as to where the new courthouse would be built. Finally, a referendum was held. The results showed that the citizens of the parish favored Opelousas. A courthouse was erected and served until 1938 when a new modernized structure replaced the fifty-two-year-old building.





The Opelousas and Northwestern was the first railroad to be built in the parish. The roadbed was finished about 1850, but for some reason the train never was operated. Morgan’s Louisiana and Texas Railroad was built through the parish from Lafayette to Alexandria, with the right of way being given by the landowners. The Opelousas, Gulf and Northeastern was taken over by the Texas and Pacific and went through Opelousas to Crowley in 1907. In two more years, the Texas and Missouri Railroad was extended through Opelousas to Beaumont and Houston, Texas.

The first bank of the parish was organized a few years before the first railroad was built. It was located on the block south of Courthouse Square and functioned until 1862. The St. Landry Bank was organized in 1890.





The newspapers in St. Landry have had a long history, too. The Opelousas Gazette, the first paper, was started in September, 1827 and continued until 1852. Andre Meynier followed the lead of the Gazette when he founded the Opelousas Courier continuing until 1910. The St. Landry Whig was established in 1844; in 1885 the Whig was succeeded by the Opelousas Patriot, which was temporarily withdrawn at the beginning of the Civil War. In 1867, a Republican paper, the St. Landry Progress, was organized with Michel Vidal, Cassimir E. Durand and Emerson Bentley as co-editors, but due o their seditious utterances the people were aroused and there were a number of clashes between them and the carpet-bag government with the press being thrown into Tesson Bayou later. After the war the Southern Sentinal was born, and in 1890, a new paper, the Clarion, was begun. Later it took over the Progress and became the Clarion-Progress. The St. Landry Commoner was started in 1910 but it was discontinued in 1919.





The early settlers were people of different nationalities; at first the French and Spanish settled in this area, followed later by the Americans--who were regarded as usurpers. As the French had settled at this trading post parlez-vous francais? is still heard and used in the courts.





Under the Spanish regime, the town was known as El Poste de Opelousas. Its mien indicates that it was a pioneer settlement, setting it aloof as not being an ordinary city.





Six miles above Opelousas is the little town of Washington that was settled about 1800 and incorporated in 1835. It was the chief shipping port in this area due to its location. It is about two miles below the point at which Bayou Boeuf and Bayou Cocodrie meet to form Bayou Courtableau, flowing on to unite with Bayou Teche and finally uniting with the mighty waters of the gulf forming an important link in water transportation for this area.





Above Washington, the pioneers who came in the 1840’s and later blazed their way into a wilderness of trees along Bayou Boeuf. These early settlers, sturdy stock from Mississippi, had their slaves and money to start new homes. They did not have Indians to harass them, but they had to clear the forest, till the soil, and build small homes of hand-hewn shingles, siding, foundations of Louisiana’s everlasting cypress, and handmade bricks for chimneys. At first the cabins were small, but as time passed, they became substantial houses. These venerable homes are fast disappearing through the ravages of time, fire, and the very modern way of repairing with composition siding and roofing.





Back of the homes were the cotton fields that supplied the family with money. In the spring the ground was plowed several times in order that the soil would be well-turned over and made into new rows. After the Negroes had prepared the ground the cotton seeds were planted. As the plants grew, cultivators were used to keep the land mellow and porous enough to enable the young plants to get food and water. After several weeks white blossoms appeared, then little hard green bolls. As they grew and opened, snowy-white cotton tumbled in wild profusion and gave the field a snow-flecked appearance. When cotton-picking time came, the Negroes, each with a large bag made of canvas or duck slung from their shoulders by means of a wide band, started picking. There was always a great deal of friendly rivalry among them to see who could pick the most cotton, as they were paid according to the number of pounds picked. Away they went, while their nimble fingers plucked the fleecy cotton from the open dried pods. Some were more rapid pickers than others and were able to empty their filled bags in the baskets placed on the turning row. They created a form of singing, a forerunner of jazz, as they worked. Sometimes they chanted their church hymns, for they were deeply religious. While they sang or chanted they gathered speed. When quitting time came, the cotton was weighed on the steelyard suspended from a tree near the storehouse. As soon as enough cotton was picked, it was sent to the gin nearby in wagons with deep beds.





Inside the gin there was the humming sound of running machinery. The cotton, after it was separated from the seeds, was baled, wrapped in burlap, and held with strong iron bands. These bales weighed about four hundred and fifty to five hundred pounds and were graded by the cotton buyer.





