In the past couple of posts, we’ve taken a look at some of the colorful former owners of1001 S. Broad Street. Starting next month, we’ll be starting a four-part series examining the destruction, clean-up, rebuild and reopening of ArtEgg post-Katrina.

This is in part inspired by my own personal circumstances this New Year. Last March 2011, I was kindly invited by friends to move in the apartment that existed in thebasement of their Broadmoor home. It’s a great idea—we’ve been friends for years and they understand that whole financial concept called “school loans.” But there was onesmall rub. The apartment had taken on about 56 inches of water during the flooding ofthe city of New Orleans, post-Katrina. And it had been torn out while cleaning up the property.

So, quite unexpectedly, I found myself involved with the post-Katrina rebuilding efforts still going on in the city. It’s turned into a lengthier process than first expected (June or July of last year) with ugly surprises (like unexpected structural damages that needed correcting before construction could begin) and hidden treasures (lovely old post-WWIIplastic stained glass doors).

We’re all finally in the final stages of rebuilding the apartment. Grouting remains to bedone in the bathroom, the kitchen is only partially complete, the whole space is paintedwith only trim work left to paint, the floors need refinishing. On the plus side, the stainedglass doors were recycled into clerestory windows for the bedroom walls, old slate tilefound onsite has been likewise recycled for the bathroom flooring, and the fifty six inch waterline has been permanently commemorated with bright blue glass tiling installed atthe proper height in the shower stall.

On Wednesday, December 14, 2011, I finished my first semester in Archival Studies viaonline classes hosted by East Tennessee State University. And bright and early on themorning of the 15th, I was onsite at my future apartment, installing insulation. I’m lousy at hanging drywall—I’m too small! And, I’ve discovered I have a talent with drywall mudding, and floating walls and ceilings—the mud reminds me of butter cream frosting and applying is about the same as applying the frosting to a cake. Should this whole history thing not work out, I may have a fair chance in construction!

But all this construction brought home to me the difficulties and realities of rebuilding space lost to flooding and hurricane damage. I was one of the really fortunate ones when it came to being a New Orleans resident post-Katrina—I was home by October 1, 2005.My apartment was water-free and unlooted. My job still existed though my hours werecut and my position downgraded (from bartender to t-shirt vendor).

While I watched many others around me struggle to rebuild, in certain crucial ways, I was untouched by this. While I heard friends and acquaintances discuss their vexationswith rebuilding, I sympathized, tried to help where I could, but didn’t really understandthe stress involved—until now!

Going through this has caused me to consider more current history than has been previously discussed here. Don’t worry, the earliest history of the property won’t beneglected in the exhibit or final report! But, inspired by the experience of rebuilding apost-Katrina residence and my very own apartment, I decided to take a closer look at theprocess of devastation, clean-up, rehabilitation and resurrection of ArtEgg.

This month’s spotlight is on John Slidell, who purchased the property from John Hall in late 1843. Slidell, a New Yorker who graduated from Columbia College (Columbia University) in 1810, came to New Orleans in 1819, about the same time as Samuel Oakey did. The lawyer-businessman bloomed into a formidable politician with political positions ranging from Unites States District Attorney (1829-1833) to Congressman for Louisiana (1843-1845) to Minister to Mexico, an appointment made by President James Polk.

John Slidell’s last posting, as Minister to France representing the Confederate States of America, proved to be arguably his most famous, as John Slidell (with James Mason) became the center of international diplomacy during the Trent Affair.

During the early stages of the Civil War, the North and the South courted Britain, hoping to draw that international power to their respective side. The North hoped prevent the official recognition of the Confederate states by Britain, while the South hoped to claim England’s official recognition by emphasizing the importance of southern cotton to English cotton mills. France was also being courted in a similar matter by the warring American states.

On April 29, 1861, United States President Abraham Lincoln published his Proclamation of Blockade Against Southern Ports. This attempted to limit the commercial activities of the Confederacy and established the right of the United States to legally search neutral vessels suspected of blockade running in international waters. The South attempted, through diplomacy, to have Britain declare the blockade illegal.

