Throughout South Louisiana on Friday and Saturday night, dormant buildings all week come roaring to life. Flashing arrow signs advertise the evening’s entertainment, and empty gravel or grass parking lots fill up with cars and trucks just after sundown. Couples and singles arrive, milling about outside as they greet old friends and make new ones.
The first strains of the accordion fill the air, followed quickly by the sharp snap of the snare drum. In an instant, the entire building becomes a speaker box, pulsing with the sound of the entire band, propelled (ever forward) by the syncopation of the bass player and drummer. Even in the parking lot, the urge to move is almost irresistible, encouraging those just arriving to move a little quicker to get inside for their first dance of the night.
Dancehall attendees are usually dressed one of two ways–to the nines in their finest new clothes, or in older, comfortable, worn-in gear that falls somewhere between workout and work clothes. The crowd sports equal parts modern urban and rural country styles–as many baseball caps as cowboy hats, oversized t-shirts as tucked-in Western snap shirts, baggy pants as starched Wranglers with massive belt buckles, and as many sneakers as cowboy boots. No matter their skin color or what they are wearing, everyone is here for the same thing–to dance. Regardless of the outside temperature, most dancers will be drenched in sweat before the night is over.
South Louisiana was once dotted with dancehalls like these—many communities were outfitted with at least one. Equal parts bar, performance hall, and community center, the traditional dancehall provided a space for much-needed recreation. The majority of these legendary institutions have closed their doors, but the few that remain open are now a frequent stop for tourists from all over the world.
Day-to-day life in Louisiana has traditionally meant hard physical labor. Working the land, operating a machine, oil derrick, or washing clothes and cooking and cleaning, enduring the seasonal highs and lows from before sun-up until after sundown six days a week didn’t leave one with much energy or money for a party. Saturday night was special: time to leave behind all your troubles, dress up in your second-best clothes (you need the best for church in the morning), and head out to the dancehall.
The whole extended family loaded up in a wagon (or in later years a car) and drove to the outskirts of town. After traveling down the dark and dirty country roads, a lighted building appeared in the distance. As the vehicle grew nearer, faint music cut the humid night air. The area around the building was abuzz with activity: children running and playing a game of tag, women greeting each other, and men shaking hands and slapping each other on the back. A man with a cigar box collected a small fee at the entrance. Inside, the band, made up of local community members, set up on one end of a room, and the floor in front of the band is filled with dancers, the floorboards alive under their feet, pulsing with the dancers and slightly bowing under the weight. Around the edge of the room, women, both young and old, sit and wait to be asked to dance. Young women ask their mothers if they can have a dance with their new beau–hoping he will ask—the men mill about, searching the sea of faces, knowing each one. Everyone talks about the latest community news. In one small room, infants are rocked amid the noise and bustle, their mothers bidding them to sleep so that they can enjoy a dance themselves. Men step out into the cool night air, reaching into their back pockets for a flask to pass around, providing their friends with a taste of liquor, perhaps pouring a shot into a mixer they bought at the bar inside. The moon shines down on the dancehall, a lone building surrounded by a dirt field–kept bare by the weekly influx of wagons and horses. Voices inside and outside the hall rise–loud and boisterous, soaring carefree on Saturday night.
The history of the organized dancing locations in South Louisiana begins with the bal de maison, or house dance, which dates back to the 1700s, before the arrival of the Acadians. These were intensely local affairs that were held at both grand plantation homes and small farmhouses. Since these events were primarily invitation-only, a courier on foot or horse spread the word that a dance would be held that weekend. Bal de maison hosts cleared part of the house so that couples could dance, and onlookers could supervise and gossip. The windows were opened to allow air to flow freely and for the music to be heard outside. The band was usually a local duo playing fiddles and, later, an accordion. These events were hugely popular, both with affluent landowners and farming families.
Dancehalls, or les salles de danse, became popular in South Louisiana around the time of the Civil War. In many ways, they resembled house dances: paid admission, food and drinks for sale, entire families welcome, largely insular community affairs. Unlike house dances, dancehalls were separate structures open regularly for entertainment. They were open to anyone who could pay to enter, which allowed the evening’s entertainment to be frequently disrupted by arguments and fights about personal and family issues.
