Homeless in New Orleans, May 23, 2016

by Patricia Bellomo | May 23, 2016 | Mob Blog

Haunted by the Homeless in New Orleans

Homeless in New Orleans

New Orleans is famous for its ghosts. From the crowds gathered outside the Lalaurie house on the corner of Royal and Governor Nichols to Marie Laveau’s tomb in old St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, it’s no secret New Orleans is haunted. Even my favorite hotel, The Hotel Monteleone, is purported to have a ghost or two. I exploited the city’s haunted reputation in my novel Louie Morelli’s Mistress, adding a bit of the supernatural via Louie Morelli’s eccentric little girl.

But ghost tours and fiction are fun. A not so fun reality is the appalling homelessness on the streets of the French Quarter and elsewhere throughout the city. The homeless outnumber the ghosts in New Orleans. And they haunt me in a way the Quarter’s ghosts never have.

“Haunt me in a way the Quarter’s ghosts never have.”

According to an August 2015 report from Unity of Greater New Orleans, homelessness in the Big Easy was down 85% percent from its post Katrina high in 2007, when close to 12,000 people were without shelter. In 2012 New Orleans had the second highest rate of homelessness in the nation. Today 46.9% of every 10,000 are homeless in New Orleans.

Haunted by the Homeless in New Orleans

I saw homeless on my last couple of post Katrina visits, but this past visit, coinciding with the last week of Jazz Fest 2016 was an eye opener. Homeless men haunted the underpasses on City Park Ave near Metairie Cemetery and huddled beneath the bridges of the Pontchartrain Expressway. These are the faceless people you see in every major metropolis; hungry, dirty, disheveled—the mentally ill and chronic abuser.

Homelessness may be down, overall, in the city from its post Katrina high, but the amount of homeless in the French Quarter is disturbing. I’ve been travelling to New Orleans for a long time, and I have no recollection of homeless haunting the Quarter in the eighties and nineties. But then, I write mob fiction, and it’s understood that when the mob ran the city there were no homeless in the Quarter.

“I’m being haunted by the homeless in New Orleans.”

Today, it’s the homeless youth that pierce the heart. Sprawled in the heat and dirt with their dogs, they rely—like Blanche Dubois—on the kindness of strangers. Softhearted tourists dispensing quarters and dollar bills. To be sure a minority of these panhandlers might be opportunists. Maybe they’re not all homeless. I sincerely hope this is the case.

On my last morning in the Quarter I took a walk, encounterting a downtrodden young man hunched on the sidewalk, a yellow lab sleeping on a square of cardboard beside him. One sign read: “My dog ate my money.” He was nodding off, did not even look up when I dropped a couple of dollar bills into his box.

Further down Royal Street a woman sat on a curb with a small white dog. I stopped and spoke with her, and she told me she and her husband have fallen on hard times. She told me she’s not sleeping on the street but in a van with her family. They’re hoping to collect enough money to drive to Arizona.

“Another haunting is being born of desperation and shattered dreams.”

I wished her well and walked on, dropping four quarters into the can of a homeless vet. My morning stroll takes me past the Lalaurie house, where a tour guide is telling the hideous tale of Madame’s tortured slaves. Her victims haunt the house, but on the narrow streets of the Vieux Carre another haunting is being born of desperation and shattered dreams.

Homeless in New Orleans

Patricia Bellomo is the author of the suspense thrillers Louie Morelli’s Mistress, Stella di Mare, Louie Morelli’s Daughter, and the award winning The Prince of Mafia Princes. All books available on Amazon.com.

To help with homeless in New Orleans please visit the website for Unity for Greater New Orleans: unitygno.org. Or go to the website of the Covenant House, located on the edge of the Quarter. www.covenanthouse.org

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Mardi Gras, January 28, 2016

by Patricia Bellomo | Jan 28, 2016 | Mob Blog

Mob Blog: Mardi Gras, January 28, 2016

Mardi Gras Mask/Patricia Bellomo

I looked at my calendar today and realized that Mardi Gras is just around the corner. This doesn’t mean much to most Yankees, but I’ve an ongoing love affair with the city of New Orleans. The Big Easy also happens to be Louie Morelli’s hometown, and is featured extensively in my novels. In fact, the final scene in Louie Morelli’s Mistress takes place on Mardi Gras.

Mardi Gras, also known as Shrove Tuesday, translates to Fat Tuesday in French. It’s a Catholic holiday, a celebration of excess because the day after Mardi Gras is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of lent and a time of fasting.

Mardi Gras is not unique to New Orleans, but no other city in America celebrates this pre Lenten festival with such flair as the Big Easy. The Carnival season begins on Twelfth Night, which is the conclusion of the twelve days of Christmas and the night before the Feast of Epiphany. Society balls commence with the Twelfth Night Revelers ball, held this year at the Ritz-Carlton on January 6. At this time King Cakes appear in bakeries and supermarkets.

