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Louisiana Bishop Presides Over Vote That Divides the United Methodist Church

By
Lamar White, Jr.
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“We are broken people called to serve a broken people,” Bishop Cynthia Fierro Harvey of Louisiana said in a video statement produced by the United Methodist Church (UMC) in the immediate aftermath of a controversial vote that threatens to create a permanent schism among the church’s nearly 13 million members.

Last week in St. Louis, Harvey presided over the global conference’s historic vote on whether to allow individual churches to decide their own policies on LGBTQ clergy and marriage equality or whether to adopt a more punitive “Traditional Plan” that effectively bans the recognition of equal rights for LGBTQ members and increases sanctions against openly gay and lesbian ministers.

Ultimately, the Traditional Plan prevailed narrowly by a vote of 438 to 384, and as a consequence, the UMC is now reeling from what one member described as a “catastrophe.”

“There’s been a lot of hurt. A lot of people will leave here hurt, harmed, disappointed,” Harvey said.  

Cynthia Fierro Harvey, who was elected as Bishop of Louisiana in Sept. 2012, had been an outspoken supporter of the so-called “One Church Plan” and is an advocate for a more inclusive and tolerant stance on sexual orientation, but as the President Designate of the Council of Bishops, she had the unenviable assignment of overseeing a decision that she strongly opposed. “I just happened to be the person that was trying to guide the process. I was trying to help them do their best work,” she said. “Sometimes that worked, and sometimes it didn’t.”

The first-ever woman and first-ever Hispanic elected as Bishop of Louisiana, Harvey was born and raised in a small town in a remote part of West Texas, in a neighborhood she once described as being “on the wrong side of the tracks.” After graduating with a degree in journalism from the University of Texas at Austin, she spent twelve years working as a regional marketing director for the Rouse Company before earning a Master of Divinity from the Perkins School of Theology at Southern Methodist University. Today, she oversees a conference of 486 congregations and nearly 120,000 members in Louisiana.

For decades, Methodist leaders in both Texas and Louisiana have played an outsized role in the global church’s internal politics, and while other Protestant denominations in the Deep South remained adamantly conservative, the United Methodist Church was defiantly moderate and, at times, surprisingly progressive on a range of social issues. The UMC, until recently, supported the Supreme Court’s decision in Roe v. Wade; its position now is not expressly anti-choice, though it scrapped references to the controversial case. It acknowledges the scientific fact of evolution. It opposes the death penalty, and it supports stricter gun control laws. Former President George W. Bush is a Methodist, as is presidential candidate Elizabeth Warren and former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.

The UMC is the second-largest Protestant denomination in the United States and a branch of Methodism, a faith that dates back to the 18th century. Initially a subset of the Anglican Church, Methodism, which was founded by brothers John and Charles Wesley, may have begun in England, but it took root in the New World. The brothers visited Georgia in 1735, hoping to convert Native Americans; the experience informed their beliefs and the doctrine of the nascent denomination. There have been several iterations of the Methodist faith, but when The Methodist Church merged with the Evangelical United Brethren Church in 1968 in Dallas, the newly-created United Methodist Church became its largest and wealthiest contingent.

The UMC has long emphasized ecumenism over orthodoxy, which has allowed the church to be more malleable and less doctrinaire while, at the same time, committed to global expansion and missionary work.

A victim of its own success?

Last week’s vote revealed a continental divide between the growing contingency of the UMC’s international members, particularly those in Africa, and the diminishing influence of its American members. While the UMC is headquartered in the United States and more than half of its congregants are Americans, its membership in Africa has surged in recent years. Two-thirds of American delegates opposed the Traditional Plan, and the more inclusive One Church Plan had been drafted and endorsed by the UMC’s Council of Bishops.

But 43% of delegates were from overseas, primarily from Africa, where homosexuality is illegal in many countries, and they were adamantly against any proposal that could be framed as a supportive of marriage equality. They joined a small contingency of evangelical conservatives in defeating the One Church Plan.

Three years ago, when United Methodists met in Portland, Oregon for the last Global Conference, the schism seemed inevitable, as Emma Green of The Atlantic noted in “The Divided Methodist Church.” This was, in many ways, due to the UMC’s strident efforts to create a “global church.”

“In some ways, the Methodists’ problem is one of their own making: The American church has sent missionaries all over the world to spread the faith. Over time, communities abroad have become consistent voices in support of ‘traditional’ heterosexuality, while their progressive peers in the United States have gradually shifted to support gay marriage and pastors,” Green writes. “In a denomination that’s remarkably accommodating to local cultural practices, homosexuality might represent the outer limit of tolerable difference.”

Delegates punted the decision in 2016 (that same year, the Western United States District elected the very first openly gay bishop, Karen Oliveto), but three years later, even though support for an inclusive LGBTQ policy had surged in the United States, hard-line conservatives in Africa became more influential.

Delegates from Liberia were particularly outspoken; the country’s current Vice President is Jewel Howard Taylor, the ex-wife of dictator Charles Taylor, who is now serving a 50-year sentence after being found guilty by the U.N. of- as characterized by the trial judge- “aiding and abetting as well as planning some of the most heinous and brutal crimes in recorded human history.”

Jewel Taylor makes Mike Pence look tolerant. She once proposed legislation that would have made the “crime” of same-sex marriage punishable by death. In addition to her duties as Vice President, Taylor also chairs the Liberian Senate Health and Social Welfare Committee on Gender, Women, and Children.

Methodism has become a dominant force in Liberia, but it is a much different faith than the version practiced by its American adherents.

After the vote last week, a few of the delegates from Africa declared a victory over colonialism, which may strike some as absurd considering that the denomination was founded by white men in England who believed in evangelism and that the church’s presence in Africa has been largely subsidized by Americans. Regardless, this was not a vote against colonialism; it was actually a rejection of local autonomy.

In the United States, UMC leaders (of all ethnicities) are clearly in damage-control mode, hoping to reassure disaffected congregants that the issue of LGBTQ rights is not yet settled while also attempting to keep the fragile global church unified.

To that end, conference delegates narrowly voted to allow its Judicial Council the opportunity to strike down portions of the Traditional Plan they determine to be in violation of the church’s constitution. The UMC’s website reflects an unspoken truth: The church is barreling toward a split, and the global mission will likely be scaled down dramatically. It’s difficult to imagine how the UMC could be sustainable in the United States while financing and promoting bigots abroad.

There is a remote chance the Judicial Council decides to strike down the substantive portions of the Traditional Plan, and there is even a chance Louisiana and Texas could play a role: Tim Bruster, a pastor in Ft. Worth, is an alternate clergy member of the council; Bruster was born in Shreveport.

But Methodists probably shouldn’t hold their breath: The President of the UMC Judicial Council is N. Oswald Tweh, a prominent lay leader from Monrovia, Liberia.

Full disclosure: While I did not interview Bishop Harvey for this article, I met her briefly after she delivered a eulogy at my paternal grandfather’s funeral last year; he had once been a “district lay leader” for the United Methodist Church. Like Harvey, I also earned a graduate degree from SMU. Oh, and we were both born on Cinco de Mayo.

District Director for U.S. Rep. Clay Higgins at the Center of Alleged Human Trafficking Ring

By
Lamar White, Jr.
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Pictured above: Pingjuan Xia and Jerod Prunty at D.C. Mardi Gras (Source: @PutLouisiana1st, Twitter), Xia and Prunty were arrested in Feb. 2019 (Source: Lafayette Parish Sheriff’s Department).

Clay Higgins (R- LA-03) reintroduced himself to the nation last week, swapping out his “Cajun John Wayne” costume with an oversized vest and tie and using his perch on the House Oversight Committee to ask former Trump fixer and personal lawyer Michael Cohen a series of baffling questions that made it abundantly clear the congressman had not done his homework.

“Clay Higgins questioning Cohen and attending his senior prom in the same day,” joked Aaron Eisenberg on Twitter.

In fact, Higgins claimed he never really even knew of Cohen until that very morning, which may seem utterly impossible to believe about any sentient American adult, let alone any member of Congress.

But for those who have followed Higgins’s career and ascendance to elected office, his sartorial choices are unsurprising, and his claim of ignorance is plausible.

