New Orleans. Two words loaded with intense visual and psychological symbolism, a place unique with depths of complexity, culture, and experience. To the outsider, this amazing city is seen through a filter, and the fragments of culture and reality that flow out to the world are hardly a representation of the true New Orleans. I admit, I was susceptible to these altered images of the city. As a student coming from midwestern suburbia, my world view was somewhat limited and very sheltered. New Orleans, to me, meant the raucous Mardi Gras, strippers on Bourbon Street, over the top party antics, and little regard for responsibility. When explaining to my friends and family that I would be spending a semester in New Orleans, the first thing out of their mouth was “Don’t have too much fun!” or “You better not come back with any of those beads”. I had so many ideas about this place in my head, and soon the speculations grew out of control. The city beckoned, and with visions of life-consuming partying to take over my life, I entered this glorious city. Many of the city’s facets were confusing yet captivating; Bourbon Street, particularly, was what intrigued me the most. Coming from an extremely conservative family and region, such a place should never exist, and venturing to this place would be unacceptable. I wondered, then, how Bourbon Street and all of its vice was allowed to exist, or how it came to exist. Such a a concentration of immorality had to have had a tumultuous past. More importantly, was all of New Orleans like Bourbon Street, the only symbol other than jazz and soul food I associated with the city? My first few days here revealed to me that Bourbon Street was an isolated condition, that New Orleans was a cultural haven filled with unique places slightly more toned down and exponentially more interesting. I walked in parade in Uptown with the strangest variety of people; the goal was to have as much fun as possible while strolling from bar to bar, and the participants were dressed in anything from drag to Halloween costumes. It was a great time, and showed me that New Orleanians knew how to let loose. Also, I made it down to Frenchman Street and experienced great live music, ranging from jazz to reggae; music in this city is something you cannot find anywhere else, and the abundance of musicians only attests to the acceptance of music as a way of life. My favorite undertaking was finding the local eateries treasured by the locals, such as Sugar Park in the Bywater with its delicious made-from-scratch pizza, and Cooter Brown’s, a local bar where sports fans could really feel the spirit of the game. So why, then, did Bourbon Street and vice culture make through the filter over these places? It was time to analyze Bourbon Street from my perspective, to understand its relevancy, faux symbology, and why people, myself included, found it so alluring.
To grasp an understanding of the enigma Bourbon Street, I ventured into the past in order to understand where the vice culture and acceptance had its initial conception. The place was Storyville, a red light district set up by alderman Sidney Story in 1897 located off Canal Street and north of Rampart Street . Since the city's inception, vice was a common occurrence. The French officials, finding the city hard to populate, brought in risque women from jails and the streets of Europe . Prostitution emerged from this crowd and soon was rampant in New Orleans. Some control was needed to improve the image and safety of the city, and so this red light district was attempted in order to contain the underbelly of New Orleans to one area. Unfortunately, Storyville was wildly profitable and actually reinforced the popular image of New Orleans as a harbor for wanton immorality . The scene in Storyville was the epitome of sex culture. Rundown crib houses, voluptuous women hanging out from windows, desperate for male attention, streets filled with pimps and barkers, and men filing in and out of the rundown establishments was the common night visual. The aura was of secrecy, filth, pleasure, and exotic women. As a port city, New Orleans was teeming with soldiers and sailors, perfect clients for a vice district. Soldiers became so preoccupied with pleasure seeking that the United States government required these districts be shut down. This would create both a sober and focused armed forces and a clean and secure city. The time was World War I, and in combination with the pressure from prohibition, Storyville was officially closed.
Vice culture is not that easily deterred, and this is where Bourbon Street enters the scene. Prior to the 1920s, Bourbon Street was a very fashionable place, an upscale residential zone with charming European architecture and respectable people. With the closing of Storyville, however, the underground vice culture spread back throughout the city and landed directly in the center of the historic French Quarter. The few late night bars and restaurants soon became relocation points for New Orleans infamous nightlife. 1925 marked the official beginning of Bourbon Street indecency with the opening of its first night club featuring dance bands . This era still held its classier demeanor, and though prostitution was present, the music and dance scene still had integrity and authenticity. The largest group of patrons, though, were once again sailors from the docks. Thousands of sailors flocked to the French Quarter, pockets filled with fresh cash and bodies hungry for a woman's touch. The clubs realized the immense profit they were making and could make off these sailors; no longer was the focus on socially acceptable entertainment and cultivating unique cultural experiences, but rather the Storyville-esque money and sex business. Cabarets began to line the street, slowly replacing dance and jazz halls. Then the 1930s ushered in, bringing the Great Depression, the end of the era of good times. Local musicians left for New York and California, and the local crowd that came for jazz and shows avoided the new club scene Bourbon Street and went to the local movie theater instead . Times were tough, and the only option left for the dwindling clubs was to appeal to the sailors with raunchier strip shows, exotic dancing, and sex clubs. World War II in the 1940s brought an end to the depression, but also brought more sailors to the port. Also, the moral code of the era made sex taboo and therefore all the more appealing to sheltered Middle Americans. Bourbon Street roared back to life and became the "strip" of vice and debauchery it is known for worldwide. The tourism angle was the new approach for Bourbon Street, transforming from a place of male indulgence to a carefully regulated tourism industry meant to attract a broad range of visitors of both genders and with a wider variety of interests, still heavy on the sex component. The 1960s brought the final step in the level of the graphic nature of Bourbon Street, when strip clubs replaced burlesque shows because of the greater social tolerance towards nudity. With the focus centered on sex and tourism, the modern day Bourbon Street was born.
Modern day Bourbon Street. My first trip to Bourbon Street is something I will never forget. Down in the city to find housing for this semester, some fellow students and I decided to go out for a night on the town, and where else to go than Bourbon Street. The only information I knew about Bourbon Street was Mardi Gras, balconies, exposed breasts, and uncontrolled drinking. As I stepped onto the street, my nose was filled with a strange putrid smell we could only describe as the combination of vomit, feces, and cheap beer. The puddles on the street I knew were no from the day's rain. My preconceived visions were becoming reality. As I travelled along the street, $2 beer in hand, my eyes wandered to the men's clubs and strip joints that lined the first stretch of this tourist trap. Scantily clad women stood in doorways giving men exaggerated luring looks, suggesting that they would give the men a time they would never forget. My mind truly raced after walking past Larry Flint's Barely Legal, where pictures of eighteen-year-olds posing erotically were visible for everyone to see. The places that were the most morally low to my eyes were those that were filthy and dark, with shoddily blocked out windows and neon signs advertising love acts and full nudity. One place even left the door wide open, and one glance in there was enough to turn me off from that section of the street forever. As we strolled along, we happened upon bar after bar, each so obnoxious and tourist-beckoning that I wondered what would ever inspire someone to enjoy themselves here. Between the bad covers and daiquiri and hand grenade stands, the place was actually a turn off and not a unique or interesting place at all, but rather a blatant money making tourist schematism with no originality, an attraction for the everyman. My personal favorite was The Frat House, a college bar where in the course of an hour I heard the Soulja Boy song twice, each time the bar guys breaking out in drunken song. At the entrance of one bar there was actually a Hand Grenade mascot; really, a mascot for a drink? The only real thrill I received from that walk was the immense entertainment from people watching. The demographic of people was so odd, ranging from young college kids to a strange couple of scantily clad older women, to even a family with small children. Strange men waited on the balconies, hoping for any drunken chick to lift her shirt; the men were fazed by the Mardi Gras iconography and wanted to have the same experience, even on a random Tuesday night. Luckily for them, the streets were filled with drunken masses, and to their enjoyment, women degraded themselves in the proper Bourbon Street style. What ultimately annoyed me were the barkers at every door, harassing those in the streets until they came in and enjoyed a once in a lifetime thrill or two-for-one drinks. I personally would rather roam the streets and choose my destination based on the atmosphere the place emitted, not feel forced into a place under false pretenses. Its safe to say we did not enter any of these bars that night; the atmosphere was too forced and unappealing. Everyone comes to Bourbon Street, tourists in droves attracted by a limited knowledge of what good times people have there, but I feel safe to venture that hardly any come back out saying they found a special place or experience there. They will have certainly had a good and/or interesting time, but they, like me, will have found it too generic and lacking in credible culture.