Some early dancehalls were similar to shopping centers in that they were multi-use facilities. Dauphine’s Dancehall in Parks featured a baseball diamond, a bar, a grocery store, and an ice cream parlor. Richard’s Casino (also known as Tee Maurice) in Vatican featured a dirt track behind the hall that was used for both horse and car races. Lee Brothers Dancehall in Cutoff featured a barbershop and a small general store. Also, many halls began as grocery stores or saloons and over time became exclusively dancing and drinking establishments.
The majority of classic-era dancehalls share several common characteristics. The windows could be propped open to allow for unrestricted airflow. In the days after electricity reached these halls, giant fans were installed in the walls to keep air moving. Some of these fans featured a reservoir that allowed a trickle of water to drip onto a curtain of moss for maximum cooling effect. Many people have commented that even without signs, dancehalls were easily identified in the day by the large gravel parking lots and windows braced open to allow cooling and airing out before an event. Typically, women could enter and dance for free, while men paid a charge to dance–a ticket was stapled to their collar upon entering the dance floor. Many early dancehalls featured a “bull pen” for the men–a holding area where they congregated when they weren’t dancing. Later, this area would be replaced by a barroom that served as a shared area for both sexes. Another common feature of halls was a bleacher-style seating area for women. This seating area provided an unobstructed view of the dance floor, allowing mothers and grandmothers to watch every move of the younger female family members as they danced and talked with young men. Many of these establishments featured a parc aux petits, a room where babies were allowed to sleep, away from the noise and bustle of the hall. Another common feature was a room set aside for playing cards, bingo, and later slot machines.
Although the majority of local dancehalls of recent memory feature Cajun and zydeco music, historically, establishments that represented many more genres of music were popular all over the state. Blues, big band, string band, jazz, country and western, rhythm and blues, swamp pop, and rock and roll music all had a home in Louisiana dancehalls. Forty-six of Louisiana’s sixty-four parishes featured dancehalls at one time or another. These halls were established in a variety of settings as well–city centers, rural locations, at water’s edge (and sometimes on the water), the outskirts of town, and neighborhoods.
The modern dancehall has few persisting characteristics from the old style. The “bull pen” area, where single men waited between dances, and the bleachers, where mothers and grandmothers sat to watch the courting couples talk closely and dance, are long gone — replaced by a large bar area and tables to be used by all. Courting is still a major function of the dancehall, even though the discerning eye of the once ever-present chaperones is no longer there to help monitor the behavior of the young single dancers. The gaming rooms are also a thing of the past, replaced by pool tables or one electronic slot machine in a corner, maybe a video poker machine at the end of the bar in place of the card tables that once held endless streams of bourée and euchre games. The things that have persisted are universal: music, dancing, and fellowship.
Although the majority of these famous institutions have closed for good, a few dancehalls remain open today. The changing tides of popular music, the rising popularity of casinos, the raising of the drinking age from eighteen to twenty-one, and the aging population of dancehall enthusiasts all played a part in the decline in dancehall numbers. Sadly, no Louisiana organization exists to preserve, support, and celebrate these cultural icons.
Vermilionville Performance Center
Back to Top of ListAlong the banks of the Bayou Vermilion rests the Vermilionville Living History Museum and Folklife Park, a large complex exhibiting various styles of historic buildings, a garden of healing plants, interesting exhibits, and master craftsman demonstrations. A visit during regular hours (Tuesday through Sunday, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.) yields an impressive array of artisans scattered about the grounds, displaying traditional techniques ranging from cooking food, spinning cotton, and weaving to woodworking and playing Cajun and Creole music–truly something of interest for everyone. One of Lafayette’s premier cultural attractions, Vermilionville also boasts a dancehall. The bal du dimanche, or Sunday dance, is held 1-4 p.m. weekly in the Performance Center.
The building was modeled after an old-time cotton gin and features a large wooden plank dance floor and a high ceiling with exposed beam rafters. The raised stage and modern sound system ensure that the band can be enjoyed from every seat in the house. The central dance floor is flanked on both sides with wooden tables and ladder-backed chairs (some of which were made by Cajun music legend D.L. Menard). The walls are adorned with colorful local quilts, the Acadian flag, and iconic images of local Louisiana music legends and storied dancehalls–a subtle salute binding the past and present together. When the weather permits, the rear walls can be folded away, creating an open-air barn feel that allows the music to fill the area around the hall.
