I’ve always loved maps, from old-time gas-station road maps to historical maps to maps of imaginary places. As a child, I delighted in preparing maps of places I’d dreamed up for make-believe play, and in my teens that turned into preparing maps for the world of my D&D campaign, ranging from dungeons my players would explore all the way up to the entire world they lived in. And though I rarely draw my own any more, I’m still always excited to find maps which show me something I didn’t know before, or at least didn’t know in sufficient detail. Case in point, the map at right, which some of y’all may recognize as depicting the western half of New Orleans; the part that was important to me is a small detail which those of y’all unfamiliar with New Orleans history may not recognize as interesting without explanation.
Last month I wrote about discovering a guide (including maps) to New Orleans’ extensive streetcar system of the early 20th century. But before the streetcars there were canals, leading from the then-much-smaller city through the swamps to the north, ending in Lake Pontchartrain (which connects to the Gulf of Mexico through a tidal channel named The Rigolets). I always knew about the New Basin Canal because it was not filled in until the 1940s, and in my youth I knew several older folks who remembered it. But in one of those strange oversights which often affect even people with relatively sharp minds, it had never occurred to me to ask where the Old Basin Canal had been! Furthermore, I never realized just how far the New Basin Canal came into the city until I found this map while researching for The Big Boom. If you zoom in you’ll see a straight channel running from the end of Bayou St. John (the wriggly thing just to the right of the map’s centerline), labeled “Carondelet Canal“. That’s what it was officially named from 1794 until the 1830s, when people started calling it the “Old Basin Canal” in contrast with the newly-completed New Basin Canal. If you look at a modern map of New Orleans, you can see a narrow strip of green running from Louis Armstrong Park to the end of the Bayou (very close to where I lived from 2004-2006, incidentally); that’s the former route of the canal, which was filled in by the city in the 1920s after the new Industrial Canal opened in 1923. The famous Basin Street of Storyville fame and jazz legend was named for the turning basin at the terminus, just north of the Vieux Carre.
That was exciting enough, but the part I got really jazzed about (ahem) was realizing that the New Basin Canal went so far into the city. If any of y’all have ever driven on West End Blvd in New Orleans, you’ve probably been impressed with its incredibly wide neutral ground (grassy median); the reason it’s that wide is it’s the filled-in route of the canal. But at the foot of that Boulevard, where it meets I-10 today, the canal once jogged over and continued almost to the river. After the canal was closed in the late 1940s, the Pontchartrain Expressway was built over the route in the 1950s; in the 1960s the expressway became part of I-10. The area of the filled-in turning basin was used by the city for storage until the late ’60s, when it was decided to build the Superdome there. So if you ever drive through New Orleans toward the Superdome on I-10 coming from the direction of the airport, you’re following a transportation corridor which has been there for just short of 200 years, only now on land rather than water.
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