The local perspective is a very telling indicator of the reality and role of Bourbon Street in New Orleans. This good time generator offers very little to the locals, other than as a place for employment or the occasional dinner. They do not visit often, except for when they are with out of town visitors who want to see the mythic adventure Bourbon Street has to offer (F SB). What, then does Bourbon Street offer to the local community, those who know the city best? To find out, as I am not a true "local" yet, I decide to interview a local shopkeeper who has lived in New Orleans all of his life. Bourbon Street, to him, was a place he never goes. He admitted he had gone there when he was young and in high school to be “cool”, but that it was never a place he felt was exceptional. It could be fun, but it lacked a good music scene. The only music playing on Bourbon Street now is Top-40 dance hits and bad covers. He remarked that Bourbon Street used to be a jazz hot spot, but that the music has long since migrated to other locations around the city, namely Frenchman Street and local dives. Bourbon Street offers nothing more to him than cheap beer; it is completely a tourist destination, a cheap strip to contain the masses. I asked him if he felt that Bourbon Street was a negative symbol for New Orleans. He responded that it was great because it brought people to the city, but that the city's unique attributes and easygoing attitude should be the attraction and experience for outsiders. Lastly, coming from my naive and small-town outlook, I wanted to know more about the psychology of New Orleans, why Bourbon Street is accepted here? He said vices were certainly embraced here, much more so than in the surrounding South. Everyone is laid back, has much more of a passion for music, eating, and drinking. Fun and relaxation are the goals, and therefore the people in this city allow for others to be themselves without judgement. Bourbon Street is not despised for its immorality by locals, but rather its lack of authenticity. One can have a good time here, but please have it in a true New Orleans fashion.
The current myth of Bourbon Street, the public facade, is of the quintessential Mardi Gras flesh flashing and drunken masses. Good times are always had here at all times, public sexuality and bawdy behavior are normal and applauded . The local shops promote this image for profit, through sex shops, sexual innuendo t-shirts, and videos of Mardi Gras in its glory, with specific attention to breasts and hot chicks. The beads are given such high value, but it is entirely a perceived and false value given only by the image of Bourbon Street as the greatest party on earth. The open container law only adds to this image, for certainly if alcohol can be consumed on the streets, then this place is the ultimate pleasure zone. This ideal invades the mind of the outsider, and therefore New Orleans means only to them a good time, a city of vice and self indulgence.
The myth/symbol that is Bourbon Street is reliant on historical notoriety and nostalgic value. Tourists are not cultural anthropologists seeking authentic experiences, but rather customers looking for purchasable versions of the culture they seek . Developers realized this and created a generic tourist pleasing strip condition rather than embrace unique characteristics and portray an authentic cultural experience. Tourism is a large part of the New Orleanian economy as eleven million tourists visit the city every year . Building a tourists New Orleans necessitated exploiting public perceptions , preserving and marketing cultural distinctiveness, cultivating a sense of excitement in carefully controlled spaces and places, and infrastructure of attractions . When the 1984 Worlds Fair was held in New Orleans, the fear was that tourism would change the city to be a contrived image of what the tourist wanted the city to be; unchecked tourism would cheapen the character and image of the French Quarter . This fear was disregarded; they had to create the “culture” of New Orleans, something to be branded, duplicated, and made available for all and for everyone to enjoy. The focus for New Orleans tourism turned to exploiting the city’s notorious past, creating a faux image of uninhibited sex culture. Images of Bourbon Street and Bourbon Street Mardi Gras became the face of New Orleans. Civic leaders and tourism boosters showed no desire to eliminate completely the city’s reputation, balancing wild with mild . Commercial sex drew large masses to the city, so it was thought best to advertise the French Quarter, particularly Bourbon Street, as a precious remnant of a more glamourous age . What they did not realize, or maybe didn’t care about was the loss of real culture, lessening the value of the experience in order make profit. So the glamorized booze-and-girls Bourbon Street was broadcast to the world, capitalizing off the countless myths of the far-removed Storyville clubs and cribs. City officials made sure, however, that the new “Storyville” scene was under strict controls, to offer tourists a safe and secure yet exciting, spectacular, stimulating experience, creating the quintessential tourist destination. Focusing on the past is not a particularly incorrect move, especially for the tourism industry, but to romanticize and exploit Storyville’s glory days, and portray New Orleans as an unchanged vice hub is denying the city of its proper recognition. I am immensely intrigued by the history of this city, but I feel its value is lost in the tourism sludge. The stories are twisted and tweaked until the myth is ready to be spoon-fed to an eager and easily thrilled population.
A fabricated myth and commercialized strip of tourist-targeting businesses should not be the symbol of a city so diverse and exceptional. Bourbon Street does capture the spirit of New Orleans, the no-holds-barred, anything goes, let the good times roll attitude New Orleanians hold dear. It fails to capture, however, the special attributes, the Thursday nights with Kermit Ruffins at Vaughn's, the apple fritters and sweet old ladies at Dorgniacs, the great jazz of the legends, or the best food you will find in the South. A proper symbol or face for this city would be void of the hype and instead focus on the psychology of the people and the many intriguing niches within this sponge of a city.
New Orleans, for me has become all of these priceless experiences, people, and culture. I am glad to have experienced this city in my own way, and to have discarded the notion that Bourbon Street is the absolute legitimate symbol of this city. After living here, I have become somewhat desensitized towards its image and debauchery, and I can only imagine how irrelevant it has become to the local citizenry. Life here is focused on quality and special niches, on the idea that the individual is king. People here embrace differences in character unlike any other place I have been. Expression of one’s self and ideology is present everywhere in this city, and is not suppressed like the rest of conformed society. I wouldn’t exchange my adventures here for anything, and I certainly wouldn’t associate them in any way with the Bourbon Street party facade. Sure, I’ve had a few good times there, but the glamor of this notorious sin city wears thin. It becomes less about the purchasable and contained prescribed good time and more about the unique places and people, a quality that doesn’t fade or crumble under scrutiny. Bourbon Street is great for what it is, a tourist strip, but it has no place representing this city, not its current state. The history of vice culture here, and even current vice culture, should still be emphasized, for it is vital to the history and formation of the fascinating culture of New Orleans. Storyville influenced the party and music culture of this town, Early Bourbon Street made possible the fostering of jazz culture and adult nightlife. In these earlier times, the motives and goals were authentic. The turnover from local gem to worldwide tourist destination, with the goal of profit instead of genuine unparalleled entertainment, created a situation in which exploitation of the public is acceptable. Bourbon Street has evolved into something no longer worthy of its symbol status. What is necessary is a revamping of the city image. Portray the city’s true culture, and then the citizens will have genuine pride in something that is uniquely their own. The screen that filters New Orleans’ image to the outside world, namely the media, should consider avoiding the stereotypes and pitfalls that the tourism industry has placed over the city. Otherwise, everyone will have the same initial conception of New Orleans and when visiting will bypass unmatched and enthralling experiences for cultivated and out of control blurs of reality.
Works Cited
Hendrix, Fred. 2007. Bourbon Street Blog. http://bourbonstblog.blogspot.com/
2007_09_01_archive.html. (accessed November 14, 2007)
Souther, Jonathan M. 2006. New Orleans on Parade: Tourism and the Transformation of the
Crescent City. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press.
Stanosis, Anthony J. 2006. Creating the Big Easy: New Orleans and the Emergence of Modern
Tourism 1918-1945. Athens: University of Georgia Press.
