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In Cajun country, the music never stops

From morning till night, dancers' feet thump the floor, the energetic steps elicited by guitars, handcrafted melodeons - and even spoon handles and washboards.

BREAUX BRIDGE, LA. - The walls of the building housing the Cafe des Amis are old, bare brick, the floors are worn-smooth planks and the ceiling of pressed-tin is supported by wooden columns. It makes for a box strong enough to hold the thumping music that wraps around the dancers crowding the floor on Saturday mornings.

That's right: mornings. If you didn't squeeze into the cafe by 9:30 a.m., you're going to have wait your turn to dance.

So you might as well lean against the long wooden bar or stand against those brick walls, keeping time to the up-tempo beat.

Or maybe you'll be lucky enough to find space at a table, where you can eat the freshly baked beignet and sip cafe au lait. Eat, sip and watch the happy crush of bodies moving up and down.

Dancing together are young folk with old, black with white, thin with chubby, mother with toddler, one man with two women, elementary school students with each other, people who didn't know their partners until one asked the other to get up and become part of the bobbing crowd.

People are dressed in everything from sleeveless blouses to dashikis, sandals to sneakers, cowboy hats to baseball hats. After most dances, the men take handkerchiefs, even washcloths, from a back pocket and dab at the sweat. The women merely glisten.

And everyone, everyone, is smiling.

Owner Dickie Breaux had increased his business some four years back when he booked jazz combos to play for diners on Friday nights. But since he added the "zydeco breakfast" in 1998, Cafe de Amis has enjoyed SRO Saturdays.

Starting about 9 a.m. and going for at least three hours, groups such as Little Nathan and the Zydeco Big Timers play almost nonstop. People waiting their turn outside peer through the cafe's plate-glass windows and bounce to the music.

Through the glass they can see "Little Nathan" Williams Jr., 17-year-old son of a well-known musician, play his big accordion, backed by guitars, a pal running spoonhandles or thimbles over the musical washboard called a rub-board and, occasionally, Nathan's 5-year-old brother, Naylon, perfectly pounding out the beat on a full set of drums.

Similar scenes are playing out elsewhere in southwestern Louisiana - 55 miles away in Mamou, the dancing starts at the venerable Fred's Lounge at 7:30 a.m. Saturdays, and the music is Cajun. The state calls its counties parishes, and 22 of them in the south and west comprise Cajun Country.

The word Cajun is a corruption of the French-Canadian word Acadian. That was the name for the French who began settling in 1604 in a maritime area they called Acadie (AH-CAH-dee). Control of the region changed about 10 times between the French and British, who finally forced thousands of the settlers to leave their rich farmlands, in 1755. That area is now the province of Nova Scotia.

In the late 1760s, many of the exiles came to Louisiana, where they were welcomed by its Spanish colonial officials, happy to have more settlers.

Even then, the area was a true melting pot. Inhabitants included American Indians, former slaves (now referred to as free people of color), Spaniards, French, Germans, Caribbean natives, plus the Cajuns.

Now numbering an estimated 700,000, the Cajuns retained much of their original culture and language but also had to make significant changes in their everyday lives.

"They had to "reverse engineer' everything they had known from life in Canada," says Carl A. Brasseaux, a professor of Cajun culture at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, the city that is the unofficial capital of Cajun Country.

"Up north, their houses had been designed to retain heat, and their clothes had been made of wool - you don't value that in this muggy climate."

And one of the other things they adopted more than 200 years ago has become a centerpiece of the Cajun music that originated in Louisiana.

"People here are unique, because of this crazy mix of people - we've come from all over," says Todd Mouton, a freelance writer and part-time musician. Mouton also works for Louisiana Crossroads, a state agency that promotes cultural tourism.

"It was German settlers who brought us the little 10-button accordions" in the 19th century, he continues. "They moved west and left the instruments behind, but without instruction books or repair manuals.

"We decided we could build our own" accordions.

