Traveling the back roads of Louisiana, I found this place. I spoke with the next door neighbor who helps to maintain the grounds and even found a way for me to get in! After doing the photography thing, I was told that the owner was a lady named "Mrs. Mary" and she had a snow cone shop and chopped wood she sold on the side of the road (turns out she also does accounting and is the only notary in town).
I met Mrs. Mary who is an older black lady, very soft spoken, has a constant smile on her face which lights up a room, and one of those human beings you meet that you know immediately has a heart of gold.
I explained to her what I did and that I had photographed the church but wanted to check with her to make sure she didnt have a problem with me publishing them. She said she had no problems whatsoever.
I asked her about the history of the place and how she came into possession of it. She said that the church was built in 1872 and was the first black church in town. They closed in 1990 where it has sat empty due to low attendance. They have tried to do some repairs here and there but the only reason she is keeping it is because of the graveyard behind it. Most of the graves are her relatives including the last pastor, her father.
There were 5 piano's and organs in this place so I imagine it was a rockin' little church to spend a Sunday morning. The building next door was the kitchen and doubled as the place for the kids to go when services were being held. As you can see below those kids need to clean up their mess...
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After leaving Mrs. Mary, I headed up the road and received a phone call from a customer and I had to pull over to write some stuff down. While in the parking lot of a bar, I was approached by a guy who was drunk off his ass and wanted to chat. He waited for me to get off the phone then rambled that he needed a ride up the road and I told him I was headed to Baton Rouge. "Thats great! I'm headed that way too!". Shit...
I invite him in, grab my pepper spray and before we take off he sees my camera and insists I take a picture of him. Turns out his name is Michael T. Rhodes or "MTR" as he is known around town. I was informed of this fact 5 times in our 15 minute jaunt "up the road" to a convenience store where he asked me for money for beer. I gave him $5 and got the hell out of dodge. On the plus side, he builds furniture and if I ever want a hand carved rocking chair he'll give me $10 off!
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