Vessey, Catherine. From Storyville to Bourbon Street: Vice, Nostalgia and Tourism.
http://www.multilingual-matters.net/jtc/001/0054/jtc0010054.pdf. (accessed
November 14, 2007)
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Bourbon Street: A Faux Symbol
New Orleans. Two words loaded with intense visual and psychological symbolism, a place unique with depths of complexity, culture, and experience. To the outsider, this amazing city is seen through a filter, and the fragments of culture and reality that flow out to the world are hardly a representation of the true New Orleans. I admit, I was susceptible to these altered images of the city. As a student coming from midwestern suburbia, my world view was somewhat limited and very sheltered. New Orleans, to me, meant the raucous Mardi Gras, strippers on Bourbon Street, over the top party antics, and little regard for responsibility. When explaining to my friends and family that I would be spending a semester in New Orleans, the first thing out of their mouth was “Don’t have too much fun!” or “You better not come back with any of those beads”. I had so many ideas about this place in my head, and soon the speculations grew out of control. The city beckoned, and with visions of life-consuming partying to take over my life, I entered this glorious city. Many of the city’s facets were confusing yet captivating; Bourbon Street, particularly, was what intrigued me the most. Coming from an extremely conservative family and region, such a place should never exist, and venturing to this place would be unacceptable. I wondered, then, how Bourbon Street and all of its vice was allowed to exist, or how it came to exist. Such a a concentration of immorality had to have had a tumultuous past. More importantly, was all of New Orleans like Bourbon Street, the only symbol other than jazz and soul food I associated with the city? My first few days here revealed to me that Bourbon Street was an isolated condition, that New Orleans was a cultural haven filled with unique places slightly more toned down and exponentially more interesting. I walked in parade in Uptown with the strangest variety of people; the goal was to have as much fun as possible while strolling from bar to bar, and the participants were dressed in anything from drag to Halloween costumes. It was a great time, and showed me that New Orleanians knew how to let loose. Also, I made it down to Frenchman Street and experienced great live music, ranging from jazz to reggae; music in this city is something you cannot find anywhere else, and the abundance of musicians only attests to the acceptance of music as a way of life. My favorite undertaking was finding the local eateries treasured by the locals, such as Sugar Park in the Bywater with its delicious made-from-scratch pizza, and Cooter Brown’s, a local bar where sports fans could really feel the spirit of the game. So why, then, did Bourbon Street and vice culture make through the filter over these places? It was time to analyze Bourbon Street from my perspective, to understand its relevancy, faux symbology, and why people, myself included, found it so alluring.
To grasp an understanding of the enigma Bourbon Street, I ventured into the past in order to understand where the vice culture and acceptance had its initial conception. The place was Storyville, a red light district set up by alderman Sidney Story in 1897 located off Canal Street and north of Rampart Street . Since the city's inception, vice was a common occurrence. The French officials, finding the city hard to populate, brought in risque women from jails and the streets of Europe . Prostitution emerged from this crowd and soon was rampant in New Orleans. Some control was needed to improve the image and safety of the city, and so this red light district was attempted in order to contain the underbelly of New Orleans to one area. Unfortunately, Storyville was wildly profitable and actually reinforced the popular image of New Orleans as a harbor for wanton immorality . The scene in Storyville was the epitome of sex culture. Rundown crib houses, voluptuous women hanging out from windows, desperate for male attention, streets filled with pimps and barkers, and men filing in and out of the rundown establishments was the common night visual. The aura was of secrecy, filth, pleasure, and exotic women. As a port city, New Orleans was teeming with soldiers and sailors, perfect clients for a vice district. Soldiers became so preoccupied with pleasure seeking that the United States government required these districts be shut down. This would create both a sober and focused armed forces and a clean and secure city. The time was World War I, and in combination with the pressure from prohibition, Storyville was officially closed.
Vice culture is not that easily deterred, and this is where Bourbon Street enters the scene. Prior to the 1920s, Bourbon Street was a very fashionable place, an upscale residential zone with charming European architecture and respectable people. With the closing of Storyville, however, the underground vice culture spread back throughout the city and landed directly in the center of the historic French Quarter. The few late night bars and restaurants soon became relocation points for New Orleans infamous nightlife. 1925 marked the official beginning of Bourbon Street indecency with the opening of its first night club featuring dance bands . This era still held its classier demeanor, and though prostitution was present, the music and dance scene still had integrity and authenticity. The largest group of patrons, though, were once again sailors from the docks. Thousands of sailors flocked to the French Quarter, pockets filled with fresh cash and bodies hungry for a woman's touch. The clubs realized the immense profit they were making and could make off these sailors; no longer was the focus on socially acceptable entertainment and cultivating unique cultural experiences, but rather the Storyville-esque money and sex business. Cabarets began to line the street, slowly replacing dance and jazz halls. Then the 1930s ushered in, bringing the Great Depression, the end of the era of good times. Local musicians left for New York and California, and the local crowd that came for jazz and shows avoided the new club scene Bourbon Street and went to the local movie theater instead . Times were tough, and the only option left for the dwindling clubs was to appeal to the sailors with raunchier strip shows, exotic dancing, and sex clubs. World War II in the 1940s brought an end to the depression, but also brought more sailors to the port. Also, the moral code of the era made sex taboo and therefore all the more appealing to sheltered Middle Americans. Bourbon Street roared back to life and became the "strip" of vice and debauchery it is known for worldwide. The tourism angle was the new approach for Bourbon Street, transforming from a place of male indulgence to a carefully regulated tourism industry meant to attract a broad range of visitors of both genders and with a wider variety of interests, still heavy on the sex component. The 1960s brought the final step in the level of the graphic nature of Bourbon Street, when strip clubs replaced burlesque shows because of the greater social tolerance towards nudity. With the focus centered on sex and tourism, the modern day Bourbon Street was born.
Modern day Bourbon Street. My first trip to Bourbon Street is something I will never forget. Down in the city to find housing for this semester, some fellow students and I decided to go out for a night on the town, and where else to go than Bourbon Street. The only information I knew about Bourbon Street was Mardi Gras, balconies, exposed breasts, and uncontrolled drinking. As I stepped onto the street, my nose was filled with a strange putrid smell we could only describe as the combination of vomit, feces, and cheap beer. The puddles on the street I knew were no from the day's rain. My preconceived visions were becoming reality. As I travelled along the street, $2 beer in hand, my eyes wandered to the men's clubs and strip joints that lined the first stretch of this tourist trap. Scantily clad women stood in doorways giving men exaggerated luring looks, suggesting that they would give the men a time they would never forget. My mind truly raced after walking past Larry Flint's Barely Legal, where pictures of eighteen-year-olds posing erotically were visible for everyone to see. The places that were the most morally low to my eyes were those that were filthy and dark, with shoddily blocked out windows and neon signs advertising love acts and full nudity. One place even left the door wide open, and one glance in there was enough to turn me off from that section of the street forever. As we strolled along, we happened upon bar after bar, each so obnoxious and tourist-beckoning that I wondered what would ever inspire someone to enjoy themselves here. Between the bad covers and daiquiri and hand grenade stands, the place was actually a turn off and not a unique or interesting place at all, but rather a blatant money making tourist schematism with no originality, an attraction for the everyman. My personal favorite was The Frat House, a college bar where in the course of an hour I heard the Soulja Boy song twice, each time the bar guys breaking out in drunken song. At the entrance of one bar there was actually a Hand Grenade mascot; really, a mascot for a drink? The only real thrill I received from that walk was the immense entertainment from people watching. The demographic of people was so odd, ranging from young college kids to a strange couple of scantily clad older women, to even a family with small children. Strange men waited on the balconies, hoping for any drunken chick to lift her shirt; the men were fazed by the Mardi Gras iconography and wanted to have the same experience, even on a random Tuesday night. Luckily for them, the streets were filled with drunken masses, and to their enjoyment, women degraded themselves in the proper Bourbon Street style. What ultimately annoyed me were the barkers at every door, harassing those in the streets until they came in and enjoyed a once in a lifetime thrill or two-for-one drinks. I personally would rather roam the streets and choose my destination based on the atmosphere the place emitted, not feel forced into a place under false pretenses. Its safe to say we did not enter any of these bars that night; the atmosphere was too forced and unappealing. Everyone comes to Bourbon Street, tourists in droves attracted by a limited knowledge of what good times people have there, but I feel safe to venture that hardly any come back out saying they found a special place or experience there. They will have certainly had a good and/or interesting time, but they, like me, will have found it too generic and lacking in credible culture.
