Andrew N. Wegmann - An American Color: Race and Identity in New Orleans and the Atlantic World

An American Color

RACE IN THE ATLANTIC WORLD, 17001900

SERIES EDITORS

Richard S. Newman, Rochester Institute of Technology

Patrick Rael, Bowdoin College

Manisha Sinha, University of Connecticut

ADVISORY BOARD

Edward Baptist, Cornell University

Christopher Brown, Columbia University

Vincent Carretta, University of Maryland

Laurent Dubois, Duke University

Erica Armstrong Dunbar, Rutgers University

Douglas Egerton, LeMoyne College

Leslie Harris, Northwestern University

Joanne Pope Melish, University of Kentucky

Sue Peabody, Washington State University, Vancouver

Erik Seeman, State University of New York, Buffalo

John Stauffer, Harvard University

An American Color

RACE AND IDENTITY IN NEW ORLEANS AND THE ATLANTIC WORLD

Andrew N. Wegmann

The University of Georgia Press

ATHENS

2022 by the University of Georgia Press

Athens, Georgia 30602

www.ugapress.org

All rights reserved

Set in 10.5/13.5 Adobe Caslon Pro Regular

by Kaelin Chappell Broaddus

Most University of Georgia Press titles are available from popular e-book vendors.

Printed digitally

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Wegmann, Andrew N., author.

Title: An American color : race and identity in New Orleans and the Atlantic world / Andrew N. Wegmann.

Other titles: Race in the Atlantic world, 17001900.

Description: Athens : The University of Georgia Press, 2022. | Series: Race in the Atlantic world, 17001900 | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2021031921 | ISBN 9780820360768 (hardback) | ISBN 9780820360782 (paperback) | ISBN 9780820360775 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: African AmericansHistoryTo 1863. | Racially mixed peopleLouisianaNew OrleansHistory. | Racially mixed peopleUnited StatesHistory. | New Orleans (La.)History19th century. | United StatesRace relationsHistory19th century.

Classification: LCC E185.18 .W44 2022 | DDC 305.8009763/35dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021031921

To my parents,

Julie-Ann and Richard Wegmann,

who took me to see the world, allowed me to experience an impossible sense of love and compassion, and gave me the only life I would ever want. This is for them, many years later, for the love, hope, and happiness I will never be able to repay.

And to

Edna Williams and Gerry Rault,

for giving me so much in such different ways.

CONTENTS

I have waited to write these words, more than any of the others, for a very long time. I have written sections like this before, but never has one felt so difficult and foreboding. It is getting late, at least right now, and I am at a loss. This book has been my life for longer than most things. It has seen several homes, many mindsets, and more than a few bouts of hopelessness and wonder. More important than that, though, it has brought a new world to me, a community of people with whom I have grown alongside this book. Most of them appear below, but there are numberless others who have, perhaps without them or me knowing it, given life to this book in ways I could never express or explainsmall chats at coffee shops, their very presence in an archive, longer chats at Parkview Tavern, The Chimes, Highland Coffees, Louies, or anywhere else Ive been over the years and lives it has taken me to finish this work. I appreciate them first, but perhaps not foremost.

Beyond most every person in my life, my parents, Julie-Ann and Richard Wegmann, mean the mostand not only because they gave me, literally, the opportunity to write these words, have these thoughts, and breathe the air I breathe. It goes much further with them. Although this is my only life, it is, as I wrote in the dedication, the only one I could ever want. In their own strange and brilliant ways, they taught me how to think, how to smile and mean it, how to love like nothing else matters in the world. It was unshakable, and still is. They drove me around the world, let me see what I could never imagine, and, from a very early age, taught me to open my eyes, listen for a second, and take a deep breath, even when I didnt know that I wanted to. There is a reason most of my memories appear in the daylight.

My mother is goodness. She is love. She is light. Her life, and all that has made it, gives me a sense of hope and optimism that makes streams of waves. I dont think I know the kind of love she feels. It is a special love, a love that settles and expands throughout a room, or a home, or a city. It is everything I have ever wanted, and it is all I have ever received.

My father worked too hard to make my life easy. He will say, Thats what you do when you love someone. But I could never possibly deserve the kindness, empathy, and generosity he has given me. He taught me humility and altruism, dedication and passion, and his honest interest in my work has been both surprising and inexplicably meaningful. Everything I wrote, I wrote with him in mind; and in many ways, that is what got me to writing this.

My brother, Matt, is an interesting story. As an academic himself and the most New Orleanian of New Orleanians, he always understood when it was time for a beer and a complaint, a sit-down on the porch, watching the cars drive by and talking about how good it was just being there. He saw me through the darkness and brought me up to breathe. He has always stood as that sentinel in the distance, that sense of home that makes each step count, even when strength is gone. He brings passion to each movement, joy to each word. He is unbridled dedication. He is the perfect kind of crazy. He is what I need when I need it. He is fire. He is wisdom. It is perfect.

I like to talk. I like to write. But now, when thinking of my wife, Maia, words turn to feeling. I never thought the world could handle a person like hersomeone so brilliant and beautiful and kind and bright. Her love and life extend beyond what I thought possible before I met her that January night in the parking lot in which, two years later, I would ask her to marry me. She has given me a sense of comfort and home that shouldnt be possible outside of family; but that is what makes it so real. She doesnt need to do anything she does for me. But she does, every day, with heart. She has taught me what it means to love. She has taught me to appreciate the sun, and light, and laughter, and joy. She is my joy. She is each smile and song and ray of sunlight. She is everything Ive ever wanted in a partner, in a wife, in a friend. I am glad to know that I have lived and will always live a life of happiness with her. Without that, I would not have finished this project. I would not have cared enough. But I did, and I do, and I love it because of her.

Geoff Cunningham, Terry Wagner, and Spencer McBride grew up with me, in a way. Geoff and his wife, Jaina, brought me to Manzanita Beach, where I came alive again. In many ways, those two saved me, and I can never thank them enough for it. With Terry, I danced into the night. With Spencer, I shared hotel rooms, archives, an academic lineage, and some of the most interesting conversations of my life. The respect I have for him is endless, both as a scholar and a dear friend. Adam Pratt has become a confidante and friend over the past few years. Im not sure that how similar we are is good for the world, but I know that it has added a great deal to my life and the joy I find in it. He and his wife, Shelli, are gifts, and I look up to them very much. As he knows, I can do this all