Time has wrought a change. A paved highway has replaced the old road along the meandering bayou. You can stand where cypress and oak trees shade you while weeping willows, whose branches sway and dip gracefully near the water, enhance the beauty of this spot. High water has caused havoc, too. In some places the old road had been washed away or undermined by the current; even the small footbridges have been caught in the sweep of time and are no more. Tall red or white-washed brick chimneys stood like regal sentinels daring anyone to enter the sacred grounds overgrown with Cherokee roses, briers and tall grass--all matted together to form a barrier to the intruder. You stand at the entrance to what was once a lovely garden and dream of the people who once lived here. Anywhere from ten to thirty slaves helped the master and mistress to care for the small plantation; the tow-storied white frame structure, with deep galleries, stood among the oak trees in the well-kept flower garden, with the large vegetable garden in the rear. Now a flock of crows flies noisily over the scene and breaks the spell of enchantment.





Farther up Bayou Boeuf, in the northwestern corner of St. Landry Parish, were three large sugar-cane plantations, owned by a company in the latter half of the nineteenth century--St. Peters, Barbreck and Anchorage.

Back of the fields on Barbreck plantation was a canebrake (small bamboo) that was once the habitat of bears and was named Bear Brake. Down through the years, the bears disappeared and cattle began to use the brake as their winter home. In time the name was changed to Barbreck.





Barbeck was the most important of the three plantations. On it were located the depot, sugar mill, store, post office, cotton gin and blacksmith shop. The main crop was sugar cane but some cotton was grown and enough corn was produced to feed the livestock on the place all year. Barbreck was one of the best planned plantations in its day. All the buildings were constructed of bricks made by slaves from the red clay found in that area. The residence for the manager was some distance from the shaded banks of Bayou Boeuf. The front and back walls of the one and one-half storied building were flush with the ground. Beneath the galleries the spaces between the pillars were trellis-enclosed. The house was surrounded by a cypress picket fence painted white; live oaks stood in front, sides and back, pecan trees on the sides and to the rear; a flower garden of jasmines and roses in front; vines draped themselves gracefully over the trellis and fence that separated the front and back yards. A wide brick walk led to the broad low steps of the deep gallery running the entire length of the house with six large columns across the front.





If you came to visit at Barbreck, you were met at the door by Mrs. Ronson. White-haired, shoulders erect, energetic, she was dressed in the style of long ago with an heirloom cameo at the neckline. She could reminisce and yet not lose the modern touch. The glassed double-doored entrance, flanked by small panes of light, led into a large hall with the stairway situated in the rear--where the family ascended or descended without being seen. Glimpses of furnishings in the large high-ceilinged rooms revealed large armoires in each bedroom--four-poster beds with testers--a baby’s cradle and trundle bed for the youngsters, dressers, washstands with marble tops, oil lamps in wall brackets. As there were no bathrooms, each bedroom contained a china toilet set. The parlor with its lovely old furnishings was a large airy room. The whatnot with its china figurines, milk glass pieces of owl, chicken, pin trays and plates with open-work rims offered a delight to the collector of rare china. The well-worn sofa was to the left. The space between two windows was occupied by an open fireplace with its brass andirons, tongs and shovel, had the kindling and logs ready for the match. An old clock on the mantel struck the hour. On the walls were several pictures of the family made on different occasions. A small mahogany marble-topped table with stereoscope and pictures stood near a window. Several straight-backed chairs and a secretary completed the furnishings of the old parlor. In the dining room the massive table and chairs did not show the marks of usage. As you left the room, you would note the china closet filled with china, crystal and rare pieces handed down from generation to generation.





Upstairs there were only two bedrooms and a hall, a duplicate of the one below. Three dormer windows broke the severity of the roof lines. Their wide sills were embellished with potted plants. Just off the bedrooms was an unfinished part of the attic. Here were stored cotton cards, an old spinning wheel and an hand loom. The cards were boards with handles and were covered with wire bristles. A card was held in one hand and brushed with cotton; the other card was drawn over this cotton with the hands pulling against each other. After this was done several times to remove any foreign matter, the carded cotton was deftly removed with a slight twist of the top card. The spinning wheel with its single spindle holding the cotton or wool was operated by foot. After the cotton was spun into thread, it was woven into various articles--curtain goods, spreads, blankets and material for clothing.





If you stood on the rear gallery to the right, you would see the underground brick cistern surrounded by a floor, level with the walk that led from the gallery, all enclosed with lattice work. This cistern water was used for household purposes only; it was caught after the winter rains had set in. To the left of the house was a small brick building used as the summer kitchen and reached by a covered brick walk. An immense brick oven filled one end of the kitchen and was used to do all the baking for the plantation. Adjoining the kitchen was a vast storeroom containing barrels of flour, meal, coffee and sugar; quantities of hams, shoulders, bacon, salted sides, smoked sausages, strings of onions, garlic and red peppers were suspended from the beams overhead. In the room back of the kitchen, ashes were stored to be used in making lye soap following hog-killing time, when the Negroes revelled in chitterlings and hoecake.