The local perspective is a very telling indicator of the reality and role of Bourbon Street in New Orleans. This good time generator offers very little to the locals, other than as a place for employment or the occasional dinner. They do not visit often, except for when they are with out of town visitors who want to see the mythic adventure Bourbon Street has to offer (F SB). What, then does Bourbon Street offer to the local community, those who know the city best? To find out, as I am not a true "local" yet, I decide to interview a local shopkeeper who has lived in New Orleans all of his life. Bourbon Street, to him, was a place he never goes. He admitted he had gone there when he was young and in high school to be “cool”, but that it was never a place he felt was exceptional. It could be fun, but it lacked a good music scene. The only music playing on Bourbon Street now is Top-40 dance hits and bad covers. He remarked that Bourbon Street used to be a jazz hot spot, but that the music has long since migrated to other locations around the city, namely Frenchman Street and local dives. Bourbon Street offers nothing more to him than cheap beer; it is completely a tourist destination, a cheap strip to contain the masses. I asked him if he felt that Bourbon Street was a negative symbol for New Orleans. He responded that it was great because it brought people to the city, but that the city's unique attributes and easygoing attitude should be the attraction and experience for outsiders. Lastly, coming from my naive and small-town outlook, I wanted to know more about the psychology of New Orleans, why Bourbon Street is accepted here? He said vices were certainly embraced here, much more so than in the surrounding South. Everyone is laid back, has much more of a passion for music, eating, and drinking. Fun and relaxation are the goals, and therefore the people in this city allow for others to be themselves without judgement. Bourbon Street is not despised for its immorality by locals, but rather its lack of authenticity. One can have a good time here, but please have it in a true New Orleans fashion.
The current myth of Bourbon Street, the public facade, is of the quintessential Mardi Gras flesh flashing and drunken masses. Good times are always had here at all times, public sexuality and bawdy behavior are normal and applauded . The local shops promote this image for profit, through sex shops, sexual innuendo t-shirts, and videos of Mardi Gras in its glory, with specific attention to breasts and hot chicks. The beads are given such high value, but it is entirely a perceived and false value given only by the image of Bourbon Street as the greatest party on earth. The open container law only adds to this image, for certainly if alcohol can be consumed on the streets, then this place is the ultimate pleasure zone. This ideal invades the mind of the outsider, and therefore New Orleans means only to them a good time, a city of vice and self indulgence.
The myth/symbol that is Bourbon Street is reliant on historical notoriety and nostalgic value. Tourists are not cultural anthropologists seeking authentic experiences, but rather customers looking for purchasable versions of the culture they seek . Developers realized this and created a generic tourist pleasing strip condition rather than embrace unique characteristics and portray an authentic cultural experience. Tourism is a large part of the New Orleanian economy as eleven million tourists visit the city every year . Building a tourists New Orleans necessitated exploiting public perceptions , preserving and marketing cultural distinctiveness, cultivating a sense of excitement in carefully controlled spaces and places, and infrastructure of attractions . When the 1984 Worlds Fair was held in New Orleans, the fear was that tourism would change the city to be a contrived image of what the tourist wanted the city to be; unchecked tourism would cheapen the character and image of the French Quarter . This fear was disregarded; they had to create the “culture” of New Orleans, something to be branded, duplicated, and made available for all and for everyone to enjoy. The focus for New Orleans tourism turned to exploiting the city’s notorious past, creating a faux image of uninhibited sex culture. Images of Bourbon Street and Bourbon Street Mardi Gras became the face of New Orleans. Civic leaders and tourism boosters showed no desire to eliminate completely the city’s reputation, balancing wild with mild . Commercial sex drew large masses to the city, so it was thought best to advertise the French Quarter, particularly Bourbon Street, as a precious remnant of a more glamourous age . What they did not realize, or maybe didn’t care about was the loss of real culture, lessening the value of the experience in order make profit. So the glamorized booze-and-girls Bourbon Street was broadcast to the world, capitalizing off the countless myths of the far-removed Storyville clubs and cribs. City officials made sure, however, that the new “Storyville” scene was under strict controls, to offer tourists a safe and secure yet exciting, spectacular, stimulating experience, creating the quintessential tourist destination. Focusing on the past is not a particularly incorrect move, especially for the tourism industry, but to romanticize and exploit Storyville’s glory days, and portray New Orleans as an unchanged vice hub is denying the city of its proper recognition. I am immensely intrigued by the history of this city, but I feel its value is lost in the tourism sludge. The stories are twisted and tweaked until the myth is ready to be spoon-fed to an eager and easily thrilled population.
A fabricated myth and commercialized strip of tourist-targeting businesses should not be the symbol of a city so diverse and exceptional. Bourbon Street does capture the spirit of New Orleans, the no-holds-barred, anything goes, let the good times roll attitude New Orleanians hold dear. It fails to capture, however, the special attributes, the Thursday nights with Kermit Ruffins at Vaughn's, the apple fritters and sweet old ladies at Dorgniacs, the great jazz of the legends, or the best food you will find in the South. A proper symbol or face for this city would be void of the hype and instead focus on the psychology of the people and the many intriguing niches within this sponge of a city.
New Orleans, for me has become all of these priceless experiences, people, and culture. I am glad to have experienced this city in my own way, and to have discarded the notion that Bourbon Street is the absolute legitimate symbol of this city. After living here, I have become somewhat desensitized towards its image and debauchery, and I can only imagine how irrelevant it has become to the local citizenry. Life here is focused on quality and special niches, on the idea that the individual is king. People here embrace differences in character unlike any other place I have been. Expression of one’s self and ideology is present everywhere in this city, and is not suppressed like the rest of conformed society. I wouldn’t exchange my adventures here for anything, and I certainly wouldn’t associate them in any way with the Bourbon Street party facade. Sure, I’ve had a few good times there, but the glamor of this notorious sin city wears thin. It becomes less about the purchasable and contained prescribed good time and more about the unique places and people, a quality that doesn’t fade or crumble under scrutiny. Bourbon Street is great for what it is, a tourist strip, but it has no place representing this city, not its current state. The history of vice culture here, and even current vice culture, should still be emphasized, for it is vital to the history and formation of the fascinating culture of New Orleans. Storyville influenced the party and music culture of this town, Early Bourbon Street made possible the fostering of jazz culture and adult nightlife. In these earlier times, the motives and goals were authentic. The turnover from local gem to worldwide tourist destination, with the goal of profit instead of genuine unparalleled entertainment, created a situation in which exploitation of the public is acceptable. Bourbon Street has evolved into something no longer worthy of its symbol status. What is necessary is a revamping of the city image. Portray the city’s true culture, and then the citizens will have genuine pride in something that is uniquely their own. The screen that filters New Orleans’ image to the outside world, namely the media, should consider avoiding the stereotypes and pitfalls that the tourism industry has placed over the city. Otherwise, everyone will have the same initial conception of New Orleans and when visiting will bypass unmatched and enthralling experiences for cultivated and out of control blurs of reality.
Works Cited
Hendrix, Fred. 2007. Bourbon Street Blog. http://bourbonstblog.blogspot.com/
2007_09_01_archive.html. (accessed November 14, 2007)
Souther, Jonathan M. 2006. New Orleans on Parade: Tourism and the Transformation of the
Crescent City. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press.
Stanosis, Anthony J. 2006. Creating the Big Easy: New Orleans and the Emergence of Modern
Tourism 1918-1945. Athens: University of Georgia Press.
Vessey, Catherine. From Storyville to Bourbon Street: Vice, Nostalgia and Tourism.
http://www.multilingual-matters.net/jtc/001/0054/jtc0010054.pdf. (accessed
November 14, 2007)
To grasp an understanding of the enigma Bourbon Street, I ventured into the past in order to understand where the vice culture and acceptance had its initial conception. The place was Storyville, a red light district set up by alderman Sidney Story in 1897 located off Canal Street and north of Rampart Street . Since the city's inception, vice was a common occurrence. The French officials, finding the city hard to populate, brought in risque women from jails and the streets of Europe . Prostitution emerged from this crowd and soon was rampant in New Orleans. Some control was needed to improve the image and safety of the city, and so this red light district was attempted in order to contain the underbelly of New Orleans to one area. Unfortunately, Storyville was wildly profitable and actually reinforced the popular image of New Orleans as a harbor for wanton immorality . The scene in Storyville was the epitome of sex culture. Rundown crib houses, voluptuous women hanging out from windows, desperate for male attention, streets filled with pimps and barkers, and men filing in and out of the rundown establishments was the common night visual. The aura was of secrecy, filth, pleasure, and exotic women. As a port city, New Orleans was teeming with soldiers and sailors, perfect clients for a vice district. Soldiers became so preoccupied with pleasure seeking that the United States government required these districts be shut down. This would create both a sober and focused armed forces and a clean and secure city. The time was World War I, and in combination with the pressure from prohibition, Storyville was officially closed.