The traditional Cajun, Creole, and zydeco music offered by the bands that play at Vermilionville brings out a widely varying crowd. Locals and tourists, Creole cowboys in pressed jeans and big belt buckles, college-age girls in short denim skirts, cowboy shirts, and boots, zydeco devotees in tie-dye, headbands, and sandals, and Paw-Paws in one-piece jumpsuits and Maw-Maws with freshly set hair all crowd onto the dance floor at the same time. It’s no wonder–the bands on the schedule are all crowd favorites–Creole legends, Swamp Pop crooners, zydeco headliners, classic Cajun groups, as well as extremely popular new and upcoming acts all keep the dancers coming back for more.
The dance floor begins to populate just after the band fires up–soon it is a waltzing mass moving in a large counterclockwise ring in time to the music. The men leading, an occasional pair of clasped hands rises above the crowd as a couple twirls. The corners of the floor are sometimes occupied by a dance lesson, a grandparent dancing with a child, or isolated couples that have opted out of the giant spinning swirl in favor of their own style of dance.
This weekly event is one of the few all-ages dance experiences in Acadiana and possibly the whole state. A bar in the rear serves both alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, and sometimes food is offered for sale. The historic setting, spacious dance floor, community feel, and great music make a Sunday afternoon at Vermilionville a real treat.
La Poussière
Back to Top of ListOn January 10, 2013, a tornado peeled back the roof of La Poussière dancehall. The damage was extensive, including a waterlogged ceiling, busted sheet rock, roof, and rafter, as well as electrical damage, and the destruction of the entire kitchen. Facing thousands of dollars in repair bills, the owners, Lawrence, Judith, and Nicole Patin, were distraught. The hall is a family tradition started by Lawrence’s parents in 1955. Running a dancehall had always been a time-consuming second job for the family, so immediately after the storm, they were faced with a tough decision–whether or not it was time to close down La Poussière for good.
Unknown to the Patins, a plan to cover the repairs was hatched before the damage was even assessed. A few of the musicians who consider La Poussière a second home got on the phone and arranged a benefit concert with an all-star lineup. By the following Monday, local companies had started the repairs. In less than one month, the doors were once again open for business. Held on February 2 of the same year, the benefit–dubbed “The Welcome Home Celebration”–was a twelve-hour dancing marathon. Artists donating their time and talent to the cause included Jackie Callier and the Cajun Cousins, Geno Delafose and French Rockin Boogie, Cheryl Cormier and Cajun Sound, High Performance, Walter Mouton and the Scott Playboys, and Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys. Over the course of the day, over eight hundred people came to honor La Poussière and witness it made whole again. The response was so great that it was almost necessary to dance in shifts.
For over forty years, Walter Mouton and the Scott Playboys appeared weekly at La Poussière, which means “The Dust” in Louisiana French, for their Saturday night dance. Mouton is famous not only for his longevity, but for the fact that his well-known band does not have a large recorded output–only a few scarce songs can be found on commercial releases. This is because they consider themselves a dance band. Many longtime regulars at La Poussière can attest to this fact. Probably for this reason, La Poussière and Mouton are forever linked.
La Poussière is a long rectangular hall with the majority of the floor space dedicated to the dance floor. Along the wall and edge of the dance floor are tables, many designated as reserved by a plastic sign holding the name of a regular. Those regulars, mostly older, make a weekly trek from all over the southern portion of the state to visit and dance. The old-time atmosphere, great Cajun music, a colorful cast of regulars, and the well-worn dance floor make a trip to Breaux Bridge to visit La Poussière a genuinely good time.
La Poussière features live music from various popular local Cajun bands every Saturday night around 7 p.m. Every Sunday afternoon at 2 p.m., Jackie Callier, Ivy Dugas and the Cajun Cousins play. They have their own unbroken streak of playing once a week since 2012!
El Sid O's
Back to Top of ListMake your way to the corner of North Saint Antoine and Martin Luther King Jr. Drive, and you’ll be at a spot that has inspired many visits to Lafayette. During the day, the building itself is beige-painted cinder block and brick, mainly recognizable because of the canopied front entrance that reads “El Sid O’s.” Located in the historic Lafayette Truman neighborhood, El Sid O’s Zydeco and Blues Club has been drawing crowds since it opened on Mother’s Day 1985.
