Tricou House, 711 Bourbon Street, New Orleans, LA. 70116

The Tricou House has had many problems through it's 20 plus year history. Most of all....Money. Whether or not The Tricou House made money during its operation since it was undertaken in the early 1980's remains largely debated. The final straw came after New Years Eve 2004-2005 when current Management under the name of Brad Juneau was arrested for embezzlement, and marched out of The Tricou House in handcuffs and to New Orleans jail where he currently still remains. He is planned to be extradited to Texas after the New Orleans courts have their way with him. After his departure The Tricou House remained in operation through Mardi Gras, Jazz Fest, and half of summer. But even the biggest money making events could not dig the hole that The Tricou House was left in after being scammed out of unknown amount of money. The Tricou House was left to file bankruptcy. Shortly after this in August, 2005, W. Fred Hendrix signed over control of The Tricou House to a new management company giving it complete control. Close friends that had worked on Bourbon Street as long as 20 years were left without work, and without the place they had formerly known as home.

The ones that will be missed: This isn't a story about all the great people that were met at 711 Bourbon, but the lifers that would of worked there till the day they died. Everyone that had worked there made a choice to leave, but these people below were the heart of soul of a Legendary place in time, that will live on one way or another on Bourbon Street, in New Orleans.

Freak: The white pony tailed man called Freak. He is from Chicago, so we instantly had something in common. Many Mardi Gras's ago I walked into the bar over piles of garbage at 7am to get a drink (screwdriver) from him. I had been partying there all night, and ended up at the casino with some girl till dawn. When I stumbled back down Bourbon street I was drawn back to 711 Bourbon Street, even though the upstairs, and everything else was closed. That would be our first official meeting.

Nobody knew his name but everyone knew his face. He bartended at Tricou House for over 20 years. Whenever people visited Tricou House and Bourbon Street they would stop in to see Freak. He worked the downstairs bar late night while such bands as The 711 Blues Band performed, and St. Louis Slim. He loved staying open late if you wanted to buy drinks. He would come into work as early as 4-5pm and work till 7am. He no longer drank alchol but always kept a 6 pack of O'Douls behind the bar that he would drink while puffing on his filterless camels. He kept a positive attitude and a sense a humor about losing his beloved spot at 711 Bourbon Street:

> Date: Thu, 11 Aug 2005 03:26:03 -0700 (PDT)
> From: freak gillis <freak@freaknola.com>
> Subject: I guess that nothing lasts forever
> To: freak <freak@freaknola.com>
>
> Went to work last Thursday & found the 711 closed,
> on
> payday yet!
> Everyone but Sonny was let go & the new management
> is
> just running the downstairs bar with their own
> people.
>
> Oh well, it was a good long run. So I'll be working
> weekend 'graveyard' shifts at HARRY'S CORNER
> starting
> next week & probebly a few other shifts during the
> week. If you're in town Harry's is on the corner of
> Chartres & Dumaine & I'll be there Fri thru Sun 1 am
> til 7 am.
>
> Hope to see you soon.
> Love,
> Freak
>
> Meanwhile...I can't remember the last time I had
> this
> much time off, sooo...

I could write a few stories about Freak like the time he showed up at The Apple Barrel and bought me and Slim shots of Jager and Jager Bombs. Or the same night when the only time in our life that we shared a cab back towards Bourbon Street. Or the best time yet when (while I worked there) we took down the NEW Tricou House sign late one Monday night, and unveiled the OLD Tricou House sign beneath that symbolized the real Tricou House and 711 Bourbon Street. We hid the new sign never speaking of the incident to the owners. The times that I experienced at the downstairs bar will never be known, except by the camera in the downstairs bar, the people I partied with, and of course Freak.

Vinette:
Vinette had come to New Orleans from Jamaica to work at Tricou House after meeting Mr. Hendrix. She had an adorable Jamaican accent and laugh, but new the business of making money. She was the senior bartender of the upstairs nightclub and lucky she trained me how to bartend. My first party at Tricou House, a large group of people had rented the upstairs bar and balcony for 2-3 hours, and had a parade that marched down Bourbon Street into the upstairs. As the group arrived we were both busy serving drinks for about 1 hour and 30 minutes straight. People were swarmed around the upstairs bar taking the place immediately of those that were served drinks. At one point I asked Vinette how to make something and she was so busy she said, "Don't make it." After that I didn't ask her, and just started pouring and serving drinks. After the big rush was over her register rang $1,500, and mine was about $1,350. She was impressed and after that I knew how to handle any sort of rush. She gave me confidence to bartend on my own on busy Wednesday and Thursday nights. I bartended with her every chance I could on the weekeneds, and had the time of my life doing it.

She also worked the service bar for the restaurant downstairs while I managed. Often times we would have to motivate the greeter, or even take it upon ourself to bring people in. One time I filled the restaurant by working the door. This was odd, because normally there was a pretty girl in a dress out front. On one Tuesday nigth we brought in the business together and as I brought them in, she coached the servers, seated guests, and even waited on tables herself. I swear the day I open my bar or restaurant, she will be the first person I contact about a job..