Vice culture is not that easily deterred, and this is where Bourbon Street enters the scene. Prior to the 1920s, Bourbon Street was a very fashionable place, an upscale residential zone with charming European architecture and respectable people. With the closing of Storyville, however, the underground vice culture spread back throughout the city and landed directly in the center of the historic French Quarter. The few late night bars and restaurants soon became relocation points for New Orleans infamous nightlife. 1925 marked the official beginning of Bourbon Street indecency with the opening of its first night club featuring dance bands . This era still held its classier demeanor, and though prostitution was present, the music and dance scene still had integrity and authenticity. The largest group of patrons, though, were once again sailors from the docks. Thousands of sailors flocked to the French Quarter, pockets filled with fresh cash and bodies hungry for a woman's touch. The clubs realized the immense profit they were making and could make off these sailors; no longer was the focus on socially acceptable entertainment and cultivating unique cultural experiences, but rather the Storyville-esque money and sex business. Cabarets began to line the street, slowly replacing dance and jazz halls. Then the 1930s ushered in, bringing the Great Depression, the end of the era of good times. Local musicians left for New York and California, and the local crowd that came for jazz and shows avoided the new club scene Bourbon Street and went to the local movie theater instead . Times were tough, and the only option left for the dwindling clubs was to appeal to the sailors with raunchier strip shows, exotic dancing, and sex clubs. World War II in the 1940s brought an end to the depression, but also brought more sailors to the port. Also, the moral code of the era made sex taboo and therefore all the more appealing to sheltered Middle Americans. Bourbon Street roared back to life and became the "strip" of vice and debauchery it is known for worldwide. The tourism angle was the new approach for Bourbon Street, transforming from a place of male indulgence to a carefully regulated tourism industry meant to attract a broad range of visitors of both genders and with a wider variety of interests, still heavy on the sex component. The 1960s brought the final step in the level of the graphic nature of Bourbon Street, when strip clubs replaced burlesque shows because of the greater social tolerance towards nudity. With the focus centered on sex and tourism, the modern day Bourbon Street was born.
Modern day Bourbon Street. My first trip to Bourbon Street is something I will never forget. Down in the city to find housing for this semester, some fellow students and I decided to go out for a night on the town, and where else to go than Bourbon Street. The only information I knew about Bourbon Street was Mardi Gras, balconies, exposed breasts, and uncontrolled drinking. As I stepped onto the street, my nose was filled with a strange putrid smell we could only describe as the combination of vomit, feces, and cheap beer. The puddles on the street I knew were no from the day's rain. My preconceived visions were becoming reality. As I travelled along the street, $2 beer in hand, my eyes wandered to the men's clubs and strip joints that lined the first stretch of this tourist trap. Scantily clad women stood in doorways giving men exaggerated luring looks, suggesting that they would give the men a time they would never forget. My mind truly raced after walking past Larry Flint's Barely Legal, where pictures of eighteen-year-olds posing erotically were visible for everyone to see. The places that were the most morally low to my eyes were those that were filthy and dark, with shoddily blocked out windows and neon signs advertising love acts and full nudity. One place even left the door wide open, and one glance in there was enough to turn me off from that section of the street forever. As we strolled along, we happened upon bar after bar, each so obnoxious and tourist-beckoning that I wondered what would ever inspire someone to enjoy themselves here. Between the bad covers and daiquiri and hand grenade stands, the place was actually a turn off and not a unique or interesting place at all, but rather a blatant money making tourist schematism with no originality, an attraction for the everyman. My personal favorite was The Frat House, a college bar where in the course of an hour I heard the Soulja Boy song twice, each time the bar guys breaking out in drunken song. At the entrance of one bar there was actually a Hand Grenade mascot; really, a mascot for a drink? The only real thrill I received from that walk was the immense entertainment from people watching. The demographic of people was so odd, ranging from young college kids to a strange couple of scantily clad older women, to even a family with small children. Strange men waited on the balconies, hoping for any drunken chick to lift her shirt; the men were fazed by the Mardi Gras iconography and wanted to have the same experience, even on a random Tuesday night. Luckily for them, the streets were filled with drunken masses, and to their enjoyment, women degraded themselves in the proper Bourbon Street style. What ultimately annoyed me were the barkers at every door, harassing those in the streets until they came in and enjoyed a once in a lifetime thrill or two-for-one drinks. I personally would rather roam the streets and choose my destination based on the atmosphere the place emitted, not feel forced into a place under false pretenses. Its safe to say we did not enter any of these bars that night; the atmosphere was too forced and unappealing. Everyone comes to Bourbon Street, tourists in droves attracted by a limited knowledge of what good times people have there, but I feel safe to venture that hardly any come back out saying they found a special place or experience there. They will have certainly had a good and/or interesting time, but they, like me, will have found it too generic and lacking in credible culture.
The local perspective is a very telling indicator of the reality and role of Bourbon Street in New Orleans. This good time generator offers very little to the locals, other than as a place for employment or the occasional dinner. They do not visit often, except for when they are with out of town visitors who want to see the mythic adventure Bourbon Street has to offer (F SB). What, then does Bourbon Street offer to the local community, those who know the city best? To find out, as I am not a true "local" yet, I decide to interview a local shopkeeper who has lived in New Orleans all of his life. Bourbon Street, to him, was a place he never goes. He admitted he had gone there when he was young and in high school to be “cool”, but that it was never a place he felt was exceptional. It could be fun, but it lacked a good music scene. The only music playing on Bourbon Street now is Top-40 dance hits and bad covers. He remarked that Bourbon Street used to be a jazz hot spot, but that the music has long since migrated to other locations around the city, namely Frenchman Street and local dives. Bourbon Street offers nothing more to him than cheap beer; it is completely a tourist destination, a cheap strip to contain the masses. I asked him if he felt that Bourbon Street was a negative symbol for New Orleans. He responded that it was great because it brought people to the city, but that the city's unique attributes and easygoing attitude should be the attraction and experience for outsiders. Lastly, coming from my naive and small-town outlook, I wanted to know more about the psychology of New Orleans, why Bourbon Street is accepted here? He said vices were certainly embraced here, much more so than in the surrounding South. Everyone is laid back, has much more of a passion for music, eating, and drinking. Fun and relaxation are the goals, and therefore the people in this city allow for others to be themselves without judgement. Bourbon Street is not despised for its immorality by locals, but rather its lack of authenticity. One can have a good time here, but please have it in a true New Orleans fashion.
The current myth of Bourbon Street, the public facade, is of the quintessential Mardi Gras flesh flashing and drunken masses. Good times are always had here at all times, public sexuality and bawdy behavior are normal and applauded . The local shops promote this image for profit, through sex shops, sexual innuendo t-shirts, and videos of Mardi Gras in its glory, with specific attention to breasts and hot chicks. The beads are given such high value, but it is entirely a perceived and false value given only by the image of Bourbon Street as the greatest party on earth. The open container law only adds to this image, for certainly if alcohol can be consumed on the streets, then this place is the ultimate pleasure zone. This ideal invades the mind of the outsider, and therefore New Orleans means only to them a good time, a city of vice and self indulgence.