Mardi Gras, also known as shrove Tuesday, translates to Fat Tuesday.

The King Cake is a circular ring cake made of Danish dough and decorated with festive frosting in gold, green and purple—the colors of Mardi Gras. Baked into one of the slices is a small plastic baby or, traditionally, a bean. The person who receives the slice with the baby is considered lucky and is generally chosen to host the next “King Cake” party.

Mardi Gras King Cake and baby/Patricia Bellomo

Although Carnival celebrations were present in some form or another in early New Orleans, it didn’t become organized until the 1850’s when a group of young men formed The Mystick Krewe of Comus and launched the first parade, with mule-drawn floats carrying masked riders.

In the 1870’s Rex arrived as a mock monarch and soon became known as the King of Carnival, with the Rex parade becoming the major parade on Mardi Gras. As with Comus, the Rex organization is comprised of Uptown bluebloods. But other “krewes” soon formed, and it is these private organizations and secret societies that fund the Carnival magic. The cost to the city is minimal, consisting mainly of added police protection.

No longer the exclusive domain of white male aristocrats, parading krewes represent the cultural diversity of New Orleans.

Nowadays, there are a number of krewes that parade and some that don’t, plus the suburban krewes and celebrations. No longer the exclusive domain of white male aristocrats, parading krewes represent the rich cultural diversity of New Orleans, with many African-American and gay krewes offering some of the best entertainment of the season.

Competing krewes start parading at least two weeks prior to Mardi Gras, with the big events slated for the last weekend before the big day. This is when tourists jam the city and the party really kicks in. To get a firm grasp of the enormity of it all, visitors should check out Blaine Kerns Mardi Gras World, where artisans work year round creating floats for forty parades. Celebrations continue throughout the day on Mardi Gras, ending abruptly at midnight, when Lent begins.

Patricia Bellomo is the author of the “Louie Morelli” series. Books include Louie Morelli’s Mistress, Stella di Mare, Louie Morelli’s Daughter, and the award winning The Prince of Mafia Princes. All books available via Amazon or the author’s website.

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Mob Blog: Cafe Atchafalaya, April 14, 2014

by Patricia Bellomo | Apr 14, 2014 | Mob Blog

Cafe Atchafalaya

Mob Blog: Cafe Atchafalaya, April 14, 2014

[dcs_p]Brunch with my baby at Café Atchafalaya. I’m in New Orleans attending to business. It’s seventy-eight degrees and feels like rain, and the earth smells green and humid, and I’m eating a Louisiana Crab Omelette and drinking a Peach Old Fashioned.[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

I haven’t been to the Café Atchafalaya since they redid the place a few years ago. Victor tells me its new owners—he keeps in touch better than I do. Anyway, it’s good to be back in my hometown. I love Florida, but I don’t get creamy grits or crab omelettes or Eggs Treme in Miami or Palm Beach. And even if I did, it wouldn’t taste the same. There is something to be said for atmosphere and you certainly get it at Café Atchafalaya, which is housed in a rustic old building, eschewing the antebellum elegance of nearby Uptown for the seedy bonhomie of the Irish Channel, where Victor’s early childhood was spent.[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

The aforementioned “baby” is my little girl, Ceci. Reluctantly, I admit she’s not quite so little anymore, but she is stunningly beautiful and everybody looks at her. Last night, she told me on the phone that Café Atchafalaya is her favorite, and I’ve pulled her out of school and brought her to the café so she can have brunch with me and Victor.[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

I don’t live with Ceci—in fact, I don’t even have custody—but she’s my baby and I get free rein at spoiling her. And Ceci’s excited to be at the Café Atchafalaya. She doesn’t say so, but I can see it in her eyes. She sits beside me in her parochial school uniform with its crisp white blouse and her dark-blue knee-highs, and even though she’s clearly an adolescent and in the company of two doting males, grown men can’t resist looking—their eyes sliding at her and then quickly moving away. Eating her Atchafalaya Burger, Ceci is oblivious.[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

The Peach Old Fashioned is Victor’s idea. It sounds girly girl, but it is made with Maker’s Mark and peach syrup, and it seems to fit my mood. For awhile I’m anonymous and loving it, and then a couple of gents recognize me and stop by our table to say hello. By the time Café Atchafalaya’s German chocolate crepes arrive, I’m ready to go. I say to Ceci, “Baby, I have to go meet a man on the Westbank. Do you want to go with Victor and me, or return to school?”[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

If you enjoyed Café Atchafalaya, you may consider reading one of Patricia Bellomo’s mob thrillers. Books include, Louie Morelli’s Mistress, Stella di Mare, and Louie Morelli’s Daughter. [/dcs_p][dcs_p]

Café Atchafalaya was written in the voice of Patricia’s main character, savvy mobster, Louie Morelli. All books available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and in all e-reader formats. Also available on AmazonUK and AmazonEU.

