A lovely atmospheric piece on New Orleans by my friend Michael Ravitch is in today’s NY Sun.
Ever since fate brought me to live in New Orleans, I have been full of complaints. First of all, like most life-long New Yorkers, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else but New York City. Plus I never could get interested in the commercialized decadence of Bourbon Street; the flowery cliches of haunted mansions, and jazzy joie de vivre rubbed me the wrong way. All that romantic nonsense seemed to me like a bad perfume, covering up the real stink of a troubled city.
An attenuated version is here. Unfortunately, you must subscribe to the Sun (free trial) for the rest.