The myth/symbol that is Bourbon Street is reliant on historical notoriety and nostalgic value. Tourists are not cultural anthropologists seeking authentic experiences, but rather customers looking for purchasable versions of the culture they seek . Developers realized this and created a generic tourist pleasing strip condition rather than embrace unique characteristics and portray an authentic cultural experience. Tourism is a large part of the New Orleanian economy as eleven million tourists visit the city every year . Building a tourists New Orleans necessitated exploiting public perceptions , preserving and marketing cultural distinctiveness, cultivating a sense of excitement in carefully controlled spaces and places, and infrastructure of attractions . When the 1984 Worlds Fair was held in New Orleans, the fear was that tourism would change the city to be a contrived image of what the tourist wanted the city to be; unchecked tourism would cheapen the character and image of the French Quarter . This fear was disregarded; they had to create the “culture” of New Orleans, something to be branded, duplicated, and made available for all and for everyone to enjoy. The focus for New Orleans tourism turned to exploiting the city’s notorious past, creating a faux image of uninhibited sex culture. Images of Bourbon Street and Bourbon Street Mardi Gras became the face of New Orleans. Civic leaders and tourism boosters showed no desire to eliminate completely the city’s reputation, balancing wild with mild . Commercial sex drew large masses to the city, so it was thought best to advertise the French Quarter, particularly Bourbon Street, as a precious remnant of a more glamourous age . What they did not realize, or maybe didn’t care about was the loss of real culture, lessening the value of the experience in order make profit. So the glamorized booze-and-girls Bourbon Street was broadcast to the world, capitalizing off the countless myths of the far-removed Storyville clubs and cribs. City officials made sure, however, that the new “Storyville” scene was under strict controls, to offer tourists a safe and secure yet exciting, spectacular, stimulating experience, creating the quintessential tourist destination. Focusing on the past is not a particularly incorrect move, especially for the tourism industry, but to romanticize and exploit Storyville’s glory days, and portray New Orleans as an unchanged vice hub is denying the city of its proper recognition. I am immensely intrigued by the history of this city, but I feel its value is lost in the tourism sludge. The stories are twisted and tweaked until the myth is ready to be spoon-fed to an eager and easily thrilled population.
A fabricated myth and commercialized strip of tourist-targeting businesses should not be the symbol of a city so diverse and exceptional. Bourbon Street does capture the spirit of New Orleans, the no-holds-barred, anything goes, let the good times roll attitude New Orleanians hold dear. It fails to capture, however, the special attributes, the Thursday nights with Kermit Ruffins at Vaughn's, the apple fritters and sweet old ladies at Dorgniacs, the great jazz of the legends, or the best food you will find in the South. A proper symbol or face for this city would be void of the hype and instead focus on the psychology of the people and the many intriguing niches within this sponge of a city.
New Orleans, for me has become all of these priceless experiences, people, and culture. I am glad to have experienced this city in my own way, and to have discarded the notion that Bourbon Street is the absolute legitimate symbol of this city. After living here, I have become somewhat desensitized towards its image and debauchery, and I can only imagine how irrelevant it has become to the local citizenry. Life here is focused on quality and special niches, on the idea that the individual is king. People here embrace differences in character unlike any other place I have been. Expression of one’s self and ideology is present everywhere in this city, and is not suppressed like the rest of conformed society. I wouldn’t exchange my adventures here for anything, and I certainly wouldn’t associate them in any way with the Bourbon Street party facade. Sure, I’ve had a few good times there, but the glamor of this notorious sin city wears thin. It becomes less about the purchasable and contained prescribed good time and more about the unique places and people, a quality that doesn’t fade or crumble under scrutiny. Bourbon Street is great for what it is, a tourist strip, but it has no place representing this city, not its current state. The history of vice culture here, and even current vice culture, should still be emphasized, for it is vital to the history and formation of the fascinating culture of New Orleans. Storyville influenced the party and music culture of this town, Early Bourbon Street made possible the fostering of jazz culture and adult nightlife. In these earlier times, the motives and goals were authentic. The turnover from local gem to worldwide tourist destination, with the goal of profit instead of genuine unparalleled entertainment, created a situation in which exploitation of the public is acceptable. Bourbon Street has evolved into something no longer worthy of its symbol status. What is necessary is a revamping of the city image. Portray the city’s true culture, and then the citizens will have genuine pride in something that is uniquely their own. The screen that filters New Orleans’ image to the outside world, namely the media, should consider avoiding the stereotypes and pitfalls that the tourism industry has placed over the city. Otherwise, everyone will have the same initial conception of New Orleans and when visiting will bypass unmatched and enthralling experiences for cultivated and out of control blurs of reality.
Works Cited
Hendrix, Fred. 2007. Bourbon Street Blog. http://bourbonstblog.blogspot.com/
2007_09_01_archive.html. (accessed November 14, 2007)
Souther, Jonathan M. 2006. New Orleans on Parade: Tourism and the Transformation of the
Crescent City. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press.
Stanosis, Anthony J. 2006. Creating the Big Easy: New Orleans and the Emergence of Modern
Tourism 1918-1945. Athens: University of Georgia Press.
Vessey, Catherine. From Storyville to Bourbon Street: Vice, Nostalgia and Tourism.
http://www.multilingual-matters.net/jtc/001/0054/jtc0010054.pdf. (accessed
November 14, 2007)
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Bourbon Street : A History
Bourbon Street has a very storied past leading back to the late 19th century. Prostitution and dark criminal activities have always been an issue in this city, and in 1897 the city government tried a new experiment designating one district as the legal prostitution zone, a red light district known as Storyville. This area was an infamous pit stop for locals and tourists alike, but soon grew out of control. When WWI rolled around, prohibition was gaining popularity, and Storyville was shut down permanently. The vice culture spread to various underground locations. Clubs started popping up in the French Quarter, ushering in the first great Bourbon Street era. The first period of Bourbon Street was of a classier demeanor; visitors dressed in their finest, and both locals and tourists found the scene intriguing. The largest group of patrons, however, were sailors from the docks, and with New Orleans being the second largest port in America, thousands of these sailors flocked to the French Quarter, pockets filled with money and bodies yearning for female companionship. Clubs started catering to this crowd with dancers and caberets. Strippers engaged in b-drinking, which is having the customers buy them drinks, and in turn the owner gives them a cut of the profit. As the 1930s swept in, the good times vanished as the Great Depression spread across America. Local musicians left for New York and California, and the local crowd that came for jazz and shows started going to the local movie theaters. TImes were tough, and the only option for the dwindling clubs was to appeal to the sailors with raunchier stripper shows, exotic dancing, and sex clubs. In the 1940s, WWII brought the United States out of the Depression and brought more sailors to the port of New Orleans. Also, the moral stigma of the era made sex taboo, and therefore all the more appealing to sheltered Middle Americans. Bourbon Street roared back to life and became the "strip" of vice and debauchery it is known for worldwide. It was now notorious for nonstop partying and good times. The local law enforcement was in the pocket of the mafia and club owners, and therefore Bourbon Street was given free reign. Soon the hard drinking and flesh culture was commonplace, and New Orleans was desensitized towards the true reality of Bourbon Street. No where else in America could this place exist. Bourbon Street s simply a product of this city, of its working class sailors, its role as a tourist destination, and particularly its notorious past that has never truly left this town of pleasure and gratification.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
A Local Perspective
The umbrella topic of Bourbon Street allows for a variety of approaches to tell its story. There is its vibrant history, its current functions, the embedded laid-back attitude, and its status as a symbol. With such a broad range, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to talk to an expert about history, or if I would rather talk to a local first and get a feel for how Bourbon Street is received by them. I decided that this week was going to be for getting a psychological grasp on Bourbon Street, and my best option for an interview was to find a local. That is not as easy as it seems; all of our neighbors are not from here, and then what would be the right type of local to look for? So I headed to the French Quarter, not sure where I was headed. I certainly wasn’t going to find a local roaming the streets of Bourbon Street, but then it hit me that all of the shopkeepers in the area are locals who get daily experience with the tourist crowd. I decided that I should go somewhere I felt comfortable, so that the interview would go more smoothly, as I am not one to talk randomly to strangers. I chose the Sweet Pea and Tulip boutique, and when I entered I realized the shopkeeper was in fact the same young guy who was there the last time we shopped. A level of acquaintance was already established, so therefore I could dive right into the interview. My first question was asking what Bourbon Street meant to him, what does its name evoke? He responded that it was not a place he would go, that it could be fun, but it doesn’t have a good music scene. He said that back in the fifties, Bourbon Street used to be a jazz hotspot, but now that is migrating over to Frenchman St on the outskirts of the French Quarter. He remarked that Bourbon Street to him offered nothing more than cheap beer, that it is completely about tourism and a cheap strip they can go and be contained. I next asked if he thought Bourbon Street was a negative symbol for New Orleans. He responded that its not bad because it brings the people here, and also that it represents the laid back nature of New Orleans. He felt that the easygoing aspect should be the symbol of New Orleans, and its unique attributes, rather than Bourbon Street, should be the symbol. He suggested that Frenchman should become the view if New Orleans people perceive. I then asked about the “spirit” of New Orleans, and whether Bourbon Street represented that. He said Mardi Gras is great there, and any sort of party or holiday, such as the upcoming Halloween festivities makes for a fun time and good spirit. However he feels that the real spirit of New Orleans is not found on Bourbon Street. Lastly I asked about the psychology of New Orleans, and why Bourbon Street is accepted here. He said vices were certainly embraced here, much more so that in the rest to the South. Everybody here is laid back, and have much more of a passion for music, eating and drinking. Fun and relaxation is the goal, and therefore the people in this city allow for others to be themselves without judgment. As I ended my interview, which was less of an interview and more of a conversation (I soon forgot my list of questions), I felt that this was a worthwhile venture to the French Quarter. The locals don’t mind Bourbon Street, but they don’t use it. They would rather the laid back psychology of the city, which is also present on Bourbon Street, be the symbol the outside world perceives.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
A View from Bourbon Street
New Orleans is chock full of interesting qualities, characteristics, and cultural oddities. This variety is what makes the city unique. Yet, to the outside world, New Orleans is Bourbon Street: loud music, putrid smells, cheap alcohol, and an all-around good time. This was my perception of New Orleans before I came here; the Big Easy was simply one large venue for good times. What I am interested in is what does Bourbon Street mean for this city? What conditions led to the formation of this pleasure zone? The neighborhood was originally a predominately French community, infiltrated by the Spanish, but then became a slum zone when the wealthy moved out and the new immigrants moved in. I am curious as to what previous history influenced the formation of current day Bourbon Street, and also role the street played in previous times.