Mob Blog: Daddy’s Little Girl, September 26, 2013

by Patricia Bellomo | Sep 26, 2013 | Mob Blog

[dcs_p]Mob Blog: Daddy’s Little Girl, September 26, 2013[/dcs_p]

[dcs_p]In Louie Morelli’s words …[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

I’m in New Orleans visiting my daughter. No, not Stella, but my other little girl, the one I don’t talk about: Ceci, the lovechild I had with my late, longtime mistress, Mercedes.[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

Ceci’s more French than Italian, more Mercedes daughter than mine, but still, she’s my daughter, daddy’s little girl. Ceci has her mother’s looks. She’s always been beautiful, now, on the verge of puberty, she’s stunning.[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

We’re at the Café du Monde. It’s an old routine of ours—beignets and café au lait with the tourists. We sit street side because that’s where Ceci likes to sit. A band is playing on Decatur Street, the same band as always. It’s warm beneath the canopy, the air sluggish and humid. It’s midmorning and Ceci is supposed to be at school. She wears the uniform of the Sacred Heart Academy. I’ll deliver her to the uptown academy after our visit. At least, I’m expected to. But sometimes Ceci wants to play hooky. And I almost always let her. In fact, I say to her now, “Do you want to go to school or hang with Victor and me all day?”[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

Ceci looks beyond me, to where Victor and one of Anthony’s men are idling near the entrance. Victor’s wearing a lavender linen jacket, one side weighted with his Beretta. I have enemies in New Orleans, my hometown. Not that I’m particularly concerned about being gunned down at the Café du Monde, but still, old habits die hard. It’s best to be prepared.[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

Ceci considers my question. Her mouth is dusted with powdered sugar. She says, “Will I see Uncle Anthony too?”[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

“Yes, and the mayor. Your remember Mayor Blakely, don’t you?”[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

“Of course.” I forget, Ceci’s twelve going on thirty. Daddy’s little girl has never really been a child. She was born gifted—the type of child who reads Tarot cards and plays with voodoo dolls.[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

Ceci tilts her head, looking at me. “I want to stay with you,” she says.[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

That’s that. Daddy’s little girl has spoken. I signal the Vietnamese waiter, letting him know we’re done.[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

Patricia Bellomo is the author of the “Louie Morelli” series. Her books include Louie Morelli’s Mistress, Stella di Mare, and Louie Morelli’s Daughter. Books available at Amazon.com. Also in digital format for all e-readers. Available on AmazonUK, EU, and JP.

Mob Hit Incites Riot In New Orleans, April 12, 2013

by Patricia Bellomo | Apr 12, 2013 | Mob Blog

Mob Hit incites riot in New Orleans

Mob Hit Incites Riot In New Orleans, April 12, 2013

Mob Hit Incites Riot in New Orleans … In October of 1890, Chief Hennessy was assassinated by the Mafia.

The fateful scene in The Godfather, in which Michael Corleone guns down Captain McCluskey and the infamous Turk, Sollozzo, is pure fiction. You may even recall the plotting beforehand, when Michael broaches the idea and Tom Hagen smartly slaps it down, affirming that, “Nobody has ever gunned down a New York police captain and gotten away with it.”

As a crime novelist, I agree that there is always a little truth in fiction. And here’s a bit of history for you: In October of 1890, in the city of New Orleans, Police Chief David Hennessy was gunned down on the street while walking home. At the time of his death Hennessy had been investigating feuding “Sicilian” gangs in the Quarter. Gasping his last breath in Charity Hospital, Hennessy was purported to have whispered that “the damn dagoes got me.”

Nineteen men of Italian origin were arrested; ten were charged with the murder. A long trial ensued, fervently covered by the newspapers. Emotions were running high, and when a jury acquitted seven of the men and a mistrial was declared for the remaining three, the city erupted. A mob formed outside the parish prison on Treme Street, demanding justice. Forcing their way inside, the enraged vigilantes killed eleven Italian prisoners. Those they didn’t shoot outright were hanged.

Since most of the men were not American citizens, the Unites States paid a whopping twenty-four thousand dollars in reparations to the victim’s families. But the townspeople and their municipal leaders, spurred on by a fomenting media, applauded the violence. Eventually, a grand jury concluded that the Mafia did exist in New Orleans, and that it had been responsible for the murder of Chief Hennessy.[/dcs_p][dcs_p]

All this … one hundred and twenty-three years ago. And in New Orleans, which makes me wonder if Louie Morelli’s ancestors were involved. Then again, that’s fiction. Louie’s a figment of my imagination, or is he? One of these days I’ll have to write the story of how his family seized control of the city.

Patricia Bellomo is the author of the crime and mob thriller books, Louie Morelli’s Mistress, Stella di Mare, and Louie Morelli’s Daughter. Books available on Amazon.com.

Photo courtesy of NOLA Times-Picayune. (Archives.)