"Apres moi le deluge” – Jeanne Poisson, Marquise de Pompadour

"After me the flood," words of Madam de Pompadour and not, as often thought, the words of Louis, the next-to-last. But words so indicative of France during Louis XV’s reign that most of us think he said them.

Louis, and his Father before him, wrought havoc consolidating power and wealth. They, quintessential Conservatives, believed they rightly owned the system. After all, they "ran" it, did they not? Thus they must create the wealth and power. The elder King even said, "I am the state," a view he shares with today’s Conservative politicians.

Unlike today, neither Louis had to juggle his public books. There were no public books. Nor did they need quick spins on the ten-second sound bite. Headlines in those days caused no scrolling banners quicker than the painted wall. They did, however, need secrecy.

Few saw where Louis was steering the ship of state and many pulled on the oars. All tasted the disorder, disaster and death washed up in their wake. All but Louis, of course. Thus, "After me the flood," became a prophecy of the French Revolution. (No Martha Stewart clean up for that poor fall guy.)

L. A. Norma talked about Louis XV over coffee at P. J.’s on the Tulane campus. Norma’s waiter friend – the one with whom she got stranded in Europe after September Eleventh – was taking an American literature class across the street. Norma and I were watching Dixie, his dog.

"Louis gave Louisiana to his Spanish cousin," she told the brewmeister. "That’s why we were under Spanish influence at the time of the second great fire, and why the French Quarter looks more Spanish than French." It is true that few buildings in the Quarter are open-air French colonial things. A few are and a few more can be found in Faubourg Marigny and Faubourg Bywater.

"Such styles can be seen on the islands around Haiti," I interjected to showoff my Sea-manly knowledge.

"Which has roots similar to New Orleans," the brewmeister said as she placed our coffee on the counter, "and a climate that goes well with verandas. Our climate goes well with verandas and such things, too, but we use electricity instead of architecture to fight the elements." She told us she had taken a course on restoration from Faubourgundian, Tulane architecture professor, and preservationist Gene Cizek.

Norma smiled and attempted to retake the conversation, "Do you know of the Treaty of San Ildefonso?" The brewmeister did not, but not for long. "It was the treaty that returned Louisiana from Spain to France. Without it Napoleon could not have sold us to President Jefferson, in eighteen-o-three, to gain the funds to clean up the post-Louis mess."

The brewmeister smiled, "You mean he sold us to the President of the Confederacy?" For a moment the two looked blankly at each other, then burst into laughter at the younger woman’s joke. "Only in so far as our War Between the States was caused, in part, by England’s attempts to reassert itself in America," responded Norma, winning control anew. "Napoleon’s wars with England were the immediate post-Louis mess for which France needed money," she added, as we took our seats victoriously under the oaks.

July Fourth came and went with no big violence. It never has been much of a holiday in New Orleans – at the time it commemorates we were not one of the colonies declaring independence from England.

Louis Armstrong claimed the date as his birthday and The City used to throw a birthday party in his honor in Jackson Square. But the hotels wanted bigger fireworks on The River and then music historian Tad Jones discovered Louis’ birthday was actually August fourth. Siding with Armstrong, this year, the Black Men of Labor, New Orleans Music Hall of Fame, and the New Orleans Jazz Legacy Foundation threw Pops a one-hundred-and-first birthday party on July Fourth. It was at the old Eagle Saloon, uptown-lake-corner of South Rampart and Perdido, a famous spot. The Treme` Brass Band and the Storyville Stompers played and we danced because, as L. A. Norma said, “What do the smart folks know, it’s Louis Armstrong’s birthday, sugar!”

Way out in Los Angeles, on The Fourth, Hesham Hadayet, a forty-year-old Egyptian immigrant shot-up the El Al ticket booth at LAX, killing two. An El Al guard killed him. Last month, at New Orleans’ Louis Armstrong International Airport, a Florida man with the unlikely name of Gott (means God in German) shot and killed an employee of the U. S. Department of Defense. The smart guys say neither act was terrorism. What do the smart folks know, anyway?