My biggest interest in Bourbon Street is whether it actually represents New Orleans. What does Bourbon Street mean to the locals? Is it a negative tourist trap that hinders the public understanding of the true New Orleans? How do the surrounding French Quarter residents feel about this channel injecting into their neighborhood? Maybe it doesn’t have a bad connotation for the locals, and instead represents the “spirit” of New Orleans, especially as an outlet for Mardi Gras. Bourbon Street is accepted here as somewhat normal, or allowable, but anywhere else in the United States would be unacceptable. Are vices embraced in this city? Why are New Orleanians so laid back, and everything goes?
Lastly, I want to make an in-depth analysis of Bourbon Street beyond the façade of a party alley, although it is most definitely that. It provides so many different destinations for different demographics, but who actually comes there? What zones are created within Bourbon Street, what unique aspects give it its “charm”, so to speak? It exudes an “anything goes” atmosphere, but so does all of New Orleans in a sense. I am curious as to how this laid back atmosphere came about, and how it led to the current existing Bourbon Street. My overall goal is to disassemble the myth that is Bourbon Street and analyze its validity as a symbol of New Orleans.
My biggest interest in Bourbon Street is whether it actually represents New Orleans. What does Bourbon Street mean to the locals? Is it a negative tourist trap that hinders the public understanding of the true New Orleans? How do the surrounding French Quarter residents feel about this channel injecting into their neighborhood? Maybe it doesn’t have a bad connotation for the locals, and instead represents the “spirit” of New Orleans, especially as an outlet for Mardi Gras. Bourbon Street is accepted here as somewhat normal, or allowable, but anywhere else in the United States would be unacceptable. Are vices embraced in this city? Why are New Orleanians so laid back, and everything goes?
Lastly, I want to make an in-depth analysis of Bourbon Street beyond the façade of a party alley, although it is most definitely that. It provides so many different destinations for different demographics, but who actually comes there? What zones are created within Bourbon Street, what unique aspects give it its “charm”, so to speak? It exudes an “anything goes” atmosphere, but so does all of New Orleans in a sense. I am curious as to how this laid back atmosphere came about, and how it led to the current existing Bourbon Street. My overall goal is to disassemble the myth that is Bourbon Street and analyze its validity as a symbol of New Orleans.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Experiential Transition
The transition from one neighborhood to the next reveals a transformation of form, psychology, community, and accessibility, whether subtly or overwhelmingly. New Orleans contains many vibrant neighborhoods, each intensely unique and specific to certain demographics. Confronted with the choice to embark on an experiential route, I am curious to explore the neighborhoods I typically visit, not because I know them so well, but to analyze them in a new light and understand why my psyche interprets Bywater, Marigny, and the French Quarter as different entities. The journey I will make from Bywater to the French Quarter is a purely experiential testimony to how “physical environments influence and ultimately shape” human behavior, in this case my reaction to the conditions each present.
As I leave my Bywater home to make this journey down Burgundy Street, I immediately notice an ambience of dishevelment. Weeds exist where sidewalks should be; broken furniture is left in these areas of overgrowth and is never moved because no one uses these areas. The trees existing on the sidewalks are too low because of the lack of maintenance, and therefore a dialogue between the street and the built is not established. Some corners make an attempt at a streetscape with managed trees and semi-smooth sidewalks. The road conditions do not make the experience any better, as they are filled with cracks and potholes, leaving me somewhat numb. The houses have a rundown look as well, leaving me to deduce that people within this neighborhood have little regard for outward appearance. Some houses simply have peeling paint issues, whereas others are abandoned and create a negative energy, dividing the neighborhood at that point. Broken windows and rusted overhangs give Bywater an overall rundown aura. The architecture of the area is simply a repetition of shotgun style houses with simple ornamentation; bars covering the windows and doors are simply bars and nothing more. Fencing in this neighborhood is utilized as both security devices but also as a way to have private frontage. Residents want to experience community and therefore are constantly outside in these secure zones surrounded by a chain-link fence screen or lounging on the front porches. Despite a very poor visual setting, the sense of community is strong. Chairs of every variety are scattered throughout the area, implying that everyone is welcome to hang around for a while. Perhaps the disheveled appearance acts as form of eclectic release for the residents, where they have no real regard for superficial aesthetics and instead allow everyone to express themselves and the represent the community; underground culture triumphs superficial façade.
As I leave the Bywater neighborhood, I cross over Franklin Street into Marigny and instantly feel more secure in my surroundings. The shift between neighborhoods is very subtle at first, but is most noticeably visible in a vertical rise. The houses become two stories, and the level of maintenance increases dramatically. Street dialogue is actually considered in this neighborhood through wider less cracked sidewalks and manicured trees for shade purposes. Landscaping is embedded in the sidewalks and is very well maintained. The streetscape is inviting and provides multiple gathering points. Color is another aspect that underwent transformation; Bywater was somewhat drab, but Marigny is vibrant with both pristine house colors and eye-catching greenery. Storefronts are also more inviting; the simple choice of a vibrant blue awning and large windows makes one feel drawn to the establishment. There is even an attempt in this neighborhood to break from the traditional New Orleans architecture at the corner of Touro Street, where there is a semi-modern design of stucco, modern light fixtures, glass, and large doors. Everything in Marigny is more ornate. Even the bars in the windows are over designed, as is the trim, shutters, and porch columns. Everyone seems to the most deluxe house on the block. The feeling this neighborhood is definitely more inviting than Bywater, yet the streets are vacant. Porches are not as prevalent, and side courtyards are completely blocked off from the public. Shutter doors are more apparent here, emitting a repelling force due to their solid fortress-like appearance. Marigny has a safer, more aesthetically pleasing look, but the inhabitants are more reserved and stay in their own worlds, and the sense of community is never really established.
