Takis Efstathiou, Bon Koizumi, and Leon Miller examining photographs in the Hearn collection at Tulane University
Leon Miller, (on the right), is the head of the Louisiana Research Collection at Tulane University.
Photograph taken in the Lafcadio Hearn room and the Hogan Jazz Archive at Tulane. Nicole Shibata noted "the exhibition was a huge hit and it was by far the best one we’ve had in that gallery space since I’ve been at Tulane".
The following is an article By Doug MacCash, NOLA.com - on the occasion of the New Orleans exhibition
The Times-Picayune (Newspaper) - Greater New Orleans
on October 19, 2012
Lafcadio Hearn’s great-grandson Bon Koizumi said that he was “moved” by his visit to the Cleveland Avenue apartment his ancestor called home from 1882 to 1887. Hearn was the 19th-century crime journalist turned tongue-in-cheek cultural observer who will remain forever beloved to Crescent City-ites (though perhaps not so revered by residents of his former hometown of Cincinnati) for the evergreen quote:
“Times are not good here (in New Orleans). The city is crumbling into ashes. It has been buried under a lava flood of taxes and frauds and maladministrations so that it has become only a study for archaeologists. Its condition is so bad that when I write about it, as I intend to do soon, nobody will believe I am telling the truth. But it is better to live here in sackcloth and ashes than to own the whole state of Ohio.”
Hearn (1850-1904) was born in Greece, grew up in Ireland, became a professional writer and keen societal observer in the United States, had a brief sojourn in Martinique, then settled in Japan, where he married a woman from a Samurai family and changed his name to Koizumi Yakumois. During the five years he lived in the Cleveland Avenue boarding house, he wrote “La Cuisine Creole,” an early collection of Crescent City recipes that would have been undreamt of in Cincinnati.
In the introduction of the book, Hearn promised readers that “In this compendium will be found many original recipes and other valuable ones heretofore unpublished, notably those of Gombo file, Bouille-abaisse, Courtbouillon, Jambolaya, Salade a la Russe, Bisque of Cray-fish a la Creole, Pusee Café, Café brule, Brulot, together with many confections and delicacies for the sick, including a number of mixed drinks.” The Koizumis said that despite the spread of Creole cooking in the 117 years since the publication of great grandpa's cookbook, there were still no New Orleans-style restaurants in Matsue, Japan, where they live. But, they said, select chefs are able to whip up an occasional jambalaya or gumbo. In fact, the Koizumis said, Creole food was served to guests at their wedding.
Considering the milepost historic importance of “La Cuisine Creole” to a city that has become a world-renowned culinary beacon, shouldn’t the house at 1565 Cleveland be better known?
Lafcadio Hearn’s great-grandson Bon Koizumi visits New Orleans
Lafcadio Hearn’s great-grandson Bon Koizumi visited the Cleveland Ave. apartment in New Orleans, where the 19th-century journalist and author lived between 1882 and 1887, while writing “La Cuisine Creole” and other works that championed Crescent City culture. He spent the last years of his life 1890 to 1904 in Japan, where he married Koizumi Setsu, taking the name Koizumi Yakumois. Hearn is forever beloved in New Orleans (though perhaps not so revered in his former home town of Cincinnati) for the seemingly timeless quote: “Times are not good here. The city is crumbling into ashes. It has been buried under a lava flood of taxes and frauds and maladministrations so that it has become only a study for archaeologists. Its condition is so bad that when I write about it, as I intend to do soon, nobody will believe I am telling the truth. But it is better to live here in sackcloth and ashes than to own the whole state of Ohio.”
A surprise was waiting for Bon Koizumi and wife Shoko Koizumi when they entered the kitchen of the Cleveland Street apartment. Richard Scribner, the owner of great-granddad’s former residence, had thoughtfully prepared a kettle of miso soup for the occasion. After sampling the soy and seaweed broth and having photos taken comparing his profile with a profile photo of his great-grandfather, Bon Koizumi mounted the sturdy winding stairway to the second story. As rain clouds encroached from the horizon, he inspected the wrap-around balcony with its oak-pattern cast iron railing, then entered the spare westward apartment where great-granddad may have lived. The truth is, no one is certain which room was Hearn’s.
