![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The Kindness of Strangers
Jul. 24th, 2002 05:45 pmFirst time I visited New Orleans (December '94) I happened across a mask/costume shop on Rue Dumaine, 'Little Shop of Fantasy'. Absolutely gorgeous carnival masks in all shapes and sizes - small leather ones, medium-sized silk ones, five-foot tall God-knows-what ones. I didn't buy anything, but the proprietor - a guy by the name of Mike Stark - took a liking to me, shut up shop for the afternoon, and showed me around the French Quarter.
First stop was St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, where Marie Laveau is buried. Fascinating place full of beautiful marble tombs; it's also right next to one of the projects, and a very very unsafe place to go alone. New Orleans is a dangerous city, and St Louis #1 is one of the more dangerous parts of it. When you're slightly built and obviously a tourist, having a large-sized 'native guide' who knows the area and the people makes a BIG difference. Seems he was one of the personalities of the French Quarter; every other person we passed stopped to say 'hi'. After the cemetery, he showed me one of the better blues clubs in the Quarter. There was a long line of people waiting to get in, which he ignored, and I listened to the best blues I've ever heard; it's not a style I usually pay much heed to, but damn, this was good. I can't recall most of the stories he told me that afternoon, but they were amusing and more than a little colourful; he'd lived most of his life in the French Quarter.
I was 20 at the time, and more than a little naive, and in hindsight it occurs to me that he might have been trying to pick me up -
Ah.
Just ran a Google search on his name, and yes, looks like he probably *was* trying to pick me up. Not that it really matters, I think; he extended me courtesy and good advice without making any obligation out of it, and I had a thoroughly enjoyable time.
Anyway, I returned in 1997 and dropped by to say hello, and this time I bought a mask from his shop (which is finally hanging on my wall, after five years in a box when I had nowhere to put it.)
Yesterday I went looking for his shop again. It had moved from Dumaine to St. Louis, a little smaller, but still well worth a visit if you're ever in the Quarter. I asked the lady behind the counter if Mike Stark was still around. Which he was, in a manner of speaking; his ashes in a box in the fireplace. I'd half-expected it; he wasn't young when I first met him, and he'd already had a couple of strokes. In a way I was glad he was still there, so I could say hello a third time.
Searching on Google to check my facts, I found just how well-known and well-loved the man was. http://www.ambushmag.com/is2198/letters.htm (scroll down a little way) gives a good picture of him. So, this post dedicated to the memory of a "gentle red-headed bear of a man" who showed me some of the beauty of New Orleans :-)
First stop was St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, where Marie Laveau is buried. Fascinating place full of beautiful marble tombs; it's also right next to one of the projects, and a very very unsafe place to go alone. New Orleans is a dangerous city, and St Louis #1 is one of the more dangerous parts of it. When you're slightly built and obviously a tourist, having a large-sized 'native guide' who knows the area and the people makes a BIG difference. Seems he was one of the personalities of the French Quarter; every other person we passed stopped to say 'hi'. After the cemetery, he showed me one of the better blues clubs in the Quarter. There was a long line of people waiting to get in, which he ignored, and I listened to the best blues I've ever heard; it's not a style I usually pay much heed to, but damn, this was good. I can't recall most of the stories he told me that afternoon, but they were amusing and more than a little colourful; he'd lived most of his life in the French Quarter.
I was 20 at the time, and more than a little naive, and in hindsight it occurs to me that he might have been trying to pick me up -
Ah.
Just ran a Google search on his name, and yes, looks like he probably *was* trying to pick me up. Not that it really matters, I think; he extended me courtesy and good advice without making any obligation out of it, and I had a thoroughly enjoyable time.
Anyway, I returned in 1997 and dropped by to say hello, and this time I bought a mask from his shop (which is finally hanging on my wall, after five years in a box when I had nowhere to put it.)
Yesterday I went looking for his shop again. It had moved from Dumaine to St. Louis, a little smaller, but still well worth a visit if you're ever in the Quarter. I asked the lady behind the counter if Mike Stark was still around. Which he was, in a manner of speaking; his ashes in a box in the fireplace. I'd half-expected it; he wasn't young when I first met him, and he'd already had a couple of strokes. In a way I was glad he was still there, so I could say hello a third time.
Searching on Google to check my facts, I found just how well-known and well-loved the man was. http://www.ambushmag.com/is2198/letters.htm (scroll down a little way) gives a good picture of him. So, this post dedicated to the memory of a "gentle red-headed bear of a man" who showed me some of the beauty of New Orleans :-)
