[StBernard] I left my heart in Old Arabi's Friscoville

[Westley Annis]

I left my heart in Old Arabi's Friscoville

Published: Friday, July 29, 2011, 4:00 PM

 By R. Stephanie Bruno 

THE NEIGHBORHOOD: Friscoville, one of two Arabi historic districts in St.
Bernard Parish.

The district includes 95 buildings (according to the National Register of
Historic Places), specifically buildings lining both sides of Friscoville
from St. Claude Avenue on the north and the Mississippi River on the south.

Like other settlements along the river, this one was carved out of lands
originally belonging to plantations fronting the river. Here, the land was
associated with the LeBeau Plantation (at LeBeau and Bienvenue), built in
1854 by Francis Barthelemy LeBeau. After LeBeau's death, the once-majestic
building was used as a hotel and casino.

In 1986, a fire destroyed portions of the home. Now owned by the Meraux
Foundation, the structure was stabilized and structurally repaired before
Hurricane Katrina, and an extensive renovation was planned. But issues
involving the Meraux Foundation have put those plans on indefinite hold.

THE BLOCK: The 400 block of Friscoville Avenue on the even-numbered, or
west, side of the street, between Poplar Street on the north and Bienvenue
Street on the south.

The corner of Friscoville and Bienvenue is just a half-block away from the
grassy field where the LeBeau Plantation is located.

THE HOUSES: Six picturesque homes including four with bungalow layouts, a
raised centerhall and a two-story Gothic Revival (if you look beyond the
metal siding and striped window awnings).

The two larger houses predate the turn of the 20th century, but the four
bungalows between them were most likely built after 1906, when Friscoville
Realty purchased the LeBeau tract and platted it for subdivision. The same
year, the American Sugar Refinery (the ancestor of Domino Sugar) was built,
boosting the need for housing in the area.

........

Whenever I have friends in town who haven't visited our area before, I
convince them that a side trip to Arabi and St. Bernard Parish is a must-do.

And though some are quizzical, none are disappointed once they cross the
parish line and discover the De La Ronde ruins, the Chalmette Battlefield,
Rocky & Carlo's, the Domino Sugar refinery and two exquisite plantation
homes: Cavaroc (on the grounds of the refinery) and LeBeau (set behind a
chain link fence in the midst of a grassy field).

En route, of course, we travel down Friscoville Avenue toward the river and
admire the many wonderful homes lining the street. While my friends help
themselves to seafood muffulettas at Arabi Food Store & Grocery, I take a
Street Walk in the 400 block of Friscoville.

Anatomy of the block

A grand centerhall cottage at the Bienvenue end of the block pairs with a
tall Gothic Revival house at the other end to bracket a quartet of
similar-sized bungalows in the middle.

The centerhall is especially lovely, showcased in the center of a wide lot.
Two highly detailed dormers punctuate the roof slope, their details
underscored by clever application of contrasting paint colors. A fancy
cast-iron railing fills the spaces between Tuscan style columns (tapered and
rounded) and adds a frilly flourish to the home's otherwise stately
geometry.

The next four houses are similar in that they all have the asymmetrical
massing typical of bungalows. On each, there is a porch and recessed entry
on one side and a wing that extends forward on the other. But there the
similarities end.

The first of the four is painted uniformly white, except for the blue
shutters flanking the front windows. I spot a Tuscan-style column on the
front porch and note the paired windows in the forward-extending bay. The
roof is slate, with French v-channel ridge tiles. At the far end of the
driveway, the all-white garage wears a roof of rusted corrugated metal,
reflecting and enhancing the semi-rural feel of the neighborhood.

Next door, a sage-green house with Craftsman elements offers a variation on
the theme. Here, the entry is recessed and a wing extends forward, but so
too does the porch roof. It extends outward from the body of the house and
is supported by lightly flared (battered) wood columns atop brick pedestals.
There's just enough room for a front porch (in addition to the side porch),
where I spot a pair of chairs awaiting the afternoon shade.

I continue in front of a yellow house, a mirror image of the first one. The
extending wing appears on the right here, the recessed porch on the left.
The wing here is more complex than on the first; it takes the form of a
semihexagonal bay. A minor variation, but a world of difference.

The fourth of the group features more millwork embellishments than its
companions, but I have to lean over the picket fence to be able to properly
appreciate them because a flowering crape myrtle shields them from sidewalk
viewing. The layout is like that of the first house: a square bay on the
left with a pair of windows, a porch on the right. It's worth craning to see
the handsome millwork under the bay windows, the delicate spandrels attached
to box columns, and the roof gable with its oversized attic vent.

I study the overall form of the next house, a tall, narrow two-story with
steeply pitched gables, omnipresent metal siding and perky striped awnings
over all openings. I admit I am stumped: Modifications have removed or
concealed many elements that would help me understand its pedigree, so I
start imagining the house without the changes. I strip off the siding and
awnings and use my inner eye to see what's underneath. When I realize that
its roofline is "cruciform" (cross-shaped due to the intersection of two
mutually perpendicular roof ridges), I feel as though I have enough evidence
to meekly settle on a style -- "Gothic Revival." (But if anyone has another
idea, send it along!)

Life on the street

Twelve-year-old Ronald exits one of the bungalows in a hurry, intent on
catching up to his dog, Butter, before he charges me. But what Ronald
doesn't realize is that I have dealt with Chihuahuas before and have learned
to steady my nerves when one approaches.

Butter rushes at me as fast as his little legs can carry him, sniffs my
shoes with all the authority he can muster, then emits a low growl of
warning before returning to his master.

Ronald tells me he and his family have been living in Arabi for two years,
after relocating from eastern New Orleans.

"I like it better here," he says. "It's quiet. No people arguing in the
street, that kind of thing. And the schools are better, too."

I learn that Ronald is a student at Andrew Jackson Middle School ("A.J.
Middle," as he says), just about a mile away in Chalmette.

Surely there is some kind of story about how the Chihuahua got the name
"Butter," a choice that undercuts his effectiveness as a guard dog, if you
ask me. So Ronald fills me in.

"My sister -- she's 18 -- was making toast in the kitchen and getting ready
to put butter on it," Ronald says. "When the dog walked into the kitchen,
she said, 'Look at you -- you're the same color as this toast and butter.'
After that, we all just started calling him Butter."

........

R. Stephanie Bruno can be reached at housewatcher at hotmail.com.

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