Higgins capped off the day with an appearance on CNN, carrying with him a six-pack of Yuengling that he pledged to split with anchor Chris Cuomo. (Last year, in an interview with LaPolitics, Higgins consumed multiple beers while on camera).



During the Cohen hearing, Higgins, a former sheriff’s deputy who first rose to fame after a series of Crime Stoppers videos he recorded went viral online, said, among other things, that he had arrested “thousands of men” during his stints with the tiny Opelousas Police Department and St. Landry Sheriff’s Department. The claim was so manifestly absurd that it was impossible not to take the bait: Almost immediately, the Louisiana Democratic Party pounced and filed a series of public records requests with his former employers.

It was also particularly ironic.

Only a week before, one of the congressman’s top aides, District Director Jerod Prunty, tendered his resignation after being charged and arrested with two counts of “pandering,” which, as it is apparently being applied in this situation, is a euphemism for human trafficking. The state’s most recent iteration of the statutory definition of pandering dates back to 1978; it provides for significant civil penalties and mandatory jail time. The statutes on human trafficking were only codified in 2005 and are effectively a way to heighten penalties in certain circumstances, particularly when a victim is under the age of 21. La. Rev. Stat. § 14:84(A) defines pandering as “any of the following intentional acts”:

(1) Enticing, placing, persuading, encouraging, or causing the entrance of any person into the practice of prostitution, either by force, threats, promises, or by any other device or scheme.

(2) Maintaining a place where prostitution is habitually practiced.

(3) Detaining any person in any place of prostitution by force, threats, promises, or by any other device or scheme.

(4) Receiving or accepting by a person as a substantial part of support or maintenance anything of value which is known to be from the earnings of any person engaged in prostitution.

(5) Consenting, on the part of any parent or tutor of any person, to the person’s entrance or detention in the practice of prostitution.

(6) Transporting any person from one place to another for the purpose of promoting the practice of prostitution.

Prunty’s arrest was the result of an expansive, 17-month long investigation undertaken by the Lafayette Sheriff’s Department. “Deputies served warrants at five massage parlors and three residences in a coordinated sting on Feb. 12, (Sheriff Mark) Garber said,” according to The Daily Advertiser. “The raid was the result of the first phase of the investigation, he said, and it’s not over.”

Prunty was one of nine people charged and arrested as a part of the investigation, which also resulted in the seizure of $50,000 in cash and multiple vehicles, and he appears to have been closely involved in the alleged operation. He shares a home on the 200 block of Chimney Rock Boulevard in Lafayette with another one of the alleged co-conspirators, Pingjuan Xia, who was booked on charges of “pandering, prostitution by massage and massage parlor prohibited sexual conduct,” according to The Advocate.

Late Saturday, an anonymous Twitter account, @PutLouisiana1st, posted a photograph the user claimed to be of Xia and Prunty together at D.C. Mardi Gras.



The Bayou Brief independently confirmed the photograph’s authenticity but has, thus far, been unable to ascertain whether it was taken in 2018 or 2019. We have no knowledge of the identity of the person or persons behind @PutLouisiana1st, which, curiously, only follows one account on Twitter, Louisiana state Rep. Chad Brown, a Republican from Plaquemine. (Update: They have since unfollowed state Rep. Brown).

Regardless of whether it was taken this year or last year, the photograph suggests that Xia and Prunty were more than roommates and that Prunty used his contacts and his position as a congressional staffer to introduce Xia to some of the most politically powerful officials and most influential lobbyists in Louisiana, while they were both under investigation for their involvement in a human trafficking ring.

Rep. Higgins may have only learned about Michael Cohen last week, but he must have known who Pingjuan Xia was for months, if not years, prior to her arrest. And of course, he hired Jerod Prunty, who, like Higgins, is a former sheriff’s deputy.

We also reached out to attorney Josh Guillory, who is referenced in the tweet and who ran against Higgins, a fellow Republican, last year. Guillory had been completely unfamiliar with the details of the allegations, but he expressed his total confidence in the men and women conducting the investigation. “I trust in the judicial system,” he said. “This will work itself out.”

There are reasons to believe that Higgins’s office is currently in full-on panic mode, though the cause for concern has little to do with Higgins’s cameo performance during the Cohen hearing. The worry, instead, is about how, exactly, “this will work itself out.”

DeSoto Parish Emergency: All Out Of Funds

By
Sue Lincoln
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What’s going on with the DeSoto Parish gas emergency?

Officially? Nothing.

The fund used for investigating and remediating problems like this is tapped out. Empty.

Actually, it’s less than empty. It’s overdrawn by 1.2 million dollars.

You see, a new emergency came up this fall: EMER 19-003. This one, in Lafourche Parish, involved out-of-control gas and flames and ended up requiring the services of wild well experts, at a total cost in excess of $3-million. That well, #213022, originally drilled in 1991 in the Lafourche Parish Valentine Field, has now been certified as “plugged and abandoned”, effective January 24.

It’s good to have that problem resolved, although it’s just one well of the nearly 3900 “orphan” wellsites currently awaiting state action. That’s a total that grows monthly, even as total funding for the remediation program has remained relatively stagnant.

The Oilfield Site Restoration Program was created in 1993, in response to the late 1980s oil bust, and was one of the first programs in the nation to address the problem of derelict wellsites. Officially, it charges the Department of Natural Resources, through its Office of Conservation, with the task of “properly plugging and abandoning wells for which no viable responsible party can be located” or for which “such party has failed to maintain the wellsite in accordance with state rules and regulations.”

Early on in the program, many of the wellsites ended up in state hands due to drillers’ business reversals or failures, cloudy record-keeping or cloudy inheritances. Some have been taken by the state – confiscated as punishment – for failure to follow the rules. And while the OSR program has steadily cleaned up and rendered oil and gas wellsites “safe” again year after year, the numbers of new leaking, spilling, and emitting wells annually being added to the state list is about double the number of sites that are getting cleaned up.

As noted in a 2014 Louisiana Legislative Auditor’s report, that’s because “Financial security amounts outlined in regulations are not sufficient to cover the cost of plugging most wells. Not requiring sufficient financial security amounts may provide an incentive for operators to abandon their wells since forfeiting the financial security may be more economical than paying plugging costs.”

Despite being one of the first states to establish an oil and gas wellsite remediation program, Louisiana as one of the last fossil-fuel extracting states to establish financial security requirements for drillers. While other states put those types of rules in place in the

1940s and 1950s, Louisiana didn’t set up financial security requirements until 2000, and those only applied to select categories of drillers. If they were a new company (less than 4 years old), or had a recent history (within the previous 4 years) of violations or giving over wellsites for state remediation, they had to put up security.

In response to the 2014 audit, state lawmakers instituted new security requirements in 2015, mandating a bond be posted for each and every well that changes hands. Small operators pitched a hissy fit, and in August 2015 DNR’s Office of Conservation Attorney John Adams told a Shreveport meeting of drillers and operators he agreed with their concerns.

“Because the restoration program already pays for the state’s abandoned wells, there should be no need for financial security requirements to ease the financial burden for Louisiana to do so,” Adams stated then.

In other words, well operators should not have to put up money to guarantee they won’t leave the environment a mess, since the state has a program that will ultimately clean up any mess they leave behind.

In 2016, the Legislature rolled back those requirements, changing the law to place the requiring of financial security at “the discretion of the Commissioner of the Office of Conservation.” In that same session, though, lawmakers put the Oilfield Site Restoration Fund statutorily out of reach from money grabs.

The OSR Fund, also called the “Orphan Wells Fund”, does not come directly from state taxes. It is generated from fees paid quarterly by oil and gas well operators – 1.5 cents for each barrel of oil produced, and three-tenths of a cent for every thousand cubic feet of natural gas produced. All together, the fees have provided about $4 million to use annually, for safely sealing off wells no longer in use.

Yet despite being fee-generated, the OSR Fund was a target of the Jindal-era funds sweeps, which balanced the state budget through “robbing Peter to pay Paul”, i.e., grabbing money from various accounts to fill in the funding gaps and give the illusion there was no imbalance. In FY 2009, $277-thousand was swept from the OSR Fund. In FY 2012, it was $260-thousand. And in FY 2016 – Jindal’s last budget which was revealed to be $2-billion short of what was actually needed to fund state government – $484-thousand had been grabbed from the fund and put to other uses. And note, the moneys were taken out of the fund and put to other uses throughout the recession, when businesses of all types – including oil and gas drillers – were going belly-up.

