Tupelo Gypsy, page 10
part #1 of Voodoo Lucy Series
Chapter Two: Looking at Café Beignet, the store to its right is David’s Antiques, which is the location of the interior and second-floor apartments that are brought to life as Bluff Salon. This is a place I know well, for my grandfather, Vito Asaro, who I was named after, operated a small hand-crafted furniture factory in there until the late 1950s. As a child, I camped out in front during Mardi Gras season. Most Mardi Gras parades during that time came down Royal Street. From that small sidewalk, I watched many parades, and like most kids, I was on my hands and knees grabbing beads and doubloons as the floats passed in front of the building. The best I can remember, the parades stopped flowing down Royal Street in the mid-1960s. The crowds grew too large, the streets were too narrow, and the flambeaux carriers (who each held a pole with four kerosene flames) still served as beacons for parade goers to better enjoy the nighttime festivities. It’s a wonder the entire French Quarter didn’t get burned down.
Chapter Three: At the Court of Two Sisters, the third generation of the Fein family is directing the day-to-day operations and maintaining the legacy of the property’s history and reputation. The Court of Two Sisters has become known worldwide for its live Jazz Brunch, romantic Creole dinners, friendly service and beautiful, open-air courtyard. In 2013, the Fein Family celebrated 50 years at The Court of Two Sisters. Located at 613 Royal Street, it is a great place to eat and take advantage of their garden dining area.
Chapter Four: Slim Jim, the saxophone player, made his way into the book after a visit to The Monteleone Hotel at 214 Royal Street. Living in New Orleans all of our lives, my wife and I celebrated our wedding anniversary for many years at the hotel like tourists. During that visit, we had a suite overlooking Royal Street. It was beautiful at night sitting on the balcony, and the music coming from Slim Jim’s saxophone on the corner made for an excellent evening.
Chapter Four: Mr. Vic came to me while thinking of my grandfather Vito Asaro and my uncles who worked in the furniture shop with him. The world-famous Blue Room at the Fairmont Hotel in New Orleans was the home of top entertainment for years. My furniture-making family named their Glue Room after the famous nightclub. That was the room where the furniture was glued together and set to dry.
Chapter Four: Royal Antiques, located at 309 Royal Street, is a fifth-generation family business. The business was founded in 1899 by Hermina Keil, who came to New Orleans from Alsace-Lorraine, Germany. In her obituary, she was said to be “a veteran antique dealer who counted among her customers Theodore Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson. She became an authority on antiques, particularly rare furniture, silver and antique jewelry.”
Chapter Five: D. H. Holmes was the owner of a New Orleans department store and later a New Orleans-based chain of department stores. The company was founded in 1842 by Daniel Henry Holmes, after whom it is named. In 1849, he moved his headquarters to Canal Street, where he developed his first department store. He followed the model of pioneering department stores in Paris and New York City to offer his customers the best products and services. D. H. Holmes’s main building on Canal Street was long considered a landmark. By the end of the 19th century, it was the largest department store in the South, with customers being served by more than 700 employees. Meeting under its clock, located on the Canal Street facade, was a favorite rendezvous point for locals when that part of the city was a major shopping area.
Chapter Seven: Saint Louis Cathedral at 615 Pere Antoine Alley. The Cathedral-Basilica of Saint Louis, King of France, also called St. Louis Cathedral, is the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of New Orleans and is the oldest cathedral in what would become the United States.
Chapter Ten: French Market Coffee and Chicory. The Bartlett and Dodge families started French Market Coffee in 1890 and have maintained their high standards for coffee roasting over the entire 120-plus-year history of the company. Try it—it’s great!
Chapter Fourteen: Decatur Street across from Morning Call Coffee stand. If you’re ever in New Orleans, a must is to stop at Morning Call. It’s open 24/7, and is a cash-only coffee shop with local roots, known for its chicory coffee & beignets.
Chapter Fourteen: Napoleon House at 500 Chartres Street. A 200-year-old landmark that’s as casual and unique as its French Quarter surroundings. The building’s first occupant, Nicholas Girod, was the mayor of New Orleans from 1812 to 1815. He offered his residence to Napoleon in 1821 as a refuge during his exile.
Napoleon never made it, but the name stuck, and since then, the Napoleon House has become one of the most famous bars in America, a haunt for artists and writers throughout most of the 20th century. A great place to eat.
Chapter Fifteen: Pirate Alley. Two alleyways run on either side of St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans’ Jackson Square, connecting Rue Royale and Rue Chartres. The alley on the “Uptown” side of the cathedral (between the church and the Cabildo) was long called “The Pirates Alley” before that name was formalized in 1964.
Chapter Eighteen: Port of Call. Hefty burgers, loaded baked potatoes, cocktails, and a jukebox draw lines at this 50-year-old dive. 838 Esplanade Ave, New Orleans.
I love to write, and I love to hear from my readers. If you enjoyed this book or any of my others, send me an email, and I will personally respond.
vito@vitozuppardobooks.com
www.vitozuppardobooks.com
Thank you!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Vito Zuppardo retired in 2003 after twenty-five years in the casino business, where he recruited high-limit gaming customers for various casinos around the world.
