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5. The Story of Those Columns
- Louisiana State University Press
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35 5 The Story of Those Columns From the River Road, passersby may never notice the mysterious stand of architectural stubs in the shadows of a grove of old oaks. The site is almost lost within the surrounding sweep of pasture dotted with grazing cattle; no clue to the identity of the weathered ruins remains. For almost a century and a half, everyone knew this place as The Cottage Plantation. She was an elegant antebellum mansion that reigned like a queen over the sharp elbow of land known as Conrad Point just south of Baton Rouge. The house arguably claimed the most dramatic setting of any plantation along the River Road, nestled in a dense grove of oaks, magnolias, and pecan trees and situated on the point to take advantage of the glorious sweep of Mississippi River, which wrapped around the property. Visitors always exclaimed over the dramatic view. But in 1960, a swift and raging fire reduced the handsome house to rubble in a matter of hours. Only the prominent verticals of brick chimneys and columns finally remained, most often referred to as “romantic ruins” as they were allowed to slowly disintegrate through the years. I’d always noticed this architectural anachronism sitting starkly among the grassland and complacent cows and was curious about its 36 River Road Rambler story. And, as I poked about the rubble in the company of one of the current owners, I thought I could still sense a palpable sense of loss. My escort had been a teen when the fire destroyed The Cottage; she is among the last generation of Conrad descendants who enjoyed the old country house, felt its charm. The river still makes its broad run around Conrad Point, but the crumbled and weather-beaten remains of The Cottage have long been protected by a fence surrounding the property that is adorned with no-nonsense “No Trespassing” signs. They were erected because treasure hunters once assumed that something of value must be left in the vestiges, and lovers were enticed by some indescribable aura. Today, there is nothing of value to be found and no privacy for lovers amid the scattered brick remains grown over with dandelions and blackberry vines and rosettes of cabbage thistle. Soon after the dramatic fire, one of owners of The Cottage was asked about the family’s plans to rebuild. “It could be rebuilt,” she replied thoughtfully, “but never replaced because of its history.” But, she might have added, I hope it will never be forgotten. First, the name: a bit of mistaken identity. In the early nineteenth century, New Orleans attorney Abner Duncan bought various tracts of land on the prominent Mississippi River point and consolidated them into a single large property located on what was subsequently identified as Duncan Point. He built a modest home where the family retreated for vacations, saying they were “going to the cottage.” In 1824 when Duncan’s daughter, Frances, married Frederick Conrad , Duncan’s young law associate from Virginia, Abner built for the young couple an elegant house near the family getaway. Somehow the new house also became known as The Cottage, with capital letters. The proud father spared no expense. The new mansion was constructed in the classical revival style so popular during the period, with slave-made plastered brick on the lower floor and hand-hewn oak and cypress above, all encircled by a broad gallery supported by plastered Doric columns on giant pedestals. The gallery was so broad, in fact, that when the family decided to add an indoor kitchen [18.226.166.214] Project MUSE (2024-04-18 00:44 GMT) The Story of Those Columns 37 and other rooms in the 1920s, the back corners of the gallery were simply enclosed without adding square footage. And more than one visitor commented on the front entrance to the house, which featured graceful rounded steps that led to a heavy paneled front door, flanked by fluted columns and handsome sidelights, and topped with an arched fanlight. The walls of The Cottage were two feet thick. The house contained twenty-two rooms—eleven on each of its two main living floors, each floor divided by a broad hallway. On the ground floor, two large parlors were separated by folding paneled doors that could be opened with a tug on their silver doorknobs into a single large room. Across the hall from the parlors were a library and music room, each finished with mahogany woodwork and...