That certainly contributed to the OSR Fund’s inability to keep pace with the annual influx of new orphaned wells. Another problem was the fee structure itself – in particular, the fact that the fees well operators pay into OSR are linked to each well’s production via severance tax reporting. And in the case of deep horizontal fracked wells, there’s an exemption from paying ANY severance tax for the first two years of production. Fracked well operators, like those in the Haynesville Shale, had not been paying fees into the OSR Fund to help cover the cost of environmental issues they’re creating – like the DeSoto Parish emergency. Legislation passed in 2017 remedied that by unlinking OSR fees from severance taxes collected.

That is now adding another $1.3-million to the OSR Fund annually.

But back to the current deficit in the fund…

Imagine this: Your company has been a target in a year-and-a-half-long FBI investigation. You’ve cooperated with the authorities, so they have let you continue doing business – despite the fact that the source of the continuing criminal activity appears to be within your business. Then you get a letter from the FBI that says, “We’ve spent all our investigation funding for this year, so we have to stop working on your case…unless, of course, you want to put up the money for us to keep investigating you?”

Sounds laughable…ludicrous…absurd, doesn’t it?

Yet that is analogous to the current status with the on-going gas emergency, EMER 18-003, in the Bethany-Longstreet area of DeSoto Parish.

With the Oilfield Site Restoration Fund now overdrawn by $1.2-million, DNR’s Office of Conservation has sent letters to the gas drillers operating in the area, saying,

“Due to the funding constraints, additional work activity in this area may not continue until after the start of the new fiscal year on July 1, 2019 – unless voluntary contributions are received to continue and complete the gas source well/migration pathway investigation. The Office of Conservation is sure that you share our desire to maintain the progress made to date in containing and eventually halting the migration of natural gas into the aquifer, and bringing the threat to public safety to an end.”

This is a “threat to public safety”, so ante up.

Go fund us.

Just guessing here, but Office of Conservation attorney John Adams’ August 2015 words to northwest Louisiana’s drilling operators might be haunting about now: “Because the restoration program already pays for the state’s abandoned wells, there should be no need for financial security requirements to ease the financial burden for Louisiana to do so.”

Since October, the investigation has been concentrated on the Bessie McMichael gas well in section 27 of 13N, 15W — the center of the nine-square-mile “area of concern.” That well, SN 109699, is named in the lawsuit has being problematic. Completed in August 1965, at a depth of 6993 feet, it was plugged with 30 sacks of concrete in December 1968, and declared “abandoned.”

Yet in October, Elm Springs, the contractor DNR hired to handle this emergency, reopened the well and has been conducting tests. The McMichael well proved not to be the source of the migrating gas, and they’ve replugged the well – the last work the state can authorize around this emergency until the start of the next budget year July 1.

And despite every effort by DNR officials to claim the problem is “contained” within the 9 section area of 13N, 15W (remember: they’ve also insisted the situation is all “under control”), they know the manifestations of the gas-charged aquifer extend to the next plat east: 13N, 14W, as there are now reports of problems manifesting around the Ford wells, in that plat’s section 31.

Kenny Knight Keelhauled: The Past Is Never Dead.

By
Lamar White, Jr.
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In the early morning hours of Nov. 9th, 2016, as the nation learned that Donald Trump had defied the odds and, despite losing by a staggering three million votes nationally, had won the Electoral College and therefore the presidency through cobbling together a 77,000 vote victory in three critical swing states- Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, and Michigan, those in Louisiana were reminded, once again, that a ghost continues to haunt the state’s politics.

David Duke, the former grand wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, was also on the ballot that November, hoping to ride Trump’s coattails into a surprise win in his third attempt for a seat in the U.S. Senate.

In 1990, the first time Duke campaigned for the Senate, he finished second, losing to J. Bennett Johnston, the incumbent Democrat, by nearly 10 points. Despite his loss, it was clear that Duke, then a freshman state representative, had become a powerful political force: He won 60% of white voters. The next year, he secured a spot in the runoff for Louisiana governor in the most consequential election in modern state history. Once again, Duke lost by a landslide, yet he still won the majority- 55%- of white voters.

Establishment Republicans were baffled and horrified by Duke’s popularity in Louisiana. Former President Ronald Reagan had recorded a phone message opposing Duke when he first emerged as a candidate for state representative in 1989, as did Reagan’s successor, then-President George H.W. Bush. Their messages fell on deaf ears. A decade later, Duke was back on the ballot, this time running for the U.S. House, and Jim Nicholson, who was then serving as the chairman of the Republican National Committee and who later served as Secretary of Veterans Affairs, pulled no punches.

Duke narrowly missed the runoff that year; ultimately, voters chose an Ivy League-educated Rhodes Scholar, a state representative named David Vitter.

By 2016, Duke was finally relegated to the fringes of state politics, even though he had again become the subject of extensive national attention. This time, the attention had nothing to do with his own campaign; Duke was back in the spotlight because of his effusive support for Donald Trump and because of Trump’s initial reluctance to denounce him.

Duke never ran a competitive campaign, which was largely propped up by out-of-state donations, but, according to Raycom, he had still pulled in enough support to qualify for their one and only televised debate. That debate was a disaster and, to many, evidence of a recklessly negligent corporate media. Raycom, which sold its interests in Louisiana in 2018, used a poll that placed Duke at 5.1% statewide to justify his inclusion; the poll had a 3.9% margin of error. Col. Rob Maness missed the cut, but David Duke made it.

During those early morning hours in November of 2016, it became clear that the poll on which Raycom relied was an imprecise snapshot of the electorate: Maness finished ahead of Duke by 1.7 points. Neither of them garnered the magic threshold of 5.0%: Duke ended with 3.0% of the vote; Maness earned 4.7%.

Still, it is worth noting that Duke’s three points comprised 58,606 votes, more than enough to deprive third-place finisher Charles Boustany a spot in the runoff. Put another way, David Duke received more votes, in total, than any of his competitors received individually in the state’s most populated parishes. 5,000 more people voted for David Duke statewide than voted in total in Rapides Parish. While he finished a distant seventh place, on a parish-by-parish basis, David Duke was undeniably a factor. (Former Congressman Joseph Cao, a Republican, was also on the ballot; Duke captured 37,000 more votes than Cao).

Last week, one of the principal architects of David Duke’s political machine was sentenced to five years in jail for operating an illegal “pill mill,” Axcess Medical Clinic, in New Orleans East. Kenny Knight had pleaded guilty more than a year ago to illegally dispensing opioids out of the clinic. At least three deaths have been associated with the clinic, according to The Advocate.

U.S. District Judge Barry Ashe is sworn into office in January 2019. Source: Tulane University.

Knight had begged for leniency, but in his first major decision since taking the bench last month, U.S. District Judge Barry Ashe, a Trump appointee, was unpersuaded. Judge Ashe gave him the maximum sentence, 60 months, twice as long as Barbara Bruce, the physician who conspired with Knight, had received.

Despite his decades-long friendship and professional relationship with David Duke, Kenny Knight had dwindled into relative obscurity until he resurfaced in the wake of my report, in late December of 2014, that Congressman Steve Scalise had attended and spoken at an “international conference” hosted by the European-American Unity and Rights Organization (EURO), a white supremacist hate group, when Scalise was still a member of the Louisiana state legislature.

At least initially, Knight had been able to dupe some in the media into reporting that Scalise had actually attended a neighborhood association meeting, a claim that conservative pundits attempted to use to discredit my reporting or, at the very least, to create some ambiguity.

However, the neighborhood association Knight referenced does not and has never existed. It was not difficult to discover that Knight had been listed online as the hate group’s point of contact and had previously represented himself as the group’s founding treasurer in official filings with the Louisiana Secretary of State. Moreover, the group distributed a newsletter that included a photograph of Kenny Knight at the conference (Knight said he had left with Scalise after the conclusion of the neighborhood association meeting).