In early 1861, after the secession of Louisiana from the United States, Slidell, now a United States Senator, resigned from the Senate and returned to Louisiana. Confederate President Jefferson Davis soon appointed Slidell as Minister to France. Slidell’s mission included attempting to secure from France full diplomatic recognition of the Confederate States of America, which would acknowledge the Confederacy as a sovereign nation.

Slidell, accompanied by James Mason, Minister to England, departed the divided country in late October from Charleston, SC for Spanish-held Cuba. In Cuba, the two ambassadors, with their families, took ship to Europe on the British mail boat, the Trent.

On November 8, 1861, the Trent was boarded and searched by United States Lieutenant D. M. Fairfax on the orders of United States Captain Charles Wilkes, but without permission or knowledge of the federal government. Recognizing the two Confederate ministers, Fairfax removed Slidell, Monroe, and their respective secretaries from the Trent, but permitted the mens’ families to continue to Europe. While Captain Wilkes wished he could have seized the Trent and send it as a prize to Key West, he was prevented from doing so due to “the reduced number of my officers and crew, and the

large number of passengers on board (the Trent—Author) bound to Europe” (Captain Charles Wilkes Reports on the Trent Affiar, 8 November 1861).

This caused an international incident. Britain initially responded very aggressively toward the United States after the boarding of the Trent and the seizure of the Confederate government officials. Britain objected that the action violated their neutrality and demanded that the United States release the men and formally apologize. To give further weight to their demands, England ordered troops to be sent to Canada and ships to the western Atlantic. Britain was not doing this to help the Confederacy but rather wanted to send a clear message that Britain would defend its neutrality.

After nearly two months of negotiations and front page coverage, the United States partially complied with Britain’s demands in order to preserve good relations with Britain. United States Secretary of State William Seward told the British Ambassador, Lord Lyons that Captain Wilkes acted on his own initiative, but avoided an outright apology to the ambassador. Further, the United States agreed to restore the men to British protection and released the men in early January 1862.

Slidell resumed his journey to France and first met with French Ministers in February 1862. Slidell did not succeed in securing diplomatic recognition of the Confederacy or secure any trade agreements between the Confederacy and France. While Slidell did not accomplish his primary objectives, he did raise $15,000,000 from French capitalists and the use of the ship, Stonewall.

After the war’s end, he and his family settled in England. Though able to return home by asking for pardon, Slidell refused this course of action, dying in England in 1871.

Hey fellow egg heads!

In last month’s post, I mentioned a gentleman, Samuel Oakey. Oakey sold the property to John Hall in 1837.

It turns out that Oakey was a colorful character. Born c. 1795 in Albany, NY to Abraham Oakey, the Deputy Treasurer for the State of New York, Oakey moved to New Orleans sometime in 1819. According to his obituary in Hunt’s Merchant Magazine and Commercial Review, Oakey was a man, “careful not to wound the feelings of those who differed from him, and yet prompt to repel insult or offensive words or conduct. . .”

Oakey held a number of jobs including dry good merchant and cotton factor. He was very active in the business community, where he served as President of the Exchange and as an officer of the Chamber of Commerce. Oakey also attended a number of commercial conventions during the 1850s and was considered an expert in Southern trade. Oakey never married.

Oakey’s nephew, Abraham Oakey Hall, future mayor of New York City from 1868 to 1872, moved from New York to New Orleans in 1846. Oakey Hall’s five-year stay acted as the foundation of his book, The Manhattaner in New Orleans, or, Phases of “Crescent City” Life, published in 1851 and dedicated to his uncle, Samuel W. Oakey, Esq. The obituary in Hunt’s Merchant Magazine reveals that Samuel Oakey substantially contributed to Oakey Hall’s education.

Information on Samuel Oakey tends to focus on his business activities and his social life. Hunt’s Merchant Magazine’s obituary for Oakey refers to Oakey’s “urbanity,” “stately politeness,” and his proverbial hospitality. Michael Rubbinaccio, in his book, Abraham Oakey Hall: New York’s Most Elegant and Controversial Mayor, describes Samuel Oakey as being a “local celebrity,” who dressed smartly and welcomed celebrities and notable visitors to New Orleans. Abraham Oakey Hall mentions his uncle “adorning” social events in the dedication of his book, The Manhattaner in New Orleans.

