Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
thrive in business until the slaves revolt. The houses burn; smoke rises from the outskirts.
Everything is on fire. The slave armies march through the fields, the standard-bearer carry-
ing a pike topped with an impaled white baby—the flag of the rebellion. The brothers were
separated in the chaos. Pierre was on the last ship out—the helicopter that rises slowly from
the rooftop as the Vietcong come over the wall.
Jean was waiting for his ship on the wharf in New Orleans, the great city spreading away
like a stain, narrow streets, iron balconies, boulevards and taverns, a French city where the
Lafittes were at home. Jean and Pierre made a name with the social set. Jean especially, who
turnsupinarticles:aphrase,abitofdialogue,accompaniedbyaphysicaldescription,amen-
tion of his good looks. A shade over six feet tall, slender as a string, with dark hair, side-
whiskers, and eyes that shade of blue known as robin's egg. He had delicate hands and long
fingers. His fingernails were clean, unusual for a pirate. Dandyish in dress, he preferred silk
shirts, velvet tailcoats, ankle boots with brass clasps, a ruby ring on his pinky. He loved all
women but had a weakness for those of mixed parentage, mulattoes and quadroons, and was
often seen late at night wandering in the worst part of town. There is only one known like-
ness of Jean Lafitte, a quick sketch done by a man named Lacassinier, who worked for the
Lafittes in Galveston. It shows a pirate with mournful eyes, his hair swept across his fore-
head. It could be Rimbaud or some other poet gone to seed in the bohemian taverns.
Pierre was not as good-looking as his brother—smaller and bigger, shorter and fatter, with
a round face and thick brown hair. Here's how he was described on a wanted poster put up in
the city in 1814: “Five feet ten inches in height, stout made, light complexion, and somewhat
cross-eyed.” Pierre had a stroke when he was 40 and suffered occasional trembling fits as a
result. He had a lazy eye, which explains the description in the poster.
TheLafittesopenedablacksmithshopintheFrenchQuarter.Youcanstillvisit:941Bour-
bon Street on the corner of Saint Philip, dilapidated in the best way, a hymn of sagging
wood and brick, nondescript on the outside, a crayon drawing done by a child, warm on
the inside with uneven floorboards and a staircase leading to unknown recesses. Now called
Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, it's said to be the longest-operating bar in the United States. For
theLafittes,itwasafront.ThebrotherswereinatraditionthatincludestheBonannosandthe
Gambinos: criminals in the beginning, middle, and end. Jean and Pierre were go-to guys: If
you were a thief with something to sell, they would find a buyer and take a cut. If you were a
consumerlookingforahard-to-acquireorpossiblyillegalproductorpieceofproperty—they
could help there, too. They had connections to the black marketers and pirates of Barataria,
mostofwhom,liketheLafittes,wereFrench.In1808,theywentintothebusinessofAfrican
slaves.Firstasafence.Theguywhoknowstheguy,couldarrangethething.Then,moreand
more, as a dealer: the guy who had the thing. That's where the money was.
For a minute, it looked like the Lafittes would get rich. Then it didn't. The chaos of the
trade—the competition among privateers—was bad for business. The violence and crooked