Steve Scalise acknowledged and apologized for his attendance and managed to hold onto his leadership position in Congress. As we now know, Kenny Knight was engaged in an extensive and illegal conspiracy to dispense opioids through a phony, cash-only medical clinic. According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, David Duke continued to publicly associate himself with Kenny Knight, selling EURO t-shirts and referencing Knight on his website as recently as November of 2017. “Beyond racist activities, Duke and Knight do apparently have one thing in common,” the SPLC notes. “They’ll sell most anything to make a buck.”

Two days before Judge Ashe rendered his decision, Scott Wilfong, an official with the Louisiana Republican Party, appeared on Jim Engster’s “Talk Louisiana” and made headlines by throwing a bucket of ice cold water on the two Republicans, Eddie Rispone and Ralph Abraham, currently challenging Gov. John Bel Edwards.

“Are we done? Is this the field? I definitely know there is a movement to get another candidate in this race,” Wilfong said.

According to two sources with direct knowledge of the “movement” Wilfong referenced, while the word “movement” is an absurd exaggeration, it is true that, during the past three weeks, a small handful of Republican operatives and financial backers have been pleading with Steve Scalise to reconsider his decision to remain in leadership in Congress. Scalise had previously ruled out a run for governor, but he has not yet affirmatively dismissed the recent entreaties.

“I think he is happy to make Democrats worry about him,” one source told me, “but he doesn’t want to be governor. He wants to be Speaker of the House. The only way to do that- really- is by remaining in the House and playing the long game.”

It requires a certain type of shrewd political instincts to ascend to the speakership, and paramount to that is projecting stability and commitment to your colleagues and power and influence to your constituents back home. At 53, Steve Scalise is nearly two decades younger than the current President of the United States and 25 years younger than the current Speaker of the House. Measured against them, Scalise still has an eternity left in politics.

Scalise, who once called himself “David Duke without the baggage,” is also well-aware of the ways in which any association with Duke carries baggage. We are not yet far enough removed from the era of David Duke to dismiss his influence, even it exists only on the margins. David Duke, after all, is four years younger than the President of the United States.

“The past is never dead,” William Faulkner once wrote. “It’s not even past.”

The Zulu Conundrum

By
Peter Athas
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Publisher’s Note: Peter’s commentary was written prior to the demonstrations by Take ‘Em Down Nola. We were closed for maintenance for the past week, and we hope to soon debut an updated, easier-to-navigate template.

I didn’t set out to be the Bayou Brief’s resident New Orleans Carnival guy, but this is the third time I’ve written about it. The first column involved how Chads and Lost Causers have changed Carnival for the worse. The second piece was a personal reflection on my Krewe du Vieux membership. This piece is the most difficult and sensitive one I’ve ever written about Carnival. Carnival is about fun and games; this column is deadly serious with fewer jokes than usual. Not everything is funny, even to a self-proclaimed satirist like me.

Unless you’ve been hiding under the bed, you’re aware that there’s been a national conversation about blackface. Thus far it’s focused on white Virginia politicians, but blackface is depressingly ubiquitous, especially in the Deep South. Blackface is a practice that went mainstream in the bad old days of Jim Crow and segregation. Its show biz form was called blackface minstrelsy. It was a staple of the entertainment scene before World War II when superstars such as Al Jolson, Cary Grant, Fred Astaire, and Judy Garland among others “blacked up.” Blackface started to become socially unacceptable among enlightened Americans after the war against Nazi racism and genocide. And anti-blackface sentiment accelerated as the Civil Rights movement gained a full head of steam in the 1950’s and ’60’s.

This revulsion against blackface was shared by many black New Orleanians at the peak of the mid-century Civil Rights era; so much so that the subject of this column, the Krewe of Zulu, abandoned the practice from 1965 to 1966 as you can see from pictures posted on Twitter by Picayune food writer Todd Price:

My first New Orleans Carnival was in 1988. I had heard of the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club before moving here but was shocked to see that they still wore blackface. The krewe’s rationale is that they “black up” as a parody of the rich white folks in the Krewe of Rex. I never found that explanation satisfactory and remained personally uneasy but opted to respect the unique and quirky traditions of my adopted hometown. Besides, who among us doesn’t want to catch a Zulu cocoanut on Mardi Gras day?

A few years after Katrina and the Federal Flood, a Zulu member friend offered me a chance to guest ride. I was initially excited by the prospect but asked a threshold question: “Do I have to wear blackface?” I was told that it was mandatory. I politely but firmly declined the offer. While I don’t judge other white people who have done so, there’s no way I would wear blackface. I know too much about the history of the practice to go along just to get along.

Outside of New Orleans, it’s not widely known that up to 20% of Zulu members are white. White members in blackface have faced issues with people unfamiliar with the quirky folkways of our Carnival. The co-founder of Tales of the Cocktail, Ann Tuennerman faced controversy over her husband Paul posting pictures and videos of her on Facebook while “blacked up” for Zulu. After a national outcry on social media, the Tuennermans were obliged to resign from a business that they founded.

There’s a little-known incident involving a prominent national journalist who rode in Zulu after the storm. My trusty source Deep Blog informs me that the “reporter as rider” balked at wearing blackface; saying quite correctly that it would ruin her career. She was allowed to ride without “blacking up,” but Deep Blog tells me that many krewe members grumbled about making such an exception. 

How can wearing blackface in Zulu be benign when it can destroy careers?

That brings me to the state of play in 2019. Zulu has been under intense pressure to explain its position, which it finally did in a lengthy and defensive statement. I was particularly struck by their attempt to explain the difference between blackface and black makeup:

 “Unfortunately, the offensive conduct of these individuals might cause some to confuse those racist actions with our rich history and traditions – which include wearing black makeup during the Zulu parade. Those who incorrectly compare our use of black makeup to ‘blackface’ minstrelsy can first look to our name to dispel that notion. Unlike minstrelsy, which was designed to ridicule and mock Black people, the founders of our Social Aid & Pleasure Club chose the name “Zulu” to honor their African ancestry and the continent’s most fierce warriors.”

I met a bona fide member of the Zulu tribe when I was a student at Tulane Law School. He was a visiting South African law student who saw the Zulu parade and felt that it mocked and demeaned his people. He was not honored by people in blackface wearing grass skirts and waving plastic spears. He told me that the costumes looked straight out of a Tarzan or Jungle Jim movie. That’s just one Zulu’s opinion but it was strongly held.

As to the difference between “blackface” and “black makeup” that strikes me as a distinction without a difference. There *is* a subtle stylistic difference but the impact is the same as former New Orleans City Council President Oliver Thomas pointed out in a fine piece about blackface by NOLA.COM columnist, Jarvis DeBerry who is African American:

“All over the country, people who’ve worn blackface are being called out for it, no matter how many years ago they exhibited that stupidity.

What, if anything, does that mean for the New Orleans group that has been using blackface openly and without apology?

Former New Orleans City Councilman Oliver Thomas, who hosts the “Good Morning Show” on WBOK-AM1230, asked his listeners that question Feb. 6. Thomas brought up Zulu, he later said, because he knew Zulu would be called to account for its tradition.

Thomas — who has participated in at least one Zulu parade and, thus, blackened his own face — said he didn’t find any of the callers’ arguments in favor of blackface persuasive. He also admits that in order for him to put the paint on his face, he had to ignore a voice inside him telling him he shouldn’t do it.

Even if he were to concede the point, he told his listeners, that black people blackening their faces is different than white people blackening their faces, how can it be OK at this point for white Zulu members to paint their faces black but not OK for white people who aren’t?”

I originally considered taking a moderate somewhat mushy position on the issue of Zulu blackface: that it was marginally okay for black members to do it but that white Zulus should wear white face in racial self-parody. I’m a middle-aged white dude and I was reluctant to offer unsolicited advice to a private predominantly African-American organization. But Jarvis DeBerry’s outstanding column jarred me into taking a more forthright stance. The quotes in the piece from my former councilman, Oliver Thomas, and Take ‘Em Down NOLA leader Malcolm Suber who are both African American also stiffened my spine. A stereotype is a stereotype is a stereotype regardless of who’s doing it.

Whatever the merits of the original arguments in favor of Zulu wearing blackface, black makeup, or whatever euphemism you prefer, time has passed them by. Satire, too, must grow and evolve. For example, it used to be socially acceptable to use ugly stereotypes about other ethnic groups. Try watching an old movie with a white actor playing a “Chinaman” be they as wise as Confucius or the butt of jokes; either stereotype is ugly and demeaning. The same goes for the “lazy Mexican” jokes that passed for humor in my youth even though some of them were told by Latin comedians. I won’t even discuss the work of early black movie comedians such as Stepin Fetchit and Mantan Moreland.  A stereotype is a stereotype is a stereotype regardless of who’s doing it.