The resulting instruments are called melodeons and are miniature versions of the so-called piano accordions associated with polka musicians or bandleaders such as Lawrence Welk - and Little Nathan Williams.

"It isn't known who was the first person to play one of these adapted accordions," Mouton says, "or whether they played a French or a German song, or whether it was a white musician or a black musician. It doesn't matter to us."

He describes the little boxes as "incredibly strong - you can stand on them. And incredibly loud. As an amateur fiddler, I can tell you that at our practice sessions the only rule is, no accordions."

No sooner has the 20-something Mouton said that, with a smile, than he escorts some visiting writers into a small factory in the community of Scott, 15 miles from Breaux Bridge. Mouton introduces owner Clarence "Junior" Martin, who makes melodeons by hand.

Martin in turn introduces his daughter, Penny, who is an assistant elementary school principal but who works at Martin Accordions Inc. on the weekends. Father and daughter then take turns explaining how they and other workers spend 80 to 120 hours creating each melodeon.

That doesn't include the 21/2-hour drive each way to the lumberyard in New Orleans, where Junior Martin handpicks three kinds of maple and 17 other woods that he uses to fashion the boxes.

"There is no soft-grain wood" in his melodeons, says Martin. "Denser grain, tighter grain, gives you a nice, mellow sound."

Melodeons contain 40 metal reeds to make the treble sounds, plus six reeds for bass sounds, and each reed produces a different sound when the cardboard bellows are pushed together than when they are pulled apart.

"We tune the reeds before we insert them (in their wood holders), after we insert them, and then we tune them again by ear" when assembly of the melodeon is finished, Penny Martin says.

Because most of Martin's instruments are custom-made, "each accordion is tuned to best match the voice of the player," her father adds. "The majority of professional accordion players have at least two, some have four."

His prices start at $1,225 and rise if the box is made with an exotic wood.

"I just sold one with abalone inlays for $2,300," Martin says.

Now he and his employees are as busy fixing accordions or replacing broken reeds as making new instruments.

He recounts that as a boy, "I wanted to play the accordion (like) my grandfather and an uncle." But the uncle who took him to the music store "had been listening to Hank Williams on the radio," playing the guitar.

"When we got to the store, the accordion was $27.50 and the guitar was $25. He bought me the guitar."

Though he worked at other crafts, about 17 years ago, "I started making an accordion, and things got out of hand."

His daughter discloses a family secret: "I read music, but he does not. . . . But we have a small band that includes his 17-year-old grandson.

"We come (to the factory) in the morning and say, "What are we going to do first - work or play?' Usually we say, "Play.' "

With that, Junior sits down at his handsome, custom-made slide guitar and Penny picks up a Martin melodeon, with its trademark white silhouette of a crawfish on the black bellows, and they start to play - first Amazing Grace, then a Cajun tune.

Penny Martin, who is 42, says that "when I was in high school, Cajun music was not cool. I started with the piano and then the guitar."

But Cajun is cool enough now that informal jam sessions are regular events throughout the region. That's the case on Saturday afternoons in the former house that is now Louisiana Heritage & Gifts, on a suburban road in Lafayette.

The unassuming one-story house is now operated by husband and wife musicians Mitchell and Lisa Reed. The four front rooms are filled with T-shirts, souvenirs, musical instruments, a rack of CDs of Cajun and zydeco music, and gag items: one desktop item labeled "Cajun Yard Dog" has a cartoon of an alligator on a leash by a doghouse painted with the name Fideaux.

But what draws people to the house is what's happening on its side porch, where the walls are paneled in pine, the floors are linoleum and two oscillating fans push air to cool 20 or so folks in rows of folding chairs. They listen to the musicians sitting at one end of the porch in a circle so wide that it has a couple of spokes to accommodate late-arriving players.

On this particular afternoon, the circle and spokes hold eight fiddlers, four acoustic guitarists, two electric guitars and just one accordion - for it is the accordion player who is the leader of each song.