For a month period we got the chance to live together in her apartment on Esplanade Avenue. During this time we became the best of friends as we talked about work, got drunk after work, rode to and from work, ate popeyes, shopped at Walmart, and even ate some of her spicy homemade cooking. Since the time I have left New Orleans, I'm glad that I took the oppurtunity of visiting her at HER upstairs bar during Mardi Gras 2005, April 2005, and July 2005. I spent much time just at the corner of her upstairs bar to remininsce and talk with her the way we did when we worked together through the ups and downs of Tricou House during 2003-2004.

Errol:
Errol was an alaskain native, a professor wearing small glasses, a keen sense of humor, and black hair pulled into a ball behind his head. Errol worked the service bar full time that Vinette worked part time. Errol would work Thursday through Monday. He had a great knowledge of the restaurant and drinks, and would help me manage the servers even though he wasn't techniqually a manager. He was a master of our crappy Tech computer system that would break down daily. He would often times have to calculate tickets manually, and help me with problems that arose in the restaurant. The best time we'd have was when the restaurant was closed or winding down. At this point he would be in charge of admission for the upstairs club by charging drinks or a cover charge. It was somewhat funny between myself, him, and the street guys. Our street guys Dino, and Sandy were paid either $10 an hour, or $15 if they brought a certain amount of people into the club. The street guys would often harass Errol about letting people up without drinks, or with some sort of deal. Errol kept a strict policy, and many times the street guys would come upstairs into the night club to complain. I would usually side with Errol, and also have him make me shots periodically throughout the night.

During my visits over 2005, Errol was always manning the downstairs service bar as I went upstairs to the nightclub. I would always yell out to Errol, " Errol, Three!" in the voice of the old street guy Dino. This would remind him of the days of old, and we'd usually get a little laugh out of it. It was too bad Errol was another employee who got caught up loaning W. Fred Hendrix an exubrant amount of money that will never be seen. But to all that know Errol, they know that he is a quality human being that will receive good karma tenfold.

TJ:
TJ was a security guard and another long term employee of The Tricou House. He worked the upstairs balcony during the late nights, smoked Marlboro red's, drank Budweiser, and loved to tell jokes. Although his voice was sometimes hard to understand, when you heard one of his jokes, you either laughed cause it was funny, or laughed to be polite. Either way, once you heard one joke, you were gonna hear them all.

Alot of late nights TJ joined myself for a drink either at the downstairs Tricou House bar, across at Johnny White's, or at bars up and down Bourbon Street. One night he stood out so late with us, that he was sick and out of work for a month. He was older, and couldn't handle partying like us young kids, but he was never known to leave early. He often times tried to give me advice when I was down, or about everything else he thought I needed to hear. I saw him all of my last few visits to New Orleans, so I hope that on my next trip we will smoke one for old times sake.

Russell:
Russell was the porter at The Tricou House. He either worked early morning or late, late nights. He was always working during the rush, doing the jobs noone would do, and always, always, bitching about it. It was funny if you knew him, and there was no arguing him out of his point of view. He wasn't getting paid enough (and he wasn't) to do the things he had to do, or deal with it.....and you were gonna hear it. But if you were down, and needed a smoke, he'd be there to pump you up, and hang out. We never got a chance to drink together, but we got a chance to sit back and experience the upstairs magic of the nightclub. We'd often be sitting on two opposite perches of the nightclub, looking at the hot young girls getting naked, and thre rest of the crowd having fun. We'd often just smile, sit back and enjoy. Hot boy Russell.

Sonny:
Who would of thought that Sonny would of been the last man standing. Through all the lifers of The Tricou House, Sonny is the only one that remained after new management took control. Sonny was a black Louisiana native in his 40's-50's that doesn't know how to read or write, but did some sort of valuable work. He reported to work about 3-4am, and worked till about 2-3pm. I'm not really sure what he did, but I guess he was a porter, doing cleaning, and other work of that sort.

He was trustworthy as W. Fred Hendrix told me about a time when he found money that had been misplaced at Tricou House in the amount of $10,000. Sonny found it and returned it to the owner without taking a cent. Sonny often times was in a foul mood reporting to work when everyone was drunk bothering him. But when he was happy, he laughed and hollered like he had heard the funniest joke, and was having the best time. He was often heard and coined the phrase, "Yeah my babyyyyyyyyyy." As I left after my last visit to New Orleans in July, 2005, I passed by Sonny heading home so I could get to my cab. Who would of thought it was the last time I'd see Sonny out front under the current ownership. Who would of thought it was the last time I'd see Russell as I ate in the courtyard, or hang out with T.J. behind the pass door upstairs, or ring up hundreds of hundreds of dollars in tabs at Vinette's bar upstairs. Who would of thought it was the last time I would walk past Errol, and say , "Errol......Three." Who would of thought as I left Tricou House to head back to Chicago it would be the last time I'd shake hands goodbye with Freak in the downstairs bar.

It's on to new beginnings for all, but forever in our minds and hearts we will remember the past. It is believed that Tricou House is haunted, and if you go by late enough, or early in the morning, you'll hear the ghosts of Freak, Vinette, Errol, TJ, Russell, and Sonny.....................

"Yeah , my baby."