Ugly racial and ethnic stereotypes used to permeate even higher forms of popular entertainment. We’ve all discussed the racism and Lost Causerism spouted in the Oscar winning movie classic, Gone with the Wind. Try watching David Lean’s 1948 film version of Oliver Twist without cringing over Alec Guinness’ portrayal of Fagin as a compendium of Jewish stereotypes that Josef Goebbels would have found familiar. And that’s one of the greatest actors and film directors of all-time purveying stereotypes that would have been at home in the anti-Semitic Nazi film, Jew Suss. A stereotype is a stereotype is a stereotype regardless of who’s doing it.

Carnival is a form of entertainment. In the abstract, it would be better if entertainment were free of politics and disconnected from the real world. Life doesn’t work that way; just think of the Kaepernick-NFL faceoff. Some of the arguments made on behalf of Zulu blackface by white people are analogous to white comedians who want to say the N word and claim that it’s okay because their intentions are good. It’s not: a stereotype is a stereotype is a stereotype regardless of who’s doing it.

One of the best arguments against the continued wearing of blackface is the company it obliges Zulu to keep. There are several groups who favor rather unsavory Carnival “traditions” that have supported Zulu’s stubborn stand in favor of its blackface tradition. Among them are the Lost Causers of Forever Lee Circle:

The rest of that Facebook page is filled with Lee worship, Lincoln hate, and assorted bigoted bon mots. Do I think Zulu approves of the Lost Causers? Absolutely not. But one must be careful of the company one keeps, and Lost Causers are bad company. They’re the descendants of the night riders, not freed slaves or free people of color,

In the end, I’m just one pundit with an opinion. I suspect that some of the love I got for my Krewe du Vieux piece will be replaced with vitriol. But I want people to open their minds and think about this issue in a broader context. It’s easy to be hyper local and dismissive of the serious concerns raised by blackface in 2019 but it’s unwise. Just imagine trying to explain this aspect of Zulu to people who live in other parts of the country. As much as we wish we lived in a Carnival bubble, we do not.

Zulu is gonna Zulu, but I hope they eventually open their minds to changing with the times. As a member of the Carnival community myself, I have a lot of respect and affection for the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club. It’s the most diverse group in Carnival and its members are good people who put on a great show for the people of our city. But with popularity comes responsibility. I hope they’ll listen to the dissenting voices and roll back their parade to 1965 and 1966 and heed the title of Jarvis DeBerry’s brilliant column: “The Zulu Club once scrubbed off the blackface; can it be convinced to do so again?”

I sincerely hope so. The world has changed, and the joke isn’t funny anymore. They’re working a tougher room in 2019 than in 1909. That calls for new material.


As the Deep South confronts Confederate monuments, a small town in Louisiana honors a Union General

By
Lamar White, Jr.
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“One damn blunder from beginning to end”

Within only an hour, between 8AM to 9AM on May 13th, 1864, as a part of the so-called Red River Campaign and under the direction of Union Army General Nathaniel Banks, approximately 35,000 of his troops burned 90% of my hometown of Alexandria, Louisiana to the ground. The city, once Louisiana’s second-most populated, had actually surrendered to the Union four days prior, which should not have struck anyone as particularly surprising,  

Despite its time and location in the geographic center of Louisiana, Alexandria was a disproportionately, albeit unofficially, pro-Union town. Perhaps put more succinctly, Alexandrians were more concerned with winning business than in winning any war, and the town’s destruction by Banks was seen as an epic disaster by his superiors. Banks was subsequently removed from his command, and by destroying Alexandria, he ensured the Red River remained firmly under Confederate control.

Union Major General William Tecumseh Sherman characterized Banks’s command of the Red River Campaign as “one damn blunder from beginning to end.” Sherman had a special affinity for Alexandria; he’d lived there when he was selected as the founding superintendent of a small academy across the river in Pineville that would eventually become known as Louisiana State University.

Alexandria, Louisiana ca 1860
The burning of Alexandria, Louisiana. May 13, 1864.
A line of steamships on the banks of the Red River in downtown Alexandria ca 1860.

Yesterday, in the small town of Pineville, Louisiana, a group of dignitaries, local elected officials, historic preservationists, and the President of Louisiana State University, F. King Alexander, gathered to witness the unveiling of what many would understandably characterize as a road sign.

But given its subject matter, the sign- technically a historical marker- made it a much more significant ceremony than one could have imagined only six years ago. 

Over the course of those six years, I have followed and, in some small way, facilitated the installation of this particular historic marker.

It is a story I immediately found fascinating because of its subject, its location, the unique coalition that had proposed and championed it, and the ways in which it forces Southerners and students of American history to consider the numerous complications, contradictions, and consequences of the Civil War.

I do not and have never considered myself to be a subject-matter expert on the Civil War, but during the past two decades, I have had the unique opportunity to become a scholar of the history, the land, and the people of my hometown. Perhaps even more importantly, I was able to follow this particular story from the very beginning, and because of what occurred yesterday, it is now a story ripe to be told.  

The Most Valuable Real Estate in America

“Do you know what the single-most expensive piece of real estate is in the country?” James Carville asked a packed room of Rotarians gathered in Alexandria City Hall. I’d taken the drive up to Alexandria with Carville that morning. It was an Election Day, actually, Nov. 7th, 2017.

James Carville speaks at the Nov 7, 2017 Alexandria Rotary Club meeting.

For most of our journey to Alexandria and then back to New Orleans, I had the unique fortune of witnessing the Ragin Cajun work the phones as the reports began to spill in about a Democratic landslide in Virginia, the highlight of which was the election of Danica Roem, and as people on-the-ground were cautiously optimistic that Doug Jones would indeed pull off a miracle in Alabama.

But I already knew the answer to Carville’s rhetorical question, because I’d heard him repeat the line on the drive up.

He brought his laptop with him, so that he could show the assembled Rotarians a few pictures he’d made into a slideshow. When he got to that question, he revealed the answer.   

“Central Park in New York City, directly across from the Plaza Hotel,” he said. “It’s a monument to General William Tecumseh Sherman.”

I have no way of independently verifying whether or not this particular patch of land is, in fact, the most expensive in the country. To borrow from the parlance of realtors and appraisers, there simply isn’t a “comp.” But it’s as good of an answer to what, ultimately, is a rhetorical question than I’d ever heard. 

The monument, shimmering in bright gold, is opulent and elegant at the same time, a combination that the former owner of the Plaza Hotel and current President of the United States has repeatedly attempted and failed to replicate.

It’s stunning, as is the monument to Sherman in Washington D.C. 

Make no mistake, though, Carville was not there to sell locals on a historical marker in Pineville, and he was not suggesting property values would increase if only we erected more ornamental statues. His point was simple: If New York is willing to give Sherman the most prime real estate in the country, why was it still so difficult for LSU to acknowledge they were founded by- gasp- a Union Major General? Carville had been lobbying for a more formal recognition on the school’s main campus- renaming the field grounds or a street, something ministerial, inexpensive, and entirely symbolic- in Baton Rouge since early April, and, suffice it to say, his provocative idea wasn’t universally embraced.

But it caught the attention of a friend of mine, Alexandria attorney and Pineville resident Mike Tudor. He asked if I could help convince Carville to challenge the Alexandria Rotary Club to consider the local significance of Sherman as a part of a larger discussion on monuments, and perhaps unsurprisingly, he was up for the challenge. 

Only a few months before our brief visit to my hometown of Alexandria, New Orleans Mayor Mitch Landrieu had ensured that four monuments to the Lost Cause were finally vanquished. On May 19th, the statue of Robert E. Lee was hoisted off its alabaster pedestal and what became its petard- a city that celebrates a vibrant and diverse democracy Lee had fought against.

For a few brief minutes, the entire city of New Orleans either witnessed personally or watched on television as this visage of Lee swung clumsily from its perch and descended ignobly back to the ground and was then whisked away, forever out of sight, in the flatbed of a pickup truck.