All but three of the 15 musicians who have dropped by are men; the players range in age from about 20 to white-haired retirees.

A couple of fellows take turns on the accordion. No song title is ever announced, but everyone seems to know what notes to play, at what tempo. The occasional bursts of song are in the Cajun dialect still in use 250 years after the first exiles arrived here.

On a table at the back of the porch, a musician has placed a fiddle case that bears a small decal:

KRVS, Radio Acadie

Lafayette & Lake Charles

Before he sits in with his fiddle, Todd Mouton tells his group of writers that this jam session is so popular some of the older regulars purposely began showing up earlier, so they could play with - and gently heckle - each other. The change in times didn't matter, because quickly enough, other musicians began showing up earlier, too.

So they finally reset the start time and decided to play longer. There is no charge to listen - for hours if you want - to this little orchestra with its ever-changing set of faces.

What they do not play here is zydeco music, which is less than 50 years old and has the flavor of rhythm and blues, New Orleans jazz and an urban percussion. The word zydeco (ZY-deh-ko) is a corruption of a Cajun colloquialism referring to people being poor; the music, however, is attributed to the rhythms nurtured by Louisiana-born descendants of African slaves.

There is a good deal of crossover between Cajun and zydeco, with many songs in each genre sung in French. Both styles have fast songs and slow songs, both use accordions. But zydeco bands usually feature the rub-board and drums. A modern Cajun band might have the pedal steel guitar, a country and western basic such as the one Junior Martin plays, while a zydeco band is more likely to have electric bass guitars.

You can hear both kinds of music on the back deck of the Blue Moon Saloon and Guesthouse in downtown Lafayette.

At the Wednesday night jam sessions, the musicians tend to be younger than at the jams on the porch at Louisiana Heritage & Gifts. The audiences are younger, too.

And the crowds who come for the jams or the professional bands at the Blue Moon have caused owner Mark Falgout to repeatedly enlarge the wooden patio during the Saloon's three years. He has even added a sort of two-row wooden bleachers against one wall, because the dancers took up so much of the deck there was too little room for tables.

Falgout - think Brad Pitt in another dozen years - says the Blue Moon came about because he wanted to become conversant in French, not just the Cajun dialect of his immediate family. So he traveled in France and then Europe, often staying at hostels to save money.

He brought the hostel idea to Lafayette, converting an Acadian-style home built about 130 years ago. Its variety of rooms can accommodate 28. As the Blue Moon Web site informs potential guests, the nightly rate (about $15) includes a free drink when the bar is open and "live music Wednesday through Sunday."

Houseguests and music lovers find dancing partners or sit in the bleachers watching those on the floor. Probably more than a few have begun their weekends at Lafayette's weekly "Downtown Alive!" outdoor concerts (the motto: "Get up and get dancin'!").

And I saw more than a few who still had enough energy to dance the next morning at the Cafe des Amis, just 9 miles away in Breaux Bridge.

But if they do get tired, they can always look for a seat and a chance to order the beignet and cafe au lait. And watch the bodies bobbing up and down.

THE MUSIC VENUES: To learn more about, or to stop by to enjoy, the music venues mentioned here, contact the following:

Cafe des Amis, 140 E Bridge St., Breaux Bridge; 337 332-5273. The Web site, which includes a calendar of performances, is at www.cafedesamis.com The zydeco breakfast takes place from 8:30 to 11:30 Saturday mornings; acoustic music is played from 7 to 9 on selected Wednesday nights.

Martin Accordions Inc., 2143 W Willow St., Scott; 337 232-4001; http://martinaccordions.com There are no scheduled performances, but the staff will demonstrate the melodeons - and who knows . . .?

Louisiana Heritage & Gifts, 500 E Gloria Switch Road, Lafayette; 337 237-9258; www.laheritageandgifts.com/index1.html Jam sessions are scheduled for 2 to 5 Saturdays, but you might as well come early; musicians will.

