The Old Courthouse Part IV

(Editor’s Note: This is the last in a series)
The final months of July, 1969 were met with jubilation and a touch of remorse.
Most of the governmental offices were out of the historic old courthouse and into the new. On July 3, parish officials held their first meeting in that modern, cutting-edge building many had so deemed it.
“President Larry Doiron expressed his gratification in the handsome new building and introduced former members who were serving on the governing body when the plans for the facility were formulated,” the Banner-Tribune reported.
Near the end of July, the inevitable day arrived. Though most outlying buildings had been removed, demolition of the jail began on the 24th of the month. Nora Lewis wrote, “The demolition company has started the destruction of two of Franklin’s historic buildings, beginning with the red brick, feudal castle-like jail house. The courthouse falls by the wrecking crew next.
“The six huge claws open and grab fistfuls of brick, mortar, slate, wood and concrete. It will be a slow death for the two buildings—two weeks for the jail, and two months for the entire project including the cleaning up process.
“So now another era passed and the old gives way to the new.”
The Lady of Justice was removed around July 27, and again it was mentioned “it is expected that Justice will later be incorporated in the proposed mail to be constructed in the courthouse square.”
The Banner, July 29: “Majestic even in its last hours, Franklin’s old landmark courthouse came under the pounding of a wrecking crew that peeled back copper siding from the massive dome while a gigantic claw scoop gouged away at the interior of the east wing of the big building.”
July transitioned into August, and on its first day, the “Fall of the Courthouse’s Big Dome” was the headline.
As if intending to make liars of its doomsayers regarding the courthouse’s condition, a caption read, “Partly destroyed by morning-long assaults of wreckers’ draglines, which failed to budge it, the big dome still stood at noon yesterday atop the courthouse until a crew with power saws sliced from the inside to weaken columns and timbers that failed to give. ‘There she goes’ was the cry as columns trembled, stained glass windows shattered and timbers parted” when the dome came down at last.
Evest Adams, at the time 95 years of age, received a key to the old jail which he used for 17 years as jailer prior to his retirement, from Sheriff Chester Baudoin.
A side note: In October, 1969, the Banner reported, “Franklin’s historic old light standards with the admonition ‘do not hitch’ engraved upon them will be kept along east main and additional ones ordered to replace those missing and damaged,” the Franklin City Council decided. Council member Marian Melancon had located a foundry that would duplicate the lamp posts for $250 each and $150 for the crossarms.
A dedication ceremony for the new building was being organized in December, 1969, with debate over a $5,000 price tag for the dedication, printing souvenir books, certificates, photographs, doubloons and “similar items.” The dedication was held May 23, 1970.
And then it was over. Though there were some references to the “old courthouse” over the rest of 1970, these were more afterthoughts than newsworthy.
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This survey of the chain of events that led to the demolition of a structure that was met with a variety of emotions has hopefully shed light on the process that led to its demise, and the construction of its successor.
It may be interesting to note that the architectural style of the existing courthouse is called “brutalist.”
What we did not find in researching the series of events from 1960 to 1969 was evidence of the purported bitter dispute over location of the replacement courthouse to east St. Mary Parish. While there were obscure mentions of available property across the Calumet Cut, few debates on the notion were reported in the newspaper.
In speaking with some of our older residents, it seems that those divisions did exist but such battles were largely fought in private, not in public meetings where newspaper reporters were present. In any case, there is no written record of a free-for-all fight to move the parish seat to east St. Mary.
So nearly 50 years later, among the memories of those who recall the old stately building, and in the perceptions of those who came along later and have seen photographs, the story lives on.
History being what it is, it is doubtful that saga will remain extant; it will fade through attrition, with the passing of years, and the march of “progress.”