It was the final, major symbolic defeat against those who were still fighting for the Lost Cause and who believed the deification of men who betrayed their nation in order to maintain the horrific system of slavery- America’s “original sin”- was somehow a relevant and appropriate way to curate history.

Saints and Sinners, Falcons and Tigers

Given the context, it may strike some as astonishingly ironic, perhaps even hypocritical, that while we debated the merits of removing monuments either intended to glorify white supremacy or excuse the brutalities of the Civil War, there was a small group of people, including James Carville, who championed the recognition of a leader that most whites in the Deep South regarded as deplorable: Union Major General William Tecumseh Sherman, the man responsible for destroying Atlanta, a type of warfare we now simply call “scorched earth,” before his infamous March to the Sea.

Sherman was brutal and cruel and murderous. 

He is not a sympathetic character, as his own biographers acknowledge. Yet his outsized influence in the life and legacy in Louisiana cannot be ignored, though it also should not be glorified either.

The city he destroyed, Atlanta, has proven itself to be resourceful and is now a vibrant hub for African Americans entrepreneurs, innovators, and musicians; it became the epicenter of the civil rights movement. After Banks burned Alexandria to the ground, he worked in New Orleans and helped to enshrine and protect the rights of African Americans during Reconstruction.

Today, both Atlanta and New Orleans are led by black women, and New Orleans, against profound odds, remains a global treasure and the nation’s best example of cultural resilience.

Alexandria never regained the same prominence it once had, but for the past two decades, it has asserted itself as a leader in progressive policymaking; last year, the city elected its first-ever African American mayor.

“History did not end in 1965.”

As far as I can tell, the first time I wrote online about Sherman’s connections to my hometown was on Nov. 7th, 2013, exactly four years to the date of Carville’s speech to the Alexandria Rotary Club. I was responding to a reader who criticized the film 12 Years a Slave, which was set and based on Solomon Northup’s experiences as a free man who had been captured and enslaved in Central Louisiana. The reader was upset the film unfairly (or too realistically) depicted the brutality of slavery.

Here’s what I wrote then:

There are only five scenes of violence in the entire movie, and all told, those scenes take up less than ten minutes of a 134 minute-long film. No doubt, those scenes are each jarring, and McQueen’s direction was unflinching. But they are all powerful, important, and necessary in understanding Solomon’s experience.

As a white man born and raised in Central Louisiana, the setting for most of the film, I have heard, for much of my life, a variation of the argument you seem to be making: That when we tell the history of American slavery, we must somehow “balance” the brutality of the institution with the stories of noble white folks who also fought against it, that an uncompromising depiction of the brutality of slavery may somehow foster hatred against white Southerners of today, that a film like this only throws salt into the wounds that we’ve been trying to heal for more than 150 years.

To that, I guess my response is: So be it. Obviously, not every white person in the American South supported slavery. My hometown, Alexandria, was actually founded by Northerners and, prior to the Civil War, was home to a large number of abolitionists, including William Tecumseh Sherman. Yes, the truth is complicated and nuanced, but that, in and of itself, doesn’t provide us with any rationale in denying or censoring or “balancing” our presentation of past atrocities with feel-good or redemptive anecdotes or soaring, uplifting music.

If, as you suggest, people in the North watch this film and take away from it that white folks in rural Louisiana are all and have always been evil racists, then they are guilty of misappropriating a brilliant movie in order to justify their own ignorance and misplaced sense of cultural superiority.

But honestly, I don’t think that is likely at all. What I hope, instead, is that people will see this and contemplate how the legacy of slavery continues to affect our entire country, the ways in which multi-generational, institutionalized discrimination relates to education, social class, privilege, access to health care, and incarceration rates.

In his opinion striking down part of the Voting Rights Act, Chief Justice John Roberts wrote, “History did not end in 1965,” implying that America no longer tolerates institutionalized discrimination. A few weeks later, more than a dozen states, mainly in the South, began introducing legislation aimed at burdening older, primarily minority Americans from voting.

No, history didn’t end in 1865 or in 1965, but those, like Chief Justice Roberts, who glibly and naively deny the reality of institutionalized discrimination are not living in the present; they’re living in a privileged bubble.

So, I applaud 12 Years a Slave for forcing a conversation. It may make some folks uncomfortable, but it’s long overdue.

I stand by those remarks, and I applaud civic leaders like Mayor Clarence Fields, Charles Charrier, Megan Lord, and particularly Mike Tudor who understood that a historic marker was the appropriate honor and that monuments built for men- and not ideas– too often take up valuable public spaces.

Mike Tudor.


As a postscript, James Carville has another proposal for LSU, and it would also require little money but carry substantial meaning: Rename this building after Dutch Morial, the very first African American to earn a law degree from Louisiana’s flagship institution. 

 

Confessions of a Krewe du Vieux Member

By
Peter Athas
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Satire has been a part of Carnival in New Orleans from the beginning. There was the legendary 1873 Krewe of Comus parade, which satirized the Union occupation of New Orleans as well as Reconstruction. Comus turned some prominent politico-military figures such as General/President Ulysses Grant and General Benjamin Butler (who was in command of the occupation of New Orleans in 1862) into bugs:

Source: Historic New Orleans Collection

Given that the old line parading krewes have always been made up of well-off white dudes, most of their satire is right-wing in nature. (Zulu was founded to give black folks the chance to mock the stuffed shirts of Rex.) The current krewes of  d’Etat and Chaos carry on that tradition. The all-female Krewe of Muses engages in some mildly liberal satire, but that parade is best known for its gorgeous floats, literate themes, and elaborately decorated shoes. Only in New Orleans do people want a masked woman to throw a used high heel at them.

There is one satirical krewe that skews left:  Krewe du Vieux  of which I happen to be a member. Krewe du Vieux was founded in 1987. It’s vaguely reminiscent of the mythical many-headed hydra with what we call the Mother Krewe as the body of the serpent. The heads of the Krewe Du Vieux serpent are the 17 sub-krewes. I belong to the Krewe of Spank. We’re a relatively new sub-krewe, we rose out of the ashes of the krewe of PAN like a tipsy Phoenix after a year of suspension and protest:

The only thing we occupied was the Den of Muses, which is where Krewe du Vieux floats are brought to life by sub-krewe members. The story of how PAN morphed into Spank is a long one. It’s best saved for another time. Instead, I’ll tell you my Krewe du Vieux origin story.  

I joined in 2007 through my close friend and fellow NOLA blogger Ashley Morris of FYFF fame. One day as he went on about parade prep, I posed the eternal question: “Who do I need to kill or fuck to join Krewe du Vieux?” 

Ashley: “I know a guy. He’s a total asshole but I know a guy.”

Me: “Who?”

Ashley did a pitch perfect Bob Newhart impression:  “That, that would be me.”

The sub-krewe turned out to be PAN.

Ashley played the Mime in PAN’s first post-Katrina/Federal Flood parade with the overall theme, C’est Levee. PAN’s theme was Buy Us Back, Chirac.

Jacques Chirac was French president in 2006. It has a better ring than Give Us A Macaron, Macron.

Two years after Ashley’s tragic death at the age of 45, we recreated that march for the HBO television series Treme. John Goodman’s character, Creighton Burnette, was loosely based on Ashley. His rants came from Ashley’s blog, but they made Creighton a vlogger because watching a large man type is rotten teevee. (In case you’re wondering, the producers paid Ashley’s family for the rights to the posts used.) I wrote about our exploits in a post titled Confessions Of A Carnival Parade Recreator.  I have a minor confession: Spank purchased the float made for Treme and uses it to this very day.

The first year I marched in Krewe du Vieux was 2007.  PAN dressed as convicts and called for a return to the Gret Stet of Louisiana’s tradition of competent corruption:

My wife Grace and I made a sign in ironic celebration of the 2 Louisiana governors who have gone to prison: Dick Leche and Edwin Edwards.  

The thing that I love most about Krewe du Vieux is that it’s a homemade/handmade parade. Marchers design and build the float themselves. Sub-krewe members create their own themes and throws as a collective. I’ve pitched in my share of ideas over the years BUT individuals don’t take credit for their contributions; that belongs to the krewe, which is why Ashley Morris is the only name I drop in this essay. I want to protect the guilty along with the innocent. Additionally, I’m not a builder. Spank’s float captain keeps me away from power tools because in my hands they’re lethal weapons. I’m strictly an idea man and some of them are even good ones.

