Nov

Gardette-Laprete House- Orleans & Dauphine

By Tess

The other day I passed this house- one of my favorites in the French Quarter- and saw that someone has work permits in the window. It’s a little bittersweet- it’s been in need of attention for a long time, but I hope they keep as many of the original elements of the house as possible.

(I’ll have to find a few better pictures to post)

The house was built in 1836 by Joseph Coulon Gardette and sold in 1839 to Jean Baptist Le Prete.

Le Prete furnished the house lavishly, with massive crystal chandeliers and the very best furniture, but his fortunes dwindled. After the Civil War, he was forced to move out and rented the mansion out to a mysterious man who claimed to be the â€œdeposed potentate of a distant eastern realm,â€ according to a 1979 Times -Picayune article.

A procession from the docks soon followed- women, men, eunuchs, huge trunks, tapestries and more all went into the house, the door firmly closed behind them. The airy balconies were soon locked up. Heavy draperies were hung on every window, and men armed with scimitars patrolled the balconies day and night.

Gossip started immediately, of course, the size of his riches and harem both growing with each telling.

One morning a neighbor was passed by the house, looking up at its constantly closed doors and saw blood streaming down the steps and out onto the sidewalk.

The police knocked in the door and found dozens of dead bodies- they’d been hacked into so many pieces an accurate count was impossible- and no one near had heard a thing.

After much searching the Turk himself was found in the small garden, having had his throat cut and been buried alive.

No one was ever charged with the crime, but there are two main theories-

Pirates/ thieves after his riches…though it seems unlikely they could’ve found a way inside the house without a cry being raised

The Turk’s brother- aka the “real” Sultan. There was a power struggle back East around that time and the ruler’s brother disappeared with a good deal of the family fortune. One can assume that didn’t go over too well, and that the Sultan also would’ve had the resources to take care of the problem.

But no one really knows, of course. The house sat vacant for a long time before being purchased, and was eventually cut up into apartments.

In fact, I got to go into those apartments several years ago. I was standing out front, looking up at the ironwork, and a man with bags of groceries came up beside me, trying to figure out what was so interesting.

“It’s a dump, you know,” he said, shrugging.

“Maybe,” I said, “but it’s a dump with a hell of a history.”

It turned out he hadn’t heard the story, he invited me in as I told him what happened here…and here… and there.

You know, I think he really wished he hadn’t stopped to talk to me after I’d told him.