Blue Moon Saloon and Guesthouse, 215 E Convent St., Lafayette; 337 234-2422; www.bluemoonhostel.com/site The Web site has a calendar of performances as well as descriptions of the various guest rooms and their rates. There is a $5 cover charge for the nights when bands are playing but no charge for jam-session nights.

Downtown Alive! holds Friday afternoon free concerts in a Lafayette park, from mid March to mid June; after that, the heat and humidity make dancing outdoors a chore. The Web site has a calendar of events, www.downtownalive.org or call 337 291-5566.

Web sites that provide performance calendars and are casually authoritative include:

http://users.erols.com/ghayman/thepatsyreport.htm

http://users.erols.com/ghayman/index.html

www.bme.jhu.edu/jrice/NewFiles/SWGuide.html#Anchor-Zydec-15876

CAJUN HISTORY: The history of the Acadians is presented at several places in and near Lafayette:

* Acadian Village is a collection of eight authentic homes dating to 1800 and re-located to either side of a small bayou. Admission: $7 for adults, $6 senior citizens, $4 children ages 6-14, free for children 5 years and younger. 337 981-2489; www.acadianvillage.org

* Vermilionvillecq is a much larger historical park on the banks of the Vermilioncq River. Six authentic structures and 12 reconstructions are furnished with period items, and costumed interpreters demonstrate crafts and chores from during the period 1765-1890. Admission: $8 for adults, $6.50 for those 65 and older; $5 for children ages 6-18; free for those 5 and younger. Call toll-free 1-866-992-2968, or 337 233-4077; www.vermillionville.org

* Jean Lafitte Acadian Cultural Center is a National Park Service facility. While there are some exhibits, the main attraction is a film, melodramatic at times, that relates the story of the Acadians' exile and difficult journey to this area. 337 232-0789; www.nps.gov/jela/AcadianCulturalCenter.htm

* St. Martinville is a town of about 7,100, 16 miles southeast of Lafayette. Around the turn of the 20th century, townsfolk designated a large oak close to the waterway named Bayou Teche as the Evangeline Oak; that refers to the heroine of Longfellow's tragic poem about an Acadian woman forever separated from her fiance during the exile.

Selection of that tree was an imaginative gesture, but the small town does have many worthwhile historical stops, including:

Close to the oak is the St. Martin de Tours Catholic Church, founded in 1765 and thus considered the "mother church" of the Acadians.

James Akers is often on hand to discuss history at the interesting Cultural Heritage Center. One wing of the center relates the story of of the Cajun people; another wing is an intriguing presentation of the role played by Africans, both as slaves and as freed people.

Next to the Cultural Center is a building housing the Acadian Memorial, a 12- xby 30-foot mural showing the Acadians arriving in Louisiana. One wall here has the names of 13,000 people as listed on the original manifests of the boats.

For more on sites in St. Martinville, call 337 394-2250; or go to http://stmartinparish-la.org/tourism_attractions.htm

HOT, HOT HOT: Finally, if you feel you must visit the home of Tabasco Pepper Sauce, it has been produced since just after the Civil War in Avery Island, about 30 miles from Lafayette.

Yes, you will smell the vinegar, see some how-we-make-it videos in a waiting room (when I was there, the audio was turned too low to hear) and will stroll past a sauce-bottling line that is behind glass. But that walk lasts just a few seconds and is preceded by sitting in a small theater and having to watch an 8-minute commercial for the product. The on-screen narrator calls to mind the TV "weather girls" of the 1970s.

The gift shop, with its trove of logo merchandise, is far more interesting than the plant.

On the other hand, you can print out free recipes, and your visit includes a drive through the graceful, 200-acre Jungle Gardens & Bird City. The flocks of egrets - they claim at least 20,000 roost here - and the groves of magnificent live oak are enchanting.

The factory is open daily, from 9 to 4, and the grounds are open from 8 to 5, but both are closed on major holidays. There is no admission charge. For more information on the tour or the products, call toll-free 1-800-634-9599, or go to www.tabasco.com/main.cfm