“You see, my boy, we live—or have lived to this very day—in Lafayette City, a distinct and separate city of our own people, our own mayor, our own police, God bless ’em all. But this day, as I said, boy, is historic. The mayor and city fathers in their wisdom, have seen fit to join us to the city of New Orleans by law, as we have long been in fact. Nothing but an imaginary line on the downtown side of Felicity Road has divided us before. Now we will become one. You will see. A wedding you will witness, a wedding of two cities.... ’Til death us do part.” Layton père was warming up to the occasion and rather enjoying the attention of the crowd which smiled benignly at his efforts.
By this time the mule car had come to a stop at Magazine Street where several people got on, further packing the omnibus until passengers were hanging on the stairs outside. As the car started up again, faint sounds of music, a brass band, were heard, coming from the center of the city’s activity.
“It’s a great day, isn’t it, Mr. Layton?” said a red-faced man from behind a well-starched collar, sitting next to them, “becoming the fourth district of New Orleans, and all that.”
“That it is, sir, now that we can be sure the new city government will treat us properly. That’s why we held off before, you know. They assume our indebtedness, $504,800, I believe, and we share in their expenses and in the McDonogh fund—all in proportion, as it should be. No one can complain now.”
As the omnibus crossed Laurel, young John glanced anxiously to the right, looking up the street between Jackson and Philip at the quiescent Lafayette Public School building, making sure there was really a holiday. No sign of life there relieved him immensely, for the Principal, Mr. Lewis Elkin, brooked no absentees without due cause, which usually meant near death.
The tired mules, knowing the end of the line and a well-earned rest were imminent, slowed to scant mobility, just as the “Governor Johnson” passed the Orphan Asylum buildings between Chippewa and Rousseau. Young John steeled himself for the standard lecture from Layton père on counting his blessings that he had loving parents, et cetera. Surprisingly, it didn’t come and then John realized that was because everybody was getting ready to disembark.
The mule car stopped at the Jackson Market. Here the street parted to pass on each side of the two-story, whitewashed building which extended almost across Rousseau Street. Passengers poured out of the omnibus, Laytons included, and all joined a large assemblage of noisy citizens, ready for a convivial occasion.
On Jackson, toward Levee Street, at their left, a big United States flag hung from the editorial offices of the Lafayette Statesman, where J. G. Fanning, its indomitable editor, was holding a sort of wake as his days as “official city printer” came to an end.
Asylum for Destitute Orphan Boys, established in 1824, occupied site on Jackson between Chippewa and Rousseau where hospital stands today.