In September of 1987, James F. Moise wrote an article that was published in the St. Tammany Farmer newspaper, sharing a number of interesting anecdotes about life in Covington over the years.
He starts off by quoting Dr. Walker Percy who in an interview had described Covington as a "non-place" and that's why he enjoyed living here.
Moise disagreed that Covington was a "non-place." He spends the next couple hundred words explaining how, indeed, it was a special place for many people.
"I remember the large white frame house across the street from St. Peter's School," he wrote in the article, "the lower level of which was called the basement, featuring a cafeteria and a stage for the performing arts."
Many streets were gravel in those days, Moise went on to say, the green grass was warm under young bare feet. "We wore shorts, shot cap pistols and waterguns while the adults were giantlike," he recalls his youth.
He described the streetlights: "a single white light bulb suspended beneath a circular galvanized cover."
Moise then described the horror of a stray dog being shot by a police officer in front of school children, and the browbeating local officials endured because of it.
There was a description of St. Paul's institution of learning, just north of a "wild plot of earth known as Old Landing. Frederick, Goodrow and I would pedal our two wheelers down Jahncke Avenue under oaks dripping with shaggy moss."
Moise continued his account of his youth in Covington by mentioning the rusty cannon in front of the American Legion hall, Philip Burns and his five-and-dime store where kids could purchase a bag of marbles so large it took two hands to hold it.
"For a dime a child could buy a wooden top that would be made to spin and hum a music as profound as Beethoven's Ninth," he went on to write.
The Covington area was a favorite location of many weekend residences of state officials, and come election time St. Tammany was a sure stop for politicians stumping for high office. The abundance of seafood pulled from Lake Pontchartrain also promoted the popularity of the Covington area, according to Moise.
Harvey House
"Harvey House, next to the Majestic Theater on New Hampshire Street, was an honest to goodness soda fountain straight from the heart of Norman Rockwell. Mr. Harvey had but one arm and the dexterity of a juggler," Moise explained. "He would create American ambrosias such as banana splits and strawberry malts worthy of the most sophisticated sweet tooth."
Harvey House ads from the early 1950's.
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Click on the image to make it larger.
Haik's
"There was no exit from Mama Haik's store without a purchase unless one could obtain an Act of Congress," he went on. "But the folks knew that before they entered or were called off the street. She had a little lagniappe for her customers who were, incidentally, her friends. She loved them. She really did."
Moise said that a youngster could get into the Star Theater for an admission of six cents and a nod from Mrs. Jahraus who knew everyone's birthday (for at the "age of twelve" the price of a ticket went up to twelve cents). Warren Salles, the theater owner, would open the door for the kids and enthusiastically greet each of them by name.
Adrian Schwartz
A mainstay in the legal community, Adrian Schwartz, "had a mind like flypaper for law and literature," Moise wrote. He commended Schwartz for his knowledge of Shakespeare and Wordsworth as well as the Bible. Moise recalled an incident in Tugy's Bar when Schwartz delivered with soul a performance of the "Seven Ages of Man" from the play "As You Like It."
Moise also told of Sid Fuhrmann's skill with an artist brush, gracing the canvas with colors, tones and nuances that would form a "delicate" bayou scene showing still waters shaded by cypress trees. Residents who acquired one of Fuhrmann's artworks "would not trade one for a Renoir," Moise asserted.
He went on to tell about August Planche, Maggie Grimmer, and Frances Young, "The Cat Lady of Jefferson Avenue." He also told of Mary Ragan's card-playing expertise and Paul Herbes' saloon behind the Star. He told of a meeting between the Sheriff, Dr. Gautreaux and the Chief of Police where they wondered why Jefferson Avenue wasn't named Church Street.
Moise described the children from families affected by the Great Depression, their haunted and frightened expressions, wearing worn overalls and avoiding people's stares.
He commented on the coming of the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway, how it brought a new type of citizen, folks who went to shopping centers to buy stuff (instead of the long-established downtown merchants.)
