Lannie Bordelon’s Store by Maurine Bordelon Lacour

The year was 1947. Lannie’s Bordelon’s Store was located in Bayou Rouge, halfway between the sleepy little town of Evergreen and the community of Goudeau. The distance was approximately ten miles between the two. Lannie and Ollie had four children; Joyce, 13 years old, Maurine, 10, and Phil, 7.  Carol was just a toddler. Even though it was a small grocery store, the older kids helped in running it. They knew how to do everything from weighing meat for customers, to fixing the slot machines that graced the entrance of that old country store. One of their chores each night, before closing, was to treat the floors. The store floors were made of rough wooden planks and were very hard to maintain. The weather-beaten farmers formed a steady stream of traffic through the tiny store each day. The red clay dirt fell off their heavy work boots and caused a choking dust to accumulate on those antiquated floors. Lannie bought a heavy red powder in a large barrel which was like grit. Each night, using a tin metal scoop he would generously sprinkle the compound onto the floors until they were completely covered. It would settle the dust and early the next morning, before opening the store for business, Lannie would sweep it out.

On Saturday afternoons, most of the older farmers would gather at the store just whittling the time away discussing politics and the weather. There were three slot machines conventionally located to catch the eye of the customers.  Each of them seemed to beckon and tempt the old farmers as they stood around talking about Huey Long and the new bridges he was going to build. Every now and them, someone would insert a nickel in the slots; everyone would gather around and watch the wheels systematically rolling around. Each man there secretly wishing it had been his turn to waste a whole nickel on something so foolish and yet so exciting. Most of the time, these one armed bandits were only played by the drummers who would visit the store on their weekly rounds of taking wholesale grocery orders.

Lannie Bordelon’s store was typical of most during those days.  It was built shotgun-style with just a small dogleg of a room going off to the left. The room had been an addition to the original structure to accommodate the large sacks of seed and grain, needed so desperately by the farmers. These sacks were originally made of unbleached muslin. Frugal farmer’s wives found numerous ways to use this material to make pillow cases or aprons.  Then one day the distributors started making them in cotton prints and everyone was elated. During those times, women never wore pants but only dresses, even when working in the fields. Therefore, these new prints were perfect for making frocks for everyone in the family. By adding touches of eyelet, lace and making tucks, pleats and gathers, each dress took on its own personality, even though it was the same print as most of the neighbor’s clothing.

Upon entering the store, one glance could easily sweep the entire area. On the immediate right was a long counter covered with worn linoleum and held a scale, an old adding machine and a green cash register. Right in the middle was the forever-present green ledger which held the majority of the purchases made in any given day. Several pencils were scattered around the book. Credit was always extended to everyone in the community. The welfare checks and old age pensions were received once a month and accounts were usually paid at that time. The “drummers” were then paid from the receipts and a new month began. Thirty days later the process was repeated all over again. However, the farmers fell into another category. Their credit was extended from season to season or as their crops came in.

Then above the counter, hanging low was a hand-made dispenser where the cigarettes came out in single file. Past the register was a large glass front counter which displayed an array of candies and treats. One of the favorite candies of the Bordelon kids was coconut balls. They were slightly smaller than a golf ball with a moist coconut filling. The outside had a deep red sugar coating which always seemed to come off on your fingers. They came 120 to a box and retailed for a penny a piece. These wonderful coconut balls were always used by the kids for a quick treat, something to eat in a hurry. Sitting on top of the counter were two large plastic containers, about the size of a five gallon paint can, which held those wonderful moon pies and pink-icing stage plank cakes.

Since the traffic in the store was continuously, house flies presented a problem. So, Lannie bought fly paper and scattered it throughout the store. Fly paper was a long strip with an adhesive coating. As a fly became attached to the paper, that was the end of the fly.  Every so often, the strip was pulled down and cut off to reveal a fresh strip of adhesive.

Then across from the slot machines, a metal dispenser which held a box of kitchen matches, was securely attached to the dingy door frame. Over time, it had become smudged with fingerprints. Customers would come in to buy their cigarettes "loose" or one at the time from an open pack. They could not afford to spend twenty-five cents at one time on a whole pack of cigarettes. The farmers would then get a free kitchen match to light their smokes.  A smaller and more compact version was the “penny box” of matches. These were not widely used because as the farmers worked and sweated in the hot midday sun, the matches would get wet. Times were hard as the country was coming out of a depression so if they could save a penny they would.

The burden of running a store which was barely kept afloat during the depression years caused Lannie and Ollie to reevaluate their choices. The old store was sold to Ollie’s brother, Adley and his wife, Louise in 1950.  Years went by, but the love of running a store was still foremost in Lannie’s heart. He did not like farming. So when Adley closed the store to move to Baton Rouge, Lannie and Ollie decided to build a new store to service the community they loved. It was built across the street in front of their new home. There it remained until 1971 when they moved to Baton Rouge to be near their children. The property was sold and down came the sign “Lannie Bordelon” that for so many years had been a landmark in the community. It was to be no more.