The Avenues: A Segregated Past, An Uncertain Future
Apr 20, 2024 01:33PM ● By Jen Gennaro
While home and land values continue to rise in Zachary, why does property in the middle of town almost never change hands?
In the heart of the historically Black neighborhood colloquially known as “The Avenues,” (though properly part of Kennedy subdivision) resides Mr. Willie Parker, who has spent his entire life not just in this community, but in a one mile radius of Avenues E and K.
"That's my mama's house across the street," he says, pointing to the familiar structure where he was raised. He’s leaning on his shovel; I’ve interrupted his gardening.
The circle driveway in front of his 1978 mobile home is neatly lined with collard greens and green onions, and he’s been busy with the harvest. He’s got eight rows in his fenced in backyard, where more greens and broccoli grow. And he owns a nice plot of land across the street, where he farms turnips as big as baseballs.
Parker is no stranger to the hard, sweaty work that tending Louisiana land brings. “For 15 years, I worked right there,” he squints, pointing in the direction of the school district’s maintenance warehouse, near the water tower. He worked in the maintenance building and cut the grass for the schools, until an illness forced him to step back and retire from his position.
But even in retirement, his work ethic remains strong. "I still got a job at home," he chuckles, referring to the ongoing projects he undertakes, pulling up old plants and starting anew, all within the confines of his beloved block.
His mother passed away about 10 years ago, he said, and his niece lives there now in the house across the street. He doesn’t have any kids or grandkids and says he sure could use a little company and some help in the garden.
"Back in the day, it was wild back then, people like me, everybody was young back then," he reminisces, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. But time has passed, and the neighborhood has changed. "Ain't nobody left," he remarks sadly, noting the empty houses that dot the streets, silent witnesses to the passage of time and the ebb and flow of life. “All of them died,” he said, and nobody moves in when they go vacant.
Segregation once dictated the boundaries of daily life here, with "invisible lines" that Black residents knew not to cross for fear of their safety. Dr. Gwendolyn Perry, a local author and retired communications specialist, reflects on growing up in the 1960s on Harlem Street, off Highway 19 behind the new Days Inn.
“That area was just for us,” says Perry, referring to The Avenues and the historically Black subdivision of East End where she grew up. Now in her early 70s, Perry remembers well the days of segregation, when it simply wasn’t safe to venture out of their neighborhoods. It wasn’t until the 1970s that Blacks began to slowly move out of the designated areas and into other neighborhoods, Perry says, but that came with its own implications. She recalls one interracial married couple whose house was burned down. The echoes of these divisions have long-lasting implications on property ownership and the transfer of land.
With such a complex history of segregation and, perhaps, the sense of safety and belonging for longtime residents, The Avenues is one of the only areas in town that has not undergone rapid gentrification in the past few decades. There is no new construction. Nearly every home’s facade is original.
City of Zachary Building Official Scott Masterson said he’s not gotten a permit request for new construction in the Avenues in his more than 20 years on the job–but his office is currently working through a list of 15 or so condemned homes in Zachary, with a fair share of them being in the neighborhood.
A home winds up on that condemned list if it is vacant and not secure, posing a public health or safety risk. As long as someone is living in the house and running water, they cannot tear the house down, Masterson explains.
“A lot of people didn’t realize the importance of getting wills made,” says Perry. “We can’t do anything with our home right now. It’s heir property,” she explains as we idle in her car outside the vacant red wooden house on Harlem Street where she was raised. “Some people won’t sign. It’s not easy to sell a property when you can’t get signatures,” Perry says.
Masterson echoes that sentiment, explaining that if someone dies without a will in Louisiana, assets go to the owner’s closest relatives under state "intestate succession" laws. “We’ve had a property with 48 heirs,” he says.
Zachary attorney Heidi Vessel says successions to transfer property ownership can be costly, especially if not done for generations. When able, she provides affordable estate planning services to clients with limited means, and refers clients to sliding-scale legal clinics. Attorney John Hopewell adds that this problem is a national issue, and that Louisiana law has a “small succession affidavit” for properties valued at less than $125,000. The heir or heirs just need to appear before an attorney or notary with a copy of the death certificate and sign under penalty of perjury that they are the rightful heirs, and the deed is recorded. Not all heirs have to be present or notified, he says, but if the property is ever to be sold, they would need to sign off.
The future of The Avenues may be uncertain, with condemned homes and complex inheritance issues posing threats to this historic neighborhood. However, the resilient spirit that allowed this community to endure despite decades of enforced segregation provides hope that The Avenues' legacy will persist, and that one day in the near future, new families will move in and breathe fresh life into the weathered homes.