Hunt’s Merchant Magazine alludes to Oakey’s readiness to “repel” insults or offensive words or conduct as can be seen from the quote above. Ready indeed! In 1843, after reading a series of articles in the Vickburg Sentinel that accused New Orleans cotton brokers (Oakey among them) of bad dealing, Oakey challenged the writer, a cotton merchant by the name of Wright, to a duel. While the footnotes about Oakey found in Jefferson Davis’ papers discusses the duel, Rubbinaccio, recounting the story from Croswell Bowen’s book, The Elegant Oakey, claims that Oakey killed Wright with a rifle shot through the heart.

You can see a daguerreotype of Abraham Oakey Hall, Samuel Oakey’s nephew, here.

On June 18, 2011, at ArtEgg’s 10-Year Eggstravaganza Silent Art Auction and Concert, Laurel A. Dorrance announced plans for the installation of a visual exhibit at ArtEgg Studios that explores the history of 1001 South Broad Street. This history, spanning from 1718 to the present day, will examine changing concepts of building and land usage, the technological developments that allowed for the expansion of New Orleans and also take a peek at some of the former owners of ArtEgg’s land.

The anticipated open of the exhibit is scheduled for the summer of 2012.

This page has been set up to allow people to follow along as this process unfolds. Here you will find historical factoids about the property, photos and updates of the process of writing and illustrating community history.

My name is Laurel A. Dorrance and I am the historian. I received my MA in History (with a concentration in Public History) from the University of New Orleans in May 2011 and I am currently enrolled in East Tennessee State University’s online Archival Certificate program. For more about me, feel free to visit my website at www.laureladorrance.com.

If you have questions about the history, exhibit or about the process of creating this history, feel free to write—I welcome your questions and comments.

How This Project Came About

I have been acquainted with Dr. Esther Dyer for a number of years and she hired me to act as the print intern for ArtEgg's Eggstravaganza this past spring. While working on this project, Esther and I fell into discussion about other ways we can celebrate the contributions ArtEgg's tenants make to the community and felt that a look at the community's roots would be a wonderful way to enter a new decade of community involvement.

We decided that a visual exhibit would be the most accessible, "user-friendly" way to reach the public, though a written history will also be part of this process. This history will act as the basis for the visual exhibit and will be available here.

"So where do things currently stand?" you ask. "What do you know about the building or the property?"

I recently visited the New Orleans Office of Real Estate and Records, where I was able to retrieve the file on Square 596, the administrative designation the property is filed under. In this file, I discovered records going back to 1837—farther back than I had hoped, so I was delighted to say the least.

In 1837, a cotton factor, Samuel Oakey, who acted as future Confederate President Jefferson Davis' business manager for six years, sold the property to commercial merchant John Hall. At some point between 1837 and 1843, when Hall sold the property to John Slidell, the property was surveyed and divided into the squares and lots that created the street grid we still use today.

Also, the Office of Real Estate and Records file shows that the earliest possible date for the rail road tracks along the south west side of the building to have been laid is 1886. At this time, the Louisville, New Orleans and Texas Rail Road purchased Square 596 from Alfred Slidell, the son of John Slidell.

The building itself was constructed sometime between 1925 and 1940 by the L. Frank Company, an egg business.

I've also successfully located ArtEgg in the 18th Century, as can be seen from Carlos Trudeau's 1798 map of New Orleans and its "adjacent plantations." 1001 S. Broad Street fell inside John Gravier's plantation, though it was not part of the Jesuit holdings seized by King in 1763. You can see Trudeau's map here. Today's Earhart Boulevard runs along the property line dividing Gravier's land between his own holding and his land that previously belonged to the Jesuits. ArtEgg would have been just below the words "Cypress Swamp" and just above letter "B" in "Boundary of the plantation of John Gravier." And as the map legend reads, it was all cypress swamp.