I’m not going to overwhelm y’all with a year-by-year account of my sub-krewe’s doings but there are a few years that should be of particular interest to Bayou Brief readers.

The first year Spank marched was 2013 in the wake of the Bountygate fake-scandal. Saints head coach Sean Payton and linebacker Jonathan Vilma among others were suspended by NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell. We took aim at the Commissioner and made him sit next to Vilma:

I was recently asked if we plan to satirize “no-call gate.” In a word: no. It happened too close to the February 16th date of this year’s parade for us to change our theme, but we might have a surprise up our Spanky sleeve as lagniappe. Remember: krewe members have to do all the work in our spare time. Besides, been there, done that in 2013 with Spank Delays the Game. We dressed as referees and one of our throws was a fake penalty flag, wrapped around a super ball as seen below with our other throws. 

One of the best themes we’ve ever done was in 2014: Welcome to Dizneylandrieu. In many ways, it’s Spank’s masterpiece. We went after then Mayor Mitch Landrieu and his gentrifying ways. For years, many locals referred to the creeping commercialism of the French Quarter as turning it into “Disneyland on the Bayou.”

Spank extended the analogy by arguing that the entire city had become Mitchey Mayor’s Gentrified Kingdom. Our marchers dressed as Mitchketeers and this was our official logo:

The Spank collective came up with some buttons and a tourist style brochure with which to mock Dizneylandrieu:

The Krewe of Spank specializes in local satire. There’s enough weird stuff happening in New Orleans to keep us occupied. In 2017, we tackled another local sacred cow: Jazz Fest.

We heard through the grapevine that Jazz Fest honcho Quint Davis was not amused with how we satirized the festival. That meant we did a good job, especially with our throws. It’s one reason I’ve focused on them in this photo essay. We tear down the float after every parade, but the throws are eternal. Just ask my publisher.

In addition to progressive political satire, the other Krewe du Vieux sub-krewes are notoriously bawdy and often downright obscene. I’ve nicknamed it the “Penis Parade” because there’s always some dickish humor as you can see from this 2014 classic from the krewe of Drips and Discharges:

I’m usually a lousy photographer but that’s one of my rare good pictures. I call it (what else?) the Skating Dick.

As you can see, Krewe du Vieux is not for everyone. If you have impressionable children, I don’t recommend that you bring them to the parade; unless, that is, you don’t mind explaining papier mache phalluses and vaginas. Yes, some krewes go there too. We may be politically progressive but we’re not politically correct. How could we be with sub-krewes such as Craps, Comatose, Drips and Discharges, Crude, Lewd, Mishigas, Spermes, and Underwear?

This year’s parade rolls through the Marigny and French Quarter on Saturday February 16 at 6:30 PM.

The overall theme takes a poke at Mayor LaToya Cantrell’s favorite slogan: City Of Yes, Yes. Oh God Yes.

As to the details of Spank’s theme that’s top-secret, but one thing you can be sure of is that we’ll be wielding these:

Don’t worry: we don’t spank very hard. See you on the street.

LABI’s Next Game: “Owning” the Referees

By
Sue Lincoln
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What if team owners and management rated referees, based on calls that went for or against the team? And what if team fans then voted on which refs would call their games? In view of the inglorious no-call on pass interference that contributed to keeping the Saints out of the Super Bowl, many fans might think that’s a great idea. Overall, however, it would make the game less fair.

That’s very much analogous to the plan now being proposed by the Louisiana Association of Business and Industry (LABI) – creating and publicizing a Louisiana “Judicial Scorecard.”

“We want to be able to shine a spotlight,” LABI President and CEO Stephen Waguespack said at a luncheon conference on January 24. “Who are the judges who are doing a great job of being impartial evaluators of the law, and who are those that aren’t?”

The gathering was put together by Louisiana Lawsuit Abuse Watch and the Grow Louisiana Coalition, with support from LABI, LOGA (Louisiana Oil and Gas Association) and LMOGA (Louisiana Mid-Continent Oil and Gas Association).

The “Grow Louisiana Coalition, Inc.” is basically a combo public relations group and political action committee, created by and funded heavily through LOGA and LMOGA. They were actively (and financially) engaged this past year in trying to persuade the 23,000 residents of Plaquemines Parish to vote for parish council candidates who opposed that parish’s coastal lawsuits – which go to trial this year. The group is expected to be a propaganda player in the governor’s race and legislative races this year, too.

And as previously reported here, LABI has long been the primary financial backer of Louisiana Lawsuit Abuse Watch, even though it claims to be “a citizen watchdog group dedicated to stopping lawsuit abuse that threatens local businesses and jobs.”

Think of them all as the owners’ association, working to stay in control of everything done by the entire league.

We know they’re working on rule changes.

In particular, they want changes to state laws governing civil lawsuits, often referred to as “tort reform.”

In October, Waguespack penned a column titled, “It’s Time for Some 1-800-LEGALREFORM,” saying, “The laws the Louisiana Legislature has put in place and protected over the years intentionally incentivize and promote one of the most active lawsuit industries in the entire nation.”

LABI will be pushing lawmakers to lower or remove the present $50,000 threshhold for jury trials in civil suits. (Presently, any suit valued at less than $50,000 is heard and decided by the judge alone – what’s known as a “bench trial’.) LABI has been trying for several years to get this changed.

“It’s absolutely the top thing we have to fix,” Waguespack told the legal reforms crowd at that January 24 luncheon.

Yet LABI, LOGA and LMOGA and their teams of lobbyists are politically savvy enough to know they’re unlikely to make a first down on this possession, since the upcoming legislative session is “fiscal”.

Unlike a “regular” session (in even-numbered years) which has 60 legislative days within a total 85-day span, a “fiscal” session (in odd-numbered years) lasts a total of 45 legislative days over a maximum 60-day span. Not only do they have less time to take action, but legislators are only permitted to file five bills apiece that do not pertain to “fiscal” topics, i.e., taxation, fees, budgeting, etc. Finding lawmakers willing use one of their limited number of bills to author the legal reforms thus becomes more difficult, as does the ability to move the sure-to-be-controversial measures through committees and through the lengthy debates they’ll attract on the floors of both chambers.

Additionally, it’s an election year, and those lawmakers seeking re-election have –in the past — generally steered clear of any issues that might get them tackled on their way to the ballot booth. Still other players have, figuratively, tattooed their team logo over their heart, and are willing to bare their chests if it increases their chance of getting a contract renewal.

Staying in the legislative game takes money, and in this election year it’s going to take lots of money. Conveniently, LABI, LOGA, and LMOGA have amply supplied PACs, ready to contribute to the campaigns of their MVPs. In fact, “MVP” is the term LABI uses for their most loyal lawmakers, in the business and industry group’s annual Legislative Scorecard.

How would (or could) a “Judicial Scorecard” work?

It’s unlikely that LABI would rate Louisiana’s federal judges, as they’re appointed by presidential nomination and confirmed by the U.S. Senate – rather than being elected as state judges are. (And here’s a thought: how would you score Judge A versus Judge B on their handling of…bankruptcy proceedings, for example?)

Within the state court system, it would be impossible to rate juvenile and/or family court judges on their decision-making, as those proceedings are kept “in camera”, to protect the privacy rights of the minors involved. If you can’t access the case records or even the names of the parties involved, you can’t evaluate the judgments rendered.

For judges who preside in criminal court, how do you evaluate their results? How do you factor in plea bargains and jury verdicts when rating the judge’s performance on the bench? Is it strictly a conviction ratio, or cumulative length of sentences handed down over the course of a year? Where do implementation of the state’s 2017 criminal justice reforms fit into the valuation formula? Where do mercy and compassion fit in?

It’s therefore not unreasonable to presume that the “targets” of this “judicial scorecard” will be those state judges who preside over civil matters, and that the main cases they’ll be rated on are “torts” – which are defined as “wrongful acts other than breach of contract for which relief may be obtained in the form of damages or an injunction.” Lawsuits stemming from vehicle wrecks are torts; so are the parish-filed lawsuits against oil and gas companies over coastal land losses. The first of those 44 cases are scheduled to go to trial this year.

