The Voodoo Queen of the Bayou
Dark arts and mysticism have deep roots in the swamps of old New Orleans. Perhaps no single idol carries as much intrigue and mystery as Marie Laveaux.
But was she really gifted with the dark arts, or was her influence rooted in something more corporeal?
Legend has it that Laveaux wielded voodoo’s ancient secrets. She was a noted clairvoyant and purveyor of goods meant to grant wishes, ward off evil, and even bring true love. Rumors of conferring with the dead captivated people through both reverence and dread. But her magic may have more simple roots than that.
As a hairdresser to the wealthy ruling class, she had access to something perhaps even more powerful than voodoo magic: gossip. From beneath curlers, bonnets, and other devices more closely associated with dungeons, the elites of the bayou would flap their gums with more spice than grandma’s gumbo.
Access to these hot winds of slander and shrimp tail nuggets of closed-door intelligence was her real power. And Laveaux wielded this power with more prowess than the greatest politicians.
But still, whispers echoed through the cobblestone streets of her uncanny sorcery — her healing touch, her divinations, and her spellbinding rituals by the murky Mississippi River.
Whether you believe in her supernatural abilities or not, her power is inarguable. Men and women flocked to her, seeking forbidden desires — love, revenge, protection. Her presence evoked both awe and fear, her rituals shrouded in enigmatic allure.
And, in death, her legend has only grown.
Her burial site is the subject of some debate thanks to author Robert Tallant. Whether or not it is the tomb of her final rest, plot 347, the Glapion family crypt in Saint Louis Cemetery №1, transcends a memorial.
Tourists would flock, marking X’s on Marie Laveaux’s tomb — a tradition passed down in much less than seance. Three spins, a knock, a wish unleashed. If granted, they’d return, encircling their X, leaving an offering to the voodoo queen.
Seeking more than a wink and a nose wrinkle or a simple “your wish is granted,” the Misfits, yes those Misfits, attempted to exhume Madame Laveaux after a concert in 1982. But unless their heart’s desire was a cold bench in a crowded jail cell, they were unsuccessful in tapping the voodoo queen’s gift.
The tomb was closed to public access in 2015. But spirits don’t give a damn about your mortal coils or cages, so I like to believe they still flock for tea and jambalaya.
Enigmatic till death, the news rags from Nola to NYC described her posthumously as a woman of great beauty, intellect, and charisma who was also pious, charitable, and a skilled herbal healer. Sounds like she went into the Earth with some dirt on a few publishers.
Want to dance with the priestess? Try leaving a hair tie by the plaque at her former home at 1020 St. Ann Street.
What secrets would you trade to have your greatest wish granted? What wards would help you sleep at night?
Don’t tell me, tell it Marie Laveaux. But don’t forget the scrunchie.