Lastly, I pedal into the infamous French Quarter. The first visual cue I notice is another rise in verticality, both in the built and the trees. This is a very established neighborhood, and its European origins are very apparent. The three level buildings are very narrow and densely packed. Decoration becomes even more ornate, especially in the balcony railings, perhaps in a more symbolic than competitive manner. Streetscape is also addressed here with overhanging balconies creating a narrower channel and trees creating a more intimate scale. This, however, is all for the public. The buildings themselves say very little on the first floor with simply an entrance condition. The second floor is where the French Quarter residents reside, removed from the public disarray securely but still able to observe and experience the community. Residents also escape the extreme public orientation of the neighborhood with well-blocked courtyards to regain intimacy. Safety is also a major issue here and is taken to the extreme with barbed wire and spikes, something not as common in the more treacherous Bywater due to the mythic sense of community that is lacking in the French Quarter. Even the architecture emits a medieval fortress vibe, keeping the public in its place with its massive scale.
Community in a psychological sense is vital to the stability and vitality of a neighborhood. As I traveled through each area, I discovered different cues, however subtle, made great differences in how I as a visitor felt within the neighborhood. Each had both perks and disinclining factors, and each was intensely unique despite my initial inclination that I would fail on my drive to discover these distinguishing architectural cues. I did indeed find and analyze these factors but was most fascinated that some improvement in these factors did not always mean an improvement in “community”. Overall, it’s the unique variety of neighborhoods that is most important, because not everyone wants to exist in the same type of community, which is the driving factor behind how these neighborhoods and their edges formed initially. Lyndon B. Johnson described community as a place where “each individual’s dignity and self-respect is strengthened by the respect and affection of his neighbors”. By this definition, out of the three neighborhoods I visited, Bywater was the most community oriented despite its outward appearance and security issues and therefore the most appealing place according to my wants for a neighborhood, although I felt more secure in aesthetically pleasing Marigny. A place that embraces individuality is a place that embraces community.
As I leave my Bywater home to make this journey down Burgundy Street, I immediately notice an ambience of dishevelment. Weeds exist where sidewalks should be; broken furniture is left in these areas of overgrowth and is never moved because no one uses these areas. The trees existing on the sidewalks are too low because of the lack of maintenance, and therefore a dialogue between the street and the built is not established. Some corners make an attempt at a streetscape with managed trees and semi-smooth sidewalks. The road conditions do not make the experience any better, as they are filled with cracks and potholes, leaving me somewhat numb. The houses have a rundown look as well, leaving me to deduce that people within this neighborhood have little regard for outward appearance. Some houses simply have peeling paint issues, whereas others are abandoned and create a negative energy, dividing the neighborhood at that point. Broken windows and rusted overhangs give Bywater an overall rundown aura. The architecture of the area is simply a repetition of shotgun style houses with simple ornamentation; bars covering the windows and doors are simply bars and nothing more. Fencing in this neighborhood is utilized as both security devices but also as a way to have private frontage. Residents want to experience community and therefore are constantly outside in these secure zones surrounded by a chain-link fence screen or lounging on the front porches. Despite a very poor visual setting, the sense of community is strong. Chairs of every variety are scattered throughout the area, implying that everyone is welcome to hang around for a while. Perhaps the disheveled appearance acts as form of eclectic release for the residents, where they have no real regard for superficial aesthetics and instead allow everyone to express themselves and the represent the community; underground culture triumphs superficial façade.
As I leave the Bywater neighborhood, I cross over Franklin Street into Marigny and instantly feel more secure in my surroundings. The shift between neighborhoods is very subtle at first, but is most noticeably visible in a vertical rise. The houses become two stories, and the level of maintenance increases dramatically. Street dialogue is actually considered in this neighborhood through wider less cracked sidewalks and manicured trees for shade purposes. Landscaping is embedded in the sidewalks and is very well maintained. The streetscape is inviting and provides multiple gathering points. Color is another aspect that underwent transformation; Bywater was somewhat drab, but Marigny is vibrant with both pristine house colors and eye-catching greenery. Storefronts are also more inviting; the simple choice of a vibrant blue awning and large windows makes one feel drawn to the establishment. There is even an attempt in this neighborhood to break from the traditional New Orleans architecture at the corner of Touro Street, where there is a semi-modern design of stucco, modern light fixtures, glass, and large doors. Everything in Marigny is more ornate. Even the bars in the windows are over designed, as is the trim, shutters, and porch columns. Everyone seems to the most deluxe house on the block. The feeling this neighborhood is definitely more inviting than Bywater, yet the streets are vacant. Porches are not as prevalent, and side courtyards are completely blocked off from the public. Shutter doors are more apparent here, emitting a repelling force due to their solid fortress-like appearance. Marigny has a safer, more aesthetically pleasing look, but the inhabitants are more reserved and stay in their own worlds, and the sense of community is never really established.
Lastly, I pedal into the infamous French Quarter. The first visual cue I notice is another rise in verticality, both in the built and the trees. This is a very established neighborhood, and its European origins are very apparent. The three level buildings are very narrow and densely packed. Decoration becomes even more ornate, especially in the balcony railings, perhaps in a more symbolic than competitive manner. Streetscape is also addressed here with overhanging balconies creating a narrower channel and trees creating a more intimate scale. This, however, is all for the public. The buildings themselves say very little on the first floor with simply an entrance condition. The second floor is where the French Quarter residents reside, removed from the public disarray securely but still able to observe and experience the community. Residents also escape the extreme public orientation of the neighborhood with well-blocked courtyards to regain intimacy. Safety is also a major issue here and is taken to the extreme with barbed wire and spikes, something not as common in the more treacherous Bywater due to the mythic sense of community that is lacking in the French Quarter. Even the architecture emits a medieval fortress vibe, keeping the public in its place with its massive scale.
Community in a psychological sense is vital to the stability and vitality of a neighborhood. As I traveled through each area, I discovered different cues, however subtle, made great differences in how I as a visitor felt within the neighborhood. Each had both perks and disinclining factors, and each was intensely unique despite my initial inclination that I would fail on my drive to discover these distinguishing architectural cues. I did indeed find and analyze these factors but was most fascinated that some improvement in these factors did not always mean an improvement in “community”. Overall, it’s the unique variety of neighborhoods that is most important, because not everyone wants to exist in the same type of community, which is the driving factor behind how these neighborhoods and their edges formed initially. Lyndon B. Johnson described community as a place where “each individual’s dignity and self-respect is strengthened by the respect and affection of his neighbors”. By this definition, out of the three neighborhoods I visited, Bywater was the most community oriented despite its outward appearance and security issues and therefore the most appealing place according to my wants for a neighborhood, although I felt more secure in aesthetically pleasing Marigny. A place that embraces individuality is a place that embraces community.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
A River City?
There's water in New Orleans. Really. There is. No, I'm not talking about what comes out of the faucet, but rather entities of water and their effect on this city. I came here with the preconceived notion that this was a water city due to the fact that its surrounded by water. There is Lake Ponchartrain to the north and the mighty Mississippi hugging the remainder. So its not that the water doesnt exist. Its that the city doesnt embrace it. The waterfront is addressed, but through shoreline strip parks that are poorly conceived and don't interact with the water. There is no major waterfront event space; Jackson Square doesn't count either. Its simply an enclosed plaza with a pretty staircase leading to a "riverview". Well done. Yes, I agree viewing the horizon lines of the Mississippi is an awe-inspiring sight, but the plan of the square, and essentially the entire city ignores the beauty and inspiring elements water can provide. In fact, the water is almost a scar upon the city, and every attempt possible to hide is made. For example, New Orleans is a city with a system of canals for flood regulation and economic purposes. But instead of exploiting the positive aspects a channel provides, the potential for waterside parks or interesting bridges, the canals are boxed up. Driving over the canal, you dont feel as if you've left solid ground, when in reality you are floating over a active flowing entity. Water is full of explosive energy, New Orleans simply chooses to repel this intriguing force. Waterfronts provide zones for many different activities and program. However, here you cannot find any real promenades, boardwalks of restaurants and shops, no replication of water abundance through fountains. And certainly the surface grid of the city doesn't respond; waterfronts should be fluid and viscious, but here it is stagnant and unstimulated. There is so much potential for water in this city; embracing its presence would simply allow for the vibrant spirit of New Orleans to flourish. Large open riverfront zones would certainly attract those tired of the stuffy French Quarter and would add a more attractive face to this city. The water certainly isnt going away. Embrace it. Knock down the barriers, chisel away at the city core, and allow for a new force to transform the city experience into an experience in an open, fluid water city, not a dense, dirty european-esque core.
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