The Secret of Life
Moise lamented the passing of many of Covington's finest old families, now laid to rest in City Cemetery No. 1. "They were good people who knew the secret of life: that the comings and goings of being were to be taken in small and patient doses, that fortitude and endurance constituted virtue, and that experience taught only those who took the time to smell the roses as time went by."
The pioneer families of Covington "were not particularly educated people," Moise said, "But they were intelligent and wise. They knew what they wanted in life and in fair measure, they got it."
He ends his treatise by lamenting the death of the Covington he once knew. He called the "painful and certain progress" a pact with the devil as Covington and the area filled with south shore newcomers.
"Often times I drink coffee in the Courthouse Cafe with Schoen, Kentzel, and Holden," he concluded. "I take a certain comfort in knowing that my father and mother knew their fathers and mothers, and that our grandparents knew each other.
"Perhaps our children and grandchildren will drink coffee in some designated gathering spot," he hoped. Jahncke Avenue oaks that had become bare limbed the previous decade were now coming back with sprigs of moss for the first time in 25 years or so. That gave him encouragement.
Where we are now, in 2023, some 36 years after the above was written, the moss is still hanging and in spite of some serious hurricane encounters, the trees still shade those summer youngsters heading for the snowball stands.
By James F. Moise
There in Covington is a delicacy served only at Nathan's (Sandwich Shop): a truly delicious hamburger, perfected by Beverly browning buns on a more than worn iron top gas stove. I purchased a couple and with Coke in hand retired to a bench perched atop the warm sand in the Bogue Falaya Park.
As most always the park was unvisited, quiet and comely. Upstream my eyes floated to a bend that formed the landing at the foot of Columbia Street, just passed the high bluff that lofted o'er the Mighty Bogue Falaya.
I pictured in mind a memory of thirty five years gone: a Black parson baptizing his flock in water waist deep to a hymn the lyrics of which were as vanished as vapors.
Columbia Street
Columbia Street was little sister to conquering Boston Street with its privileged Courthouse frontage. Yet Columbia stretched unsubmissive and smug, like the cat that ate the canary, and boasted a breath of its own. Confident along its banquets were the buildings and the storekeepers whose names were an ordainment unswerving as the soverign oaks of Jahncke Avenue.
From the landing upward appeared the Masonic Hall, an unimposing red brick cubicle that never seemed occupied. The Lodge was handsomely dull with perfect grounds but not seen was a busy rake or mower, never ever.
Along was the shop of Barbier the Barber and I distinctly heard his unintelligible mumble as he snipped at locks. Tangent was City Hall where was paid the two dollar water bill. Across was a blond brick bank building converted into an A&P Store fronted by green push-carts and wiry farmers with reddish skin and salt and pepper stubble.
Katty corner was lawyer Adrian Schwartz with folded paper under arm as he searched for his office door next to Norman Haik's. Theriot's Drugs appeared and were seen the soda fountain and the white marble top tables graced with wire back chairs and the sweet smell of sundaes.
Across at the alley were three steps up to Nichol's Toys where for a quarter a balsawood plane was had. To the corner and the Napoleon Bar, a horrifying dump, the stench of which bettered the most seasoned booze head.
Drifting to another corner I found Yub Menetre smoking a cigarette and supporting a parking meter. He smilingly chatted with the voters and was careful to say as little as possible. Quiet LT Ragan followed a-fixin' a stubborn radio in his electric shop across from Schoen's Funeral Parlor. Then passed Lady's stately' home to Kirkland Street I saw the measured graveyard, then stopped still.
A hasty swallow of Coke followed by a small indiscretion allowed me the retaste of the thin white onions that flavored Nathan's delight. My thought-dream snapped and I felt a tad-bit blue. The repast ghosted away.
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Blossman Home Fire Recollection by James Moise
In the late 1980's the Blossman family home burned, and Moise offered this memory-laden description of happier days in the kitchen of Opal Blossman. The house was located at the corner of West 21st Avenue and Jefferson Avenue, and it had been built around 1878 it was estimated. Click on the image of the article below to make the article about Moise's recollections larger and more readable.
Memories of Attending Catholic School
In 1988 Mr. Moise shared his recollections as a student at St. Peters Catholic School in Covington with newspaper readers.
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