On the way to the quarters, you would pass the plantation bell mounted on a scaffolding about ten feet high. This bell played an important part in plantation life. The ringing of the bell was entrusted to a member of the family. It was this person’s duty to see that it was rung at seven, twelve and one o’clock. In case of fire the bell was rung sharply and constantly, while the Negroes hurried to save Master’s house or one of theirs. Just beyond the gate was an avenue of magnificent oak trees whose branches interlace and formed a canopy. This was the playground of the little Negro children. No less impressive were the thirteen brick houses on one side of the avenue and twelve on the side with the storehouse. Each house had four rooms and two chimneys with an underground cistern between every two houses. Here lived the Negroes of the plantation; the men and boys cultivating the cane, corn and cotton, while a few of the women and girls worked at the Big House helping Mis’ Mary. The mistress had to see that the rations were weighed, the gardens planted and worked, the sick looked after, and that the house servants were properly trained in their different tasks. Every Saturday all the Negroes stopped work at twelve; the women washed and ironed; the men went to the store, collected their checks and rations. Sunday they went to the Rising Star Baptist Church. Baptismal services were held every spring down by the bridge that crossed Bayou Boeuf.





To the left rear was the blacksmith’s shop, also of brick. Nearby was the stable for the carriage and horses. To the right of these buildings were the vegetable garden and fruit orchard. As it was a most enjoyable occasion, the children of the house accompaniedby one or two adults always insisted on going to the woods to gather wild plums, grapes and muscadines to be made into delicious jelly with a tang that made it appetizing. The Negro children picked blackberries to sell to the Big House. The hay-filled racks in the lot, the bursting corn cribs and the large stables were able to care for fifty mules or more on the place.





As you approached the sugar mill a short distance away, Mrs. Ronson explained about the planting and grinding seasons. In the fall, when the cane had ripened, the manager selected what he thought was the best cane patch to be used as seed cane. This cane was stripped, cut and placed on the ground. As several Negroes had prepared a small plot of ground with a mat of cane leaves and tops, the cut cane was placed on it until the pile was about two feet high; then it was covered with cane leaves and tops, followed by a layer of dirt. This protected the cane from freezing and it was not buried in mud. In the spring the ground was prepared by Negroes. The seed cane was dropped end to end in small furrows and covered by a plow drawn by a pair of mules. The cane sprouted from the eyes on the culms, there being an eye on each joint. This procedure was called first year planting; and it was used every other year--while stubble cane produced only one year’s growth of cane.





During warm weather the cane continued to grow and kept the sugar content low, while a freeze would ruin its quality and cause the cane to become sour. The Negro men and women gathered in the field at dawn with their cane knives. First they grabbed the top and used the small hook on the top of the knife to strip the narrow flat leaves from the stalks, topped each one, and cut them about three or four inches from the ground. The stalks fell into a position easily picked up by the loaders. While they worked, it was natural for them to sing. They moved along in rhythm to the mournful impromptu singing, letting the cadence set the time for their motions. The sugar-cane wagons, with a style of their own, drawn by a pair of mules, went up and down the rows, while Negroes threw the cane into the wagons. After the wagons were filled, they were driven to the sugar mill and waited in line to drive nearthe shed and unload by the front end of the wagon tilting at an angle so that the cane fell on the ground. Negroes placed the cane on an endless carrier made of narrow cypress slats and about four feet wide. Negroes along the carrier straightened the cane, as it had to go in lengthwise between the two huge iron rollers on the second floor level.





There was a carrier on the other side of the rollers to remove the refuse to two large bagasse burners made of brick. The juice was piped from the container to a large open kettle, later removed by pipes to a second and then a third, each time boiled a certain length of time by a low fire underneath. When it was removed to the fourth kettle, it was boiled until it reached the right consistency. This process was in charge of a man who knew when that stage was reached and could take off the “strike”, transferring it into a tank on wheels. Two Negroes who wheeled the tank down an aisle with twelve wooden vats on each side, placed the swivel copper spout over a vat and filled it with the contents from the tank. The sugar content crystallized in these vats, while the liquid dripped through cracks in the bottom to a tank--one below each vat. These drippings formed molasses with sugar content removed. The yellowish-colored crystals left in the vats were sent to a refinery and refined into sugar. At the turn of the century the little sugar mill was converted into a refinery.





