The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1929-07-19
Little Journeys In
Americana
The Tragedy of Lille Dernisre
By LESTER B. COLBY

The Tragedy of Lille Derniere
lave you ever heard the story of
- the great tragedy that occurred
on Lille Dcrniere On that fateful night
Of August 10, 1855? Last Island 1t r.
called In English. Almost directly
south Of New Orleans, on the Louisi-
ana coast. some distance west of the
multiple mouths Of the Mississippi nv
er, Hes Barataria bay.
Barataria bay was where Jean Laf-
htte. the red-headed gentleman buc-
cancer, used to hold his headquarters
and divide his loot. Follow the coast
line westward from there on your map
and you will find a string of islands.
The most westerly Of these IL Derniere
Last Island.
A century or more ago Lille Der
Mere was a gay resort. Old Creole
families from New Orleans, fashion
able French and Spanish planters,
merchants from various places along
the coast together with their women
the beauty and chivalry Of the old
South, dark people with olive skins
and soft voices, used to gather there
for season of gayety each summer.
Famous was the cooking, and even
more famous were the wines and the
champagnes served there. Orches-
tras would be brought down from New
Orleans and at the grand hotel built
on the white sands, merrymakers held
gay soirees. They loved Lille Der
Mere, these fashionables, because of
its remoteness. 1t was well beyond
those other islands-Caillou Cas-
setete, Calumet, Wine island, the twin
Timbaliers and Gull island
They loved Lille Derniere, Last Is
land, because of the latanier growing
nobly there and the wild camomile
which yellow-starred its meadows
where the mich cows, brought down
for the season, grazed In contentment.
They loved Lille Derniere because.
thus exposed to the open gulf, the
summer breezes seemed cooler and
fresher, purer and sweeter than any
where else along the coast.
Today Last Island Is a ruin. It Is
desolation. 1t is haunted by fiddler
crabs and buzzards, by gulls and rep
tiles. A few scrawny, wind-beaten
trees, all leaning away from the gull
as IL they were old, bony hays run
ming from some peril, maintain inse-
cure root there. 1t has been thus. 81
lence and solitude, since that day, Au
gust 10, 1856.
Something more than four hundred
persons were in the great hotel that
day. Suddenly the waters Of the guilt
started to surge. Higher and higher
swell on swell, out of q dead calm
The barometer fell. Down, down, down
1t went.
Then the wind began to rise. II
blew sixty, eighty, a hundred miles
an hour. ALI faced death-and all
knew 1t. Some one started the orches
estra and the dance was on. A few
drank toasts. Better to die bravels
than In fear. Outside the wind blew
a tumult. / know how that wind
roared. l can hear It. lived through
a tropical hurricane myself one time
II cost LOO lives. One does not for
get 1t.
The wind sounds like q thousan.i
heavy trains rushing through at im
measurable speed. You hear eacir
train In the distance; You hear il
bear down upon you and you hear il
pass and fade far away-like moan
You feel that your breath Is beine
sucked out of your body, and 1t IL n'l
well when your neighbors' houses pas
In the air.
The storm at Last Island was Ills
that. Only the waters rose, too. ar
invaded the broad hall where women
danced In Spanish shawls, gowns From
Paris, and silken shoes. Terrific
cries rose with the screech Of III
storm as waves and wind tore til
building asunder. Men and WOMB
and a few children foated on til
wildly tossing seas Some did n"i
float.
A few clutched debris, billiard Ia
bles, doors-anything. Out OF tile
four hundred or more, the legend sayS
only a handful survived. Two or thTyr
men and a child or two, perhaps, were
cast I'D on the shores Of the mainlaEd
still slive.
The grand hotel went away-van
ished In the midst of waltz. TIE
shrieks of the women and childrs
lasted but a moment or two. Trois
cal hurricanes are like that, i n"n
Did / not live once through such
night when LOO died1 Surely, onr
d-.. Mt 4nrrrnfI