The unlikely tale of pirates, a mayor, a French emperor … and a jazz legend

 

Every so often, history offers a story where amazing characters interact with one another so unbelievably, you know it has to be true. This is one of them.

Napoleon Bonaparte was in a serious funk in early 1821. For five long years, the man who once ruled Europe from the Spanish plains to the steppes of Russia had been a captive of the British. They kept him permanently exiled on St. Helena, a volcanic hunk of rock in the South Atlantic some 2,500 miles from Argentina. It was as close to the End of the Earth as you could get. Just to be on the safe side, British warships were anchored nearby.

Napoleon wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Until Nicolas Girod decided to step in.

He passionately loved everything associated with France. Born in French-speaking Savoy, he and his brothers moved to the New World and settled in (where else?) New Orleans.

Girod made lots of money in various business ventures and was well-liked. So it was no surprise when he became the Crescent City’s first popularly-elected mayor in 1812. His inauguration ceremony was conducted in French, because he refused to learn English. When someone pointed out he was the only mayor of a major U.S. city who didn’t speak English, he replied the other mayors should learn French.

And the French thing that Girod loved above all others was l’Emporeur Napoleon himself. In Girod’s eyes, the Little Corporal truly was a rock star.

Then came Waterloo, and St. Helena after that.

It was unbearable for Girod to see his hero languishing in exile. So he decided to do something about it. He would rescue Napoleon and bring him to the United States.

The idea sounds goofy now, but Girod was deadly serious. And remember, when Napoleon had surrendered in the French port of Rochefort he was trying to flee to America.

With Napoleon stuck on an island, Girod would need ships to reach him. And not just any ships, either. Since the British Navy (the world’s most powerful floating force at the time) was constantly patrolling the waters around St. Helena, the vessels had to carry serious firepower and be crewed by men who knew how to use it.

And Girod had just the guys for the job: the Barataria Bay pirates.

They sound like a sports team. But trust me, you wouldn’t wanted to have messed with those guys.

They weren’t the lovable “Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum” scamps from Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean some 100 years earlier. These were more like brutal businessmen who operated outside the law. And they could fire their guns and cannons with deadly efficiency, too.

When Congress passed the Embargo Act of 1807, Americans could no longer import items from Europe. So the pirates smuggled them into Barataria Bay at the very southern tip of Louisiana, hauled them through dismal swamps and sold them for a huge profit on New Orleans’ black market.

It didn’t take them long to realize they could make even more money if they attacked commercial ships (most of them from Spain) and stole their cargo.

The top dog of this very illegal (and highly profitable) operation was a colorful character named Jean Lafitte. He had a real knack for that line of work. While the pirates were American citizens and branded criminals by their government, they took an increasingly bigger bite out of European commerce sailing through the Gulf of Mexico.

Then came the War of 1812. The Brits tried to tempt the pirates into joining their side. But Lafitte instead turned to General Andrew Jackson and cut a deal: the pirates would help defend New Orleans from an impending attack, and then get full pardons afterward. It worked. Lafitte’s ships and men played an important role in soundly beating the British in January 1815 … and they soon received get out of jail free cards from Uncle Sam for their efforts.

Since Mayor Girod owned a lucrative shipping and mercantile business, he knew Lafitte and his pirates well. So it was only natural that he turned to them to put some muscle into his rescue plan.

Girod didn’t keep his goal a secret. In fact, he made sure everyone in New Orleans knew the grand, massive house he was building (which for many years was the city’s largest) was meant to be a haven for Napoleon once he arrived there. Final details were put in place and the mission was just about to set sail.

Then, without warning, Napoleon died on May 5, 1821.

With no former emperor to rescue, Girod’s plan fell apart. Many of Lafitte’s pirates eventually made their way to the Galveston, Texas area where loose law enforcement allowed them to resume their illegal business.

Nicolas Girod was a very rich man when he died in 1840. He was a very generous man, too, for he left nearly $150,000 dollars to establish homes to care for New Orleans’ needy children.

One of them was the “Colored Waifs’ Home.” In 1913, a 12 year-old boy was sent to live there after getting into minor trouble with the police. He had been exposed to music earlier and enjoyed playing the trumpet. He eventually joined the home’s band.

And so began the remarkable career of Louis Armstrong, a man known for his humanity and kind heart as well as his legendary jazz music.

Nicolas Girod never rescued the emperor he adored. (Although the elegant residence he built for him still stands today as the Napoleon House restaurant, where hungry diners have enjoyed New Orleans’ fabled food since 1914).

But in a way, he did leave a different, unintended legacy.

We’ll never know what brilliant schemes Napoleon may have hatched while on our soil. But we’ll always have the sounds of Satchmo’s gravelly voice and sweet horn, plus the memories of that warm, friendly smile, to inspire us.

Did you find this enjoyable? Please continue to join me each week, and I invite you to read Tell it Like Tupper and share your review!

Curious about Tell It Like Tupper? Here’s a chance to see for yourself. Take a sneak peek at a couple chapters in this free downloadable excerpt.