The dancehall was once owned and operated by the late Sidney “El Sid O” Williams, a member of one of the founding families of zydeco and brother to zydeco star Nathan Williams. Sid was an accomplished accordion player in his own right, as well as a well-known local businessman (he also owned Sid’s One Stop, a convenience store just down the street). Every year, Sid would host an annual Thanksgiving food drive show that is legendary, having featured a who’s who of zydeco, including Boozoo Chavis, Buckwheat Zydeco, Beau Jocque, Nathan Williams, Rockin’ Dopsie, Keith Frank, Horace Trahan, Terrance Simien, and many more.
A visit to El Sid O’s while Sid was alive was always memorable. Upon entry, zydeco music would be playing on the sound system, interrupted at regular intervals by Sid, breaking in from a microphone he kept behind the bar. The messages were half announcements about upcoming shows or the band of the evening and half a pitch for drink specials, but it was understood that Sid not only ran the show but was a part of it. Regulars and visiting musicians alike sought him out to pay homage upon entering. At some point in the evening, Sid would come from behind the bar to visit all around the dancehall. A gracious host, he introduced himself throughout the seating area, making sure that everyone had what they needed and was comfortable. Décor included beer and liquor signs, as well as banners and posters from past and future events.
As the club would get crowded, the band would take the stage. Sound levels were checked, and after Sid’s brief word of welcome from behind the bar, the accordion bellows would breathe and come to life, beckoning the other instruments to join in. Sound filled the room, and a wave of activity begins as couples got up from their seats to fill the dance floor. Over the course of an evening, several accordions would be used, from the oversized piano-type made popular by Clifton Chenier to the older, more traditional diatonic button variety. The stage lights were reflected in the instrument’s polished finish as the accordionist moved in time to the music.
Zydeco dancing can be a magical thing to watch. Despite the basic steps, every couple makes it their own, adding personal flourishes and gestures until the basic underlying structure is not the primary focus anymore. Dance styles range from dancing in place with barely perceptible movement of the feet with minimal upper body action, to a wide-ranging swing style that involves partner twisting, synchronized side-stepping, and small jumps. The faces are often stoic as they complete complicated dance moves, seemingly effortless and in sync. Examining the multitude of styles on display at any one time can be hypnotic.
After about an hour and a half, the band would put down their instruments and stop for a well-deserved break. The dancers needed it too. Sid would give a call over the microphone for a round of applause and remind us that this short break would be a great time to get an ice-cold beer. Music would be pumped through the PA system again, and suddenly, the dance floor was filled with a zydeco line dance interlude. As midnight approached, El Sid O’s still had a lot of life left in it.
Blue Moon Saloon
Back to Top of ListTucked away just one block off of one of Lafayette’s busiest thoroughfares is a special place: 215 E. Convent Street. In 1900, the large wooden-framed house that currently occupies this spot was relocated from downtown and, through the years, has served variously as a private residence and flower shop. It now operates as the Blue Moon Saloon and Guesthouse. Following in a long line of Louisiana bars and dancehalls before it, the Blue Moon (as it is commonly referred to locally) has a diversified business plan. In this case, a location where a bar, a dance hall, and a guesthouse cohabitate. People from all over the world have stayed in the Blue Moon’s guest rooms alongside local and touring bands from all genres who have graced the stage.
Opened in 2002 by friends Catherine Schoeffler and Mark Falgout, the Blue Moon was modeled after hostels they experienced abroad, and the concept quickly caught on. It filled a void in the Lafayette scene, providing locals with a fun, new open-air venue and dance spot, as well as a dynamic place for travelers to stay. The two things intertwined well, allowing visitors to experience local culture in a literal backyard, while locals enjoyed a revolving cast of characters to share their culture with.
After a short time with a makeshift stage, the crowds had outgrown the space, demanding more room for dancing and sitting, which propelled the expansion of the deck and permanent bar area to accommodate the growing club-goers. The resulting additions have come in leaps and bounds, and the crowd has kept coming too. The Blue Moon now boasts an additional bar near the entrance and a deck complete with a seating area in the side yard, which is used for special events, such as wedding receptions, book signings, and food service.
The Blue Moon began as a venue for locals, and many notable local bands have played there at one time or another. Highlights of that extensive list include Bonsoir Catin, Feufollet, Roddie Romero & the Hub City Allstars, Steve Riley & the Mamou Playboys, the Pine Leaf Boys, and Cedric Watson and Bