More Haunting Tales of Old New Orleans from Alyne A. Pustanio

THE BEAD LADY

Copyright Alyne A. Pustanio © 2010

In the 1800’s the alleyways surrounding the St. Louis Cathedral were filled with tiny shops and stores famous for the sale of religious articles.  These shops were especially popular with the approach of November 1^st, All Saints’ Day, when the sacred thread of memory runs deep in the residents of Old New Orleans. 

Most unique among the many shops were those of the wax workers who labored throughout the year in the quaint old stores on delicate flowers, wreaths, holy medals, and beads made entirely of wax.  Rosaries were especially popular, as were long strands of mourning beads carved with images such as the Stations of the Cross or the Sorrowful Mysteries.  These strands were often intertwined with long, satin ribbons that bore various sayings such as “A Ma Mere” or “Espouse Cherie” (“For My Mother” or “Beloved Spouse”), made to garland the doorway of a dead loved one at rest in the cities of the dead.

A sad legend attaches to this lovely tradition, and it is one that has endured for generations.  It concerns an old, decrepit woman who for many, many years was seen ambling through the streets of the Quarter, especially along Chartres Street near the Cathedral.  Dirty, disheveled, wearing ragged shoes and antique clothes, she was distinguishable from other vagabonds by the vast number of garish old beads that hung about her neck; such was their weight that she could not stand up straight and so assumed the hunching, bent aspect typical of aging old crones.

Legend has it that she was once a beautiful Russian princess, and, indeed, the few people who actually ever talked to the old woman said that she spoke with a heavy, foreign accent and that she herself claimed to be Russian nobility.  In accounts pieced together from her own stories, the woman once enjoyed a privileged and happy life as the paramour of a handsome young Frenchman.  Something had spoiled all that – what this might have been, she never said – and she was reduced to poverty.  To earn her living, she said, she apprenticed in the waxwork shops near the St. Louis Cathedral and there learned to craft beautiful pieces of art, in particular the lovely, carved mourning beads so popular in the nineteenth century.  As time passed, the shops outlived their usefulness and the woman was cast out on the streets into a life of begging and loneliness.  Loneliness, most of all.

But New Orleanians, who love giving nicknames, always called her The Bead Lady, or sometimes The Lucky Bead Lady, and according to legend if the Bead Lady offered to sell you some of her beads, it was best not to refuse.  Those who did refuse would quickly see her change from a meek old woman into a fearsome old hag.  Her cloudy blue eyes would suddenly flare from under the brim of her threadbare hat, her face twisted in an evil grimace, and she would stamp her left foot, hold up her left hand with two fingers extended, and, in a guttural, demonic voice, let loose with a string of strange chants aimed directly at the offending party.

According to eyewitness accounts it can be surmised that the appearance of the Bead Lady changed little over the years.  She always wore tattered dresses, often layering several over each other, and a worn, faded knit sweater, even in the hottest summer months.  Her shoes were described as “orthopedic,” the thick, low-heeled kind worn by elderly ladies; but hers were ragged from years of age and here and there her filthy, mud-caked toes peeked out through the many holes.  Her hair was always described as stark white and most of the time she wore a dirty, red kerchief over it that she liked to draw down to hide her eyes.  

In addition to the beads, it is said she sometimes wore a large, blue gem around her neck on a fine chain; it might have been a crown jewel, or maybe just a big piece of blue glass, no one knew for sure, and certainly no one had the courage to rob her of it. Nor did any café or shop owner in the Quarter refuse her service, or even drive her from their doorstep, more in an effort to avoid a scene than a curse.

Nobody made a scene like the Bead Lady.  Though she spent most of her time talking to herself or to the crumbling walls of the old Quarter, the Bead Lady was just as likely to torment innocent passers-by with her babbling rants.  When she threw a curse, her foreign, alien words would echo in the streets and courtyards nearby.  It is said that often she would linger in Royal Street across from the Hotel Monteleone as if waiting for something.  Curiously, there is a pay phone located exactly where she used to wait, and often she would pick it up and babble senselessly; occasionally, it actually rang.  One eyewitness, watching from the hotel archway, heard the pay phone ring and saw the Bead Lady answer it but curiously the ringing continued, even as the Bead Lady held the receiver to her ear.  Most often, she could be found shuffling up and down Chartres Street, holding out a pair of beads and saying in her heavy accent, “You vant luckee bead?  Ees reel luckee for you!”

There is little evidence to support the contention that any good luck ever came from the Bead Lady’s beads, but there is ample evidence that plenty of bad came from them.  Locals who fell victim to the unfortunate cursing episode swore the legend was true and that the Bead Lady could cause all manner of tragic events in the lives of those who fell under her Evil Eye.  Illnesses, broken bones, financial hardship, broken relationships – you name it, the curse of the Bead Lady could bring it all.

This is why, when the Bead Lady gave her wares away, refusing to take any payment, it could be much more frightening.  Sometimes she would single a person out and draw the victim near with the curl of a gnarled, old finger.  When the person would come close enough, the Bead Lady would reach up and place a strand of beads over his or her head.  Upon inspection these were not ordinary, old Mardi Gras beads: they were mourning beads, antique, hand-carved in wax, with a lovely ribbon wrapped about them on which were written glittered words.  These particular beads had an ominous meaning that soon became apparent to the recipient.

One local who received a pair of these old-fashioned mourning beads from the Bead Lady found the words “Pour Mon Frere” written on the ribbon.  Within days his brother was killed in a tragic car accident.  In French the words “Pour Mon Frere” literally mean “For My Brother.” 

Another account comes from a young woman.  She was visiting New Orleans with her husband of several years with whom she was happily married and planning a family at the time.  While enjoying the fun on Bourbon Street, the couple stopped to catch some throws from a group of partiers on a balcony above.  Mixed among her throws was a strange pair of beads; she noticed them right away because they struck her in the face.  Without thinking, she put them on her neck and continued to reach for beads when suddenly she spied a strange sight:  there on the balcony, standing amidst the group of young party-goers, was a wizened old lady, dressed in rags and looking completely out of place.  The young woman thought for a moment that the strange person was someone in costume; distracted for a split second, when she looked back, the old woman was gone.

The next day, the young woman was poring over the throws she had caught and came upon the strange old beads.  On a pink ribbon, in crumbling old glitter, she found the words, “Pour Mon Coeur Cassé.”  Within a year, in fact, approaching the very day she had received the wax beads, the young woman’s marriage was over, her husband having left her for someone else.  “Pour Mon Coeur Cassé” translated into English means, “For My Broken Heart.”

The Bead Lady was considered ancient by residents of the Quarter who saw her there during the 1950’s and 60’s.  Those who saw her in the 1970’s and 80’s reported her little changed from the Bead Lady encountered by previous generations.  By the 1990’s, simply because of the passage of time, reported sightings were considered to be of her ghost.  Living or dead, she is still encountered in the dark streets of the Old Quarter to this day. 

Visitors to New Orleans love our tradition of throwing trinkets and beads at Mardi Gras time and at celebrations throughout the year.  Tourists and locals alike reach up with eager faces and open hands at parades and at street parties in the French Quarter where the throws can come from any direction - even, apparently, from the realm of the unseen and the cold, gnarled hands of the ghostly old Bead Lady.

So be careful next time you yell, “Throw me something!” in the streets of Old New Orleans.  You never know who might be listening!

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