There was a plan to visit a second upstairs apartment where Hearn may have lived, but a loud dog and young woman who had freshly emerged from the shower wrapped in a towel made further exploration seem more troublesome for all concerned than it was worth. One felt that somewhere Lafcadio was smiling, charmed by the momentary chaos.
The big brick townhouse where Hearn roomed would fit comfortably into the shady streetscape of, say, Esplanade Avenue at the edge of the French quarter. But in the center of New Orleans’ bustling, treeless hospital district, surrounded by a desert of parking lots and brutish modern architecture, it seems somehow lonely and vulnerable. Heaven only knows how the neo-classical orphan has survived so long amid the wailing sirens and desolation.
The Open Mind of Lafcadio Hearn
What: An exhibition of first editions of Hearn books and Hearn’s art collection.
Where: Tulane University’s Special Collections Gallery, located in Jones Hall, Room 205, 6823 St Charles Ave.
When: Mon-Sat, 10 a.m. to 6; Sun, noon to 6, through Oct. 28.
Admission: Free
Scribner, a Louisiana State University professor of public health, said that old-timers recalled that neighborhood was once the site of several barrooms. As recently as 20 years ago, Scribner said, the one time Hearn residence was a seedy pay-by-the-night flop house frequented by drug abusers and the downtown demimonde. Adding another layer of celebrity to the Cleveland address, Scribner noted that the place had subsequently been purchased and beautifully restored by former Saints star Pat Swilling, who’d entered the contracting trade at the conclusion of his gridiron career. Scribner bought the property 10 years back and managed to place it on the roster of official New Orleans historic landmarks.
Koizumi is a professor of folklore at a community college in Matsue, Japan – Hearn’s last hometown. His great-grandmother, Hearn’s wife Koizumi Setsu, was a renowned story teller, Koizumi said. Is it any wonder that the union of a journalist and storyteller would eventually produce a professor of folklore? Koizumi had come to New Orleans in part to present his views of great-grandfather to Hearn fans at Tulane University, where an exhibit of first editions of Hearn books and Hearn’s art collection is on display. Great-grandpa’s great strength, Koizumi said, was his open-mindedness, and his open mindedness may have had something to do with his view of New Orleans.
“New Orleans is one of my favorite cities in the world,” Koizumi said. “The Creole culture makes people open-minded. So this is the reason I love this city.”
The cloudburst that had rolled across the city during the Koizumi’s visit had passed, leaving behind silver sunlight glittering on the abundant pavement. As the interview began to wind down, Mrs. Koizumi captured the spirit of the moment perfectly. As she glanced up at the high ceiling and the gently spinning ceiling fan she said: “I feel Lafcadio is here with us, because he loved New Orleans and so he wants to come back. Actually, in his life, he never (did). Now he travels with us … this is maybe his second life in a different world.”
Snapshot of Lafcadio's life.
Lafcadio Hearn’s great-grandson Bon Koizumi visited the Cleveland Ave. apartment in New Orleans, where the 19th-century journalist and author lived between 1882 and 1887, while writing “La Cuisine Creole” and other works that championed Crescent City culture. He spent the last years of his life 1890 to 1904 in Japan, where he married Koizumi Setsu, taking the name Koizumi Yakumois. Hearn is forever beloved in New Orleans (though perhaps not so revered in his former home town of Cincinnati) for the seemingly timeless quote: “Times are not good here. The city is crumbling into ashes. It has been buried under a lava flood of taxes and frauds and maladministrations so that it has become only a study for archaeologists. Its condition is so bad that when I write about it, as I intend to do soon, nobody will believe I am telling the truth. But it is better to live here in sackcloth and ashes than to own the whole state of Ohio.”
