Posted by
Bill Cherry on Monday, August 18, 2008 11:21:37 PM
In most states when someone dies, the date of their death and their death certificate are recorded as a public record. It's a good thing, especially for people like me who are historians.
Oddly Louisiana keeps this information a secret, and apparently it's a secret that is hard if not impossible to breech.
In the late 1950s while I was a student at Tulane, I had a major crush on a girl my age (18) who was a waitress at Dan's Pier 600 on the corner of Bourbon and St. Louis streets in the French Quarter. Dan's Pier 600 was an up-scale night club where Al Hirt and his combo were the permanent entertainers.
Her name was Evelyn Hughey, and her sister, Rachel Cooper worked there also. Rachel was the wife of Al's clarinet player, Harold Cooper.
When I left New Orleans, I lost track of Evelyn, but a year or so thereafter, someone told me that she had married either a New Orleans policeman or fireman.
A couple of years ago, through a rather involved story, I learned from Bob Havens, Al's trombone player back then, that he thought that Evelyn had died in child birth. He didn't know anything more than that.
I was shocked and I wanted to know for sure.
First,I tried to find her sister Rachel with no luck. Then I asked Dan Levy, who had owned the club if he knew. He didn't.
I paid one of the Internet record-search services to see if they could find out. They couldn't.
Then I asked the New Orleans Times-Picayune librarian to search the obituaries to see if there was anything there. He said there wasn't.
Finally, my family had used a New Orleans law firm, Buchler & Buchler for years for business they conducted in Louisiana. Mr. Buchler tried but couldn't get the information nor could his brother-in-law who owns a New Orleans funeral home.
So while I pray that Evelyn did not die in child birth and that she has lived a happy life, I cannot understand why a person's death is kept a secret in Louisiana. And in this case, I'll never be allowed to know the answer.