A Taste of Southern Comfort
Once a month, Cajun fans gather in Culver City for good times, Gumbo and plenty of toe-tapping music
January 15, 1989
Jim Schmaltz
LA Times
A man in his 60s plays an accordion and sings in fluent French. In front of him, a tall guy named Stretch leads his equally statuesque partner through a series of dips and twirls, while a stunning brunette dances with an unkempt stranger twice her age. Behind them, a group of people devour large bowls of homemade gumbo. All this in a building next to a Hare Krishna temple.
What is going on here? In the words of rock singer David Byrne, this ain't no disco.
"This dance is like going home," says Genni Wallace, a full-blooded Cherokee Indian from North Carolina and one of the regulars. "It's the elixir of life. Your heart will keep beating after they put you in the ground."
The object of this homespun hyperbole is the Cajun Dance in Culver City, held at the Culver City Masonic Temple the first Friday of every month. Residents and out-of-towners become gumbo-fueled dervishes to the two-stepping melodies of the Louisiana Cajun Trio, a group that includes two renowned old-time Cajun musicians, accordionist Wilfred Latour and fiddler Edgar Le Day. Now in its fourth year, the Cajun Dance transforms this small Westside dance hall into Southwest Louisiana, giving L.A. residents a rare opportunity to go beyond blackened seafood and experience authentic backwoods Louisiana culture.
"The unique thing about this dance is the special tension in the music," says Carolyn Russell, 54, the organizer of the dance and the third member of the Trio. "It has a special dissonance that appeals to people. It's raw."
Russell became active on the local dance scene after becoming involved with the California Dance Cooperative, a nonprofit organization that oversees the Cajun Dance and several English country-style dances (known as contra) in the Los Angeles area.
Like all the Co-op affairs, the Cajun Dance provides free dance instruction, doesn't serve alcohol and costs $4. Though the English dances are more frequent and more popular, Russell says, the Cajun Dance draws an average of 60 to 80 people--and the number is growing. Those who attend seem to have an enduring passion for it.
One of the more dedicated dance regulars is Lisa Richardson, 26, a major in ethnic music at UCLA. Last year, Richardson saw a flyer for the dance and took a bus from campus to the Masonic Temple. The result was an obsession not only for the music, but for the entire Cajun culture.
"It was something totally different," recalls Richardson. "I ended up going to Southwest Louisiana for the summer." There she studied the music and the culture, and fell in love with a Cajun. Since her return to Westwood, she says, she has never missed a dance.
The Louisiana Cajun Trio formed 3 years ago after guitarist Russell met Le Day and Latour. They grew up together in French-speaking Basile, La., but didn't become musical partners until Latour moved to Southern California in 1984. Both retired now, they team up with Russell for parties and special engagements, playing either their 1930s-style French Cajun music or the resurgent zydeco, a more upbeat, electrified type of Cajun music made popular in recent years by Queen Ida.
Russell says Le Day, 64, and Latour are purists, two of the last musicians who perform the older Cajun songs. "Edgar is one of only a few fiddlers in the world who can play this style of music," she says.
Though strong men may flee at the sight of an accordion, in the skillful hands of Latour, it's a haunting, lively instrument. A quiet man who speaks like a Cajun Dexter Gordon, Latour first picked up the accordion at age 7, and 60 years later he shows remarkable stamina, singing his bluesy French vocals during the Trio's two lengthy sets--2 straight hours, a break, then another 1 1/2 hours.
Latour is the designated leader of the group, where he applies his rare talent for leading a dance. "Wilfred has an unerring sense about dancers," Russell explains. "He can read the dance floor like nobody I've ever seen. He can shake people up when he has to."
So can Latour's wife, Elvina, simply by serving her potent sausage-chicken-shrimp gumbo. Elvina spends 2 hours the day of every dance cooking 5 to 6 gallons of her own special recipe at the Latours' Lynwood home, then transporting it to Culver City, where it sells for $3 a bowl. She spends the duration of the dance in the kitchen, which is fine with her. "I've had my share of dancing," she says.
The gumbo is served all night long, starting at 6:30, as hungry hoofers begin filing into the hall. The music won't start until 7:30, when the Trio performs their music in spurts, to give the dance instructors time to turn the roomful of two-left-footers into Cajun stompers. Doing the honors are Randall and Andrea Brown, a married couple who met at a Cajun dance.
"We teach a Texas swing, my generation's style of dance," says Randall, 36, a New Orleans native. "It's very aerobic, very active. There's no book on it, so I can't tell you you're doing it wrong."