In the interest of fairness, comparing “apples to apples” as is said, a rating formula that compares the results of tort cases ineligible for juries (involving claims less that $50,000) might prove informative for the public, as a whole. But we all know that’s not how this scheme is going to work.

If the industry groups’ gleeful trumpeting of Louisiana’s inclusion in the annual “Judicial Hellholes Report” is any guide, they’ll be comparing “apples to oranges” – and to pumpkins and watermelons – when designing the methodology for scoring judges, and failing any judges presiding over jury trials that result in high awards.

For example, the latest “Judicial Hellholes Report” ranks Louisiana fifth, because of the pending – not decided — parish lawsuits against oil and gas. California is ranked as the number one hellhole, first because that state’s Supreme Court ruled unanimously that brand-name drug companies – which write the labels for all versions of their drug – can be sued when people are injured by mislabeled generic versions of the drug. (In that particular case, T.H.v. Novartis, the drug’s generic version, prescribed to control pre-term labor, did not contain warnings that it was known to cause fetal brain damage.

The second case that gave California “top honors” was a $289-million jury verdict against Monsanto, for failure to label RoundUp as a cancer-causing chemical.

Florida earned the number two spot, because its Supreme Court upheld an $8-million verdict for asbestos-caused cancer (mesothelioma). With that same case, they struck down a 2013 state law that permitted judges to bar expert scientific testimony.

And it should be noted that the American Tort Reform Foundation, which has propagated the annual “Judicial Hellholes Report” since 2002, is funded by pharmaceutical companies, insurance companies, oil and gas industries, chemical manufacturers, and auto makers. Koch Industries and Exxon-Mobil are among the biggest contributors.

Based on the methodology LABI employs for issuing its annual “Legislative Scorecard” – rating lawmakers only on their votes for or against certain bills supported or opposed by the association – it’s to be expected the group will rate judges based on verdicts rendered in cases involving LABI’s members. The higher the award against a member business – even if determined by a jury, and not solely by the judge – the worse the judge’s score. And, presumably, judges ruling for or against the constitutionality of a LABI-supported law will also see their scores rise or fall accordingly.

Appeals Court and Supreme Court justices, tasked with reviewing cases and decisions rendered in the district courts, will also be subject to LABI’s evaluation, based not on the facts of each case, but rather on whether the call they make is for or against LABI’s “team.”

This has the potential – dare we say, the intent? — to subvert Louisiana’s entire system of justice.

Louisiana’s legal heritage, unlike other states, comes from the Napoleonic Code, rather than English Common Law. Common Law is built on precedent, the stacking of prior decisions made by the courts. Louisiana law requires a judge to evaluate the facts of each particular case as it applies to the law as written. Precedent may be used by the attorneys as argument to support their position, but the judge’s decision is not bound to follow precedent. He or she isrequired to apply what the law saysto the specifics of just that single case.

That’s the same way the higher courts review those cases on appeal.

Stephen Waguespack

LABI’s President and CEO Stephen Waguespack is a lawyer – he was former Gov. Bobby Jindal’s executive counsel – but he is not a judge. By and large, LABI’s members are business owners and management, not lawyers, yet they will be scoring the judges on decisions they make in accordance with how the law applies to the facts of a particular case.

They won’t be reviewing each call based on the complete facts, watching the play from every available camera angle, so to speak. They’ll just say the judge is a bad ref, based on knowing the call went against their team.

Our system of government is structured on discrete powers vested in each of three co-equal branches – legislative, executive and judicial – and its stability is dependent upon the checks and balances each branch affords the others.

LABI has made no secret of its desire to control Louisiana’s legislative branch, with Waguespack bragging at the recent legal reform luncheon about recruiting “business-minded” candidates to run for the state Legislature this fall.

He said, “We’re putting together the apparatus, the infrastructure to find the right candidates, recruit them, put them in office and give them the support.”

They’re aiming for control of the executive branch, too, with much of LABI’s membership putting resources behind the Erector Set’s gubernatorial candidate, Eddie Rispone.

And now, with this proposal to issue their “Judicial Scorecard”, it’s clear they want to “own” the judicial branch, as well.

How does that fit with the first line of Louisiana’s Constitution?

“All government, of right, originates with the people, is founded on their will alone, and is instituted to protect the rights of the individual and for the good of the whole.”

Oh, that’s right. LABI also supports calling a convention to rewrite the state Constitution.

The Bayou Brief, in our debut edition of our podcast Briefly Speaking, interviews Pod Save America.

By
Lamar White, Jr.
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Here is the significantly better mp3 version:

Immigrant students once barred from sports can now play in Louisiana

By
Casey Parks
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Cohen students watch as the school’s boys team squared off against KIPP Renaissance in late September. Neither school has an officially sanctioned team, so they play six-on-six matches in a club league every Saturday. Photo: Casey Parks/The Hechinger Report

This story by Casey Parks, a contributing editor of The Bayou Brief, was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education.

Louisiana principals voted Friday to amend a rule that had barred some immigrant students from playing high school sports. In a vote during the Louisiana High School Athletics Association’s annual convention in Baton Rouge, member principals agreed to allow students to use either the Louisiana Student Secure ID or a special LHSAA-only number to register for teams.

Previously, the association’s Rule 1.5.1 allowed only students with social security numbers to play.

The policy had been in place for years, an LHSAA spokeswoman said, before The Hechinger Report wrote about it this fall. In November, we profiled a group of Central American teenagers who hoped to create a soccer team at their New Orleans high school, Cohen College Prep. When officials from Cohen applied, they said they learned that most of the students wouldn’t be eligible. Though many are in Louisiana legally either on special visas or seeking asylum, most do not have social security numbers. The school created an unofficial team that competed in scrimmages last fall, but many students still hoped to represent Cohen in the state league.

The rule change came too late this school year for Cohen to field a soccer team for the state league, but Erik Zavala, an English Language Learner teacher at the high school, said his students celebrated when they heard the news.

“It was an uplifting moment,” Zavala said. “When I told my kids, they were very happy. They were like, ‘So when do we start?’ That’s really what they want. They want a team. They want to represent Cohen.”

Related: Immigrant students find hope in soccer, but some states won’t let them play

Since 1982, when the U.S. Supreme Court, in Plyler v. Doe, ordered the Tyler, Texas, school district to allow undocumented students to enroll, federal law has required public schools to educate all students, no matter their immigration status.

“It was amazing to know we were a part of it, that we made it a difference in bringing out into the open something that should have never been on the books.” 

Erik Zavala, a Cohen teacher.


But high school athletics associations are independent nonprofits; each has their own rules. Few states have explicit policies concerning undocumented student-athletes, but several allow students to play, whether they’re U.S. citizens or not. Before this week, Louisiana’s rule was one of the most restrictive. Florida requires immigrant students to present official U.S. Customs forms, and Mississippi only allows students who aren’t U.S. citizens to play if they are official foreign exchange students.

Opposition to Louisiana’s policy has picked up steam since The Hechinger Report first wrote about it. Coaches from other teams began speaking out after LHSAA Executive Director Eddie Bonine sent a letter in November to member schools, reminding them that students could not play state-sanctioned sports unless they had social security numbers. Later that month, the ACLU of Louisiana and a Kenner, La.-based law firm demanded that the state overturn its policy or risk suit. New Orleans parent-advocacy group Our Voice Nuestra Voz mobilized, producing videos and petitions to challenge the rule.

In December, Morris Jeff Community High School Principal Margaret Leaf wrote a proposal suggesting the nonprofit athletic association also accept state student identification numbers. Louisiana principals approved an amended version of her proposal.

“It was a hard fight but a good victory,” said Henry Jones, chief engagement officer for Nuestra Voz. “It’s amazing to see people stand up and fight collectively, and demand Louisiana comply with federal law. It’s a real win for parents, teachers, and community members.”

Zavala, the Cohen teacher, said though his students missed the soccer season this year, they will again compete in an unsanctioned city league this spring. Last fall, Cohen won the Crescent City championship. This policy win, Zavala said, might mean even more than that trophy did.

“We were able to do this as a team and as a community,” Zavala said. “It was amazing to know we were a part of it, that we made it a difference in bringing out into the open something that should have never been on the books.”

This story about the immigrant students was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s newsletter.

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