Grinding season was a busy tim for all and a happy time for the children, who were plentifully supplied with sugar cane. How they enjoyed going to the sugar mill and getting a pail of that delectable concoction, cuite, to take home. It was very thick, almost taffy-like and most delicious with hot biscuits and butter. When the last stalk of sugar cane had gone between the rollers, the whistle blew. The Negroes were given a bonus and had their celebration. Mrs. Ronson’s father gave a ball in the gallery in the sugar mill.



Facilities for worship and for education were provided on the plantation.


Satisfied with my visit to Barbreck, I felt empowered and crossed La.29 onto a heavily limestoned road. I was looking for the adjoining plantations mentioned in the historic document. Here came a pickup. Though there had been no "private road" sign, I suspected it. I stopped to allow the truck to pass. He stopped, the window came down and Joe and Roy Commando stared at me with that who the :( are you look. I had done a better introduction with Bob. He said he couldn't let me proceed because I might get shot. He didn't say "accidentally shot". I told him thank you and asked him how far was I from the bayou? Our pronunciations of the bayou's name were different, him saying "Wauksha" as "walk-sure" and mine being "wauk shaw". I then repeated it as he had said it, obediently smiling as a just tutored child. He said it was about 300 feet up the road and that I could take a picture of it but then I was to leave. He left. I took the picture, but it wasn't the bayou. I think it was a ditch or the GPS was way off.





I pulled away headed back toward the highway and suddenly a big 4 wheeled utility Kawasaki Mule was on the side of me pushing me into the ditch as if pulling a cop stop. I stopped. The driver, who appeared to be a beady eyed escapee from Deliverance, asked with a perverted, twisted grin, "Can we help you?".



Wondering what his trip was and knowing he was probably armed, I, without showing how "troubled" I was at his stupid move, told him that the guy in the disappearing pickup had said I could take a picture of the bayou. He backed off, evidently not wanting to dispute his boss's directive, and waved me on. He tried to follow me out but I had had it and dropped the throttle leaving nothing but dust for him to escort. I certainly don't mind a land owner questioning me, but don't endanger my life by playing "cops" in doing so. I know I was off course, so hold the email.



At the end of the road a lady was out by the side of her house. I stopped and asked about the old train depot. She said it had been right behind her house and that it was torn down before the rails were ripped up, her guess, sometimes in the 70's. She said she'd been there for 35 years and that her brother in law had owned Barbreck for a while but had gone bankrupt. Bob had called Barbreck, "The St.Amant Place". Her husband was a St.Amant. Small world. She said she didn't remember a mill there but there was one further down the road. She also said, when I mentioned my run in with beady eyes, that the "Private Road" sign was in the ditch.



This was the pond behind her house.







Talking to her had been a pleasant experience which defused my temper and I was able to get my act back together. I rode on up 29 to the Whiteville Methodist Church. It is very conceivable that the residents of Barbreck could have attended there. I have roamed the graveyard and there are Civil War veterans buried within.







I believe Leanna said a John Wesley Daniel was one of the owners. He was named for John Wesley who founded the Methodist Church. Click Here.



I mention this because of the stained glass window. It is of a "Circuit Rider".

You can read "1870" in reverse.







Here is an explanation from the same Wiki link.



"Two years later, in order that the preachers might work more systematically and the societies receive their services more regularly, Wesley appointed "helpers" to definitive "circuits", each of which included at least thirty appointments a month. Believing that their usefulness and efficiency were promoted by being changed from one circuit to another every year or two, he established the "itinerancy", and insisted that his preachers submit to its rules".











The last time I was at the church, little Confederate flags marked the soldier's graves. They were missed this time.







My next stop was Gold Dust. I must find the source of that name.







I knew there was a very old store next to the tracks. It was as close to the tracks as you could get in Gold Dust. This time I came into the very small community of two or three houses. A little girl was playing in her fenced yard surrounded by protective barking dogs. I asked her to get her mom or dad for me, please. A lady came out and above the howling and barking I asked her if the old building had been the depot. She said, "YES". Bingo. I asked if I could take some pictures and she said to go right ahead.



These are them. There was more to the ride that really goes with the train trail I was following so I won't put those here as I'm getting tired. Leanna has a bunch of stuff to add and that will be put here later. Here's the Gold Dust Depot/Store.







Look fast, it might not make it another year.















And around back:







From there I crossed over on 106 to the Interstate and flew south.

I got off in Washington but didn't feel like dealing with any more people so I blew off the bridge picture I wanted. I followed the "rails" into Opelousas and got a few good shots. More later, Sm.