Vito started writing in 1986, collecting pieces of information from each trip to Las Vegas, the Bahamas, Monte Carlo, and the many other places where he represented casinos. His primary job was keeping his clients happy, while they were vacationing at luxury casino resorts. His first two books, Tales of Lady Luck and Alluring Lady Luck, are based on true events from his experiences during his casino days.
www.vitozuppardobooks.com
SPECIAL PREVIEW
True Blue Detective
by
Vito Zuppardo
Chapter One
It was the early hours of the morning when the garage doors opened. Doctor Ross pulled out into the driveway, and all that could be seen were the signature headlights of his Audi A8. He drove the car around the courtyard, stopping in front of the electric iron gates. The brightly painted gold arrowheads on top made the custom-made gates visible even in the darkness of night, an elegance some people used to symbolize the wealth of the owner.
His was one of the few homes on Royal Street that had such a stately appearance. Located in the world-famous New Orleans French Quarter, it was just a few blocks away from hotels, antique shops, and restaurants in an area most people desired to live in but couldn’t afford.
He turned out of the drive onto Royal Street, and within seconds, the taillights faded into the night. There were very few cars on the road heading east that early in the morning, making the trip to the airport very quick. The airport was located on the east side of New Orleans, backed up against Lake Pontchartrain.
Governor Huey Long had constructed the airport in the mid-1930s on a man-made peninsula dredged by the Orleans Levee Board. During World War II, the airfield was used by the United States Air Force and housed the Tropical Weather School. It had long been converted into a charter and private jet airport. An airport Dr. Ross was always happy to visit, no matter the time of day.
He pulled into the empty airport parking lot and drove around to the back, an area most people only had access to with the proper identification. Stopping at the security gatehouse, he put his window down and handed his ID to the guard on duty. A fat plain envelope with twenty-five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills was all the identification he needed.
“Good morning, Dr. Ross.”
“Good morning. I was never here. No log book, okay?”
“No problem, sir. The plane is on approach and will be parked on tarmac three,” the guard said, putting the envelope in his coat pocket.
The security gate opened, and he headed to the end of the driveway. Dr. Ross opened the trunk of the car and took out a sealed black box. Carrying it to the front of the car, he tried to see the Gulfstream III jet approaching. He could hear the engines and see the running lights, but it was still too dark to make out the aircraft. The runways stretched one mile out into Lake Pontchartrain, and pilots had best be on their A-game when landing or they’d find themselves and their planes at the bottom of the lake.
As the plane got closer, the wheels dropped down, and the nose of the airplane tilted up. It looked like it was going into the water. While the jet was still over the lake, the engines roared as the pilot gave the jet full throttle to thrust the plane down onto the runway for a perfect landing. It taxied to the edge of tarmac three.
The plane came to a complete stop. The engines were shut down, and the electric stairs descended, gently coming to rest on the ground. The aircraft was pure luxury and could only be afforded by the truly wealthy.
The cabin door opened, and two men who appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent appeared at the top of the stairs. They made it obvious they were there to protect and serve their boss as they put their hands in their pockets, exposing the firearms strapped to their bodies.
“Dr. Ross?” one man said with a thick accent.
“Yes?”
“Please come up, Raphael will see you now.”
Dr. Ross slowly climbed the stairs, balancing the package in his hands. “Gentlemen, do you have my money?” he asked as one of the men took the box from him at the top of the stairs. A tall well-tanned man came from the back of the airplane.
“Raphael?” Dr. Ross asked.
“Yes. Will I damage anything if I open the box?” Raphael asked.
“No. Just don’t break the clear seal. The box is refrigerated to the proper temperature,” Dr. Ross said.
One man held the box while Raphael opened it. “One heart and two kidneys. How much time do we have?”
Dr. Ross brushed his fingers across the plastic seal, once again making sure it was airtight. “Once organs are harvested they should be transplanted within twelve to fourteen hours for best results.”
“No problem. This plane will get us to South America in two hours. Your money is inside,” Raphael said, handing Dr. Ross a small leather bag. Dr. Ross opened the bag and took a glance.
“It’s all there, two hundred and fifty thousand. We must go. Thank you, my friend,” Raphael said as they shook hands.
“Tell Amir I said hello, and I look forward to seeing him soon,” Dr. Ross said as he stepped off the airplane. Raphael nodded.
The drive to the airport had taken longer than the entire transaction. As Dr. Ross walked to his car, he heard the electric steps of the jet being pulled up and the engine starting. That quickly the plane was ready for takeoff.
He got into his car, putting the leather bag of money on the passenger’s seat. Opening the bag, he quickly counted twenty-five bundles, making it a total of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
A smile came across his face as he started the car engine and drove around to the gatehouse. As he waited for the gates to open, the guard waved. The only information logged into the record books would be a refueling stop for a Gulfstream III at 5:49 a.m.
Sitting in his car, Dr. Ross listened to the roar of the jet engines as it rushed down the runway. It was only seconds before the aircraft lifted off the ground and flew over the parking lot, gaining altitude quickly as it passed through the clouds and headed toward the first light of dawn.
The Gulfstream hurried through the skies with an ice chest of stolen organs for a happy recipient, somewhere patiently waiting. These transactions had become so commonplace for Dr. Walter Ross that he didn’t think twice about the fact that what he’d done was illegal, much less morally wrong, breaking every ethical principle a doctor’s profession was based on.
He was a physician who just didn’t care about people; his concern was all about the money to finance his needs. Adjusting his Rolex, he could see it was time to get to the hospital and make his rounds.
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Vito Zuppardo, Tupelo Gypsy