Once a month, Cajun fans gather in Culver City for good times, Gumbo and plenty of toe-tapping music
January 15, 1989
Jim Schmaltz
LA Times
 |
| Wilfred Latour, known as the King of French Music, was band leader and lead accordionist of Wilfred Latour and His Travel Aces. (Photo Credit: Nick Spitzer) |
What is going on here? In the words of rock singer David Byrne, this ain't no disco.
"This dance is like going home," says Genni Wallace, a full-blooded Cherokee Indian from North Carolina and one of the regulars. "It's the elixir of life. Your heart will keep beating after they put you in the ground."
The object of this homespun hyperbole is the Cajun Dance in Culver City, held at the Culver City Masonic Temple the first Friday of every month. Residents and out-of-towners become gumbo-fueled dervishes to the two-stepping melodies of the Louisiana Cajun Trio, a group that includes two renowned old-time Cajun musicians, accordionist Wilfred Latour and fiddler Edgar Le Day. Now in its fourth year, the Cajun Dance transforms this small Westside dance hall into Southwest Louisiana, giving L.A. residents a rare opportunity to go beyond blackened seafood and experience authentic backwoods Louisiana culture.
"The unique thing about this dance is the special tension in the music," says Carolyn Russell, 54, the organizer of the dance and the third member of the Trio. "It has a special dissonance that appeals to people. It's raw."
Russell became active on the local dance scene after becoming involved with the California Dance Cooperative, a nonprofit organization that oversees the Cajun Dance and several English country-style dances (known as contra) in the Los Angeles area.
Like all the Co-op affairs, the Cajun Dance provides free dance instruction, doesn't serve alcohol and costs $4. Though the English dances are more frequent and more popular, Russell says, the Cajun Dance draws an average of 60 to 80 people--and the number is growing. Those who attend seem to have an enduring passion for it.
One of the more dedicated dance regulars is Lisa Richardson, 26, a major in ethnic music at UCLA. Last year, Richardson saw a flyer for the dance and took a bus from campus to the Masonic Temple. The result was an obsession not only for the music, but for the entire Cajun culture.
"It was something totally different," recalls Richardson. "I ended up going to Southwest Louisiana for the summer." There she studied the music and the culture, and fell in love with a Cajun. Since her return to Westwood, she says, she has never missed a dance.
The Louisiana Cajun Trio formed 3 years ago after guitarist Russell met Le Day and Latour. They grew up together in French-speaking Basile, La., but didn't become musical partners until Latour moved to Southern California in 1984. Both retired now, they team up with Russell for parties and special engagements, playing either their 1930s-style French Cajun music or the resurgent zydeco, a more upbeat, electrified type of Cajun music made popular in recent years by Queen Ida.
Russell says Le Day, 64, and Latour are purists, two of the last musicians who perform the older Cajun songs. "Edgar is one of only a few fiddlers in the world who can play this style of music," she says.
Though strong men may flee at the sight of an accordion, in the skillful hands of Latour, it's a haunting, lively instrument. A quiet man who speaks like a Cajun Dexter Gordon, Latour first picked up the accordion at age 7, and 60 years later he shows remarkable stamina, singing his bluesy French vocals during the Trio's two lengthy sets--2 straight hours, a break, then another 1 1/2 hours.
Latour is the designated leader of the group, where he applies his rare talent for leading a dance. "Wilfred has an unerring sense about dancers," Russell explains. "He can read the dance floor like nobody I've ever seen. He can shake people up when he has to."
So can Latour's wife, Elvina, simply by serving her potent sausage-chicken-shrimp gumbo. Elvina spends 2 hours the day of every dance cooking 5 to 6 gallons of her own special recipe at the Latours' Lynwood home, then transporting it to Culver City, where it sells for $3 a bowl. She spends the duration of the dance in the kitchen, which is fine with her. "I've had my share of dancing," she says.
The gumbo is served all night long, starting at 6:30, as hungry hoofers begin filing into the hall. The music won't start until 7:30, when the Trio performs their music in spurts, to give the dance instructors time to turn the roomful of two-left-footers into Cajun stompers. Doing the honors are Randall and Andrea Brown, a married couple who met at a Cajun dance.
"We teach a Texas swing, my generation's style of dance," says Randall, 36, a New Orleans native. "It's very aerobic, very active. There's no book on it, so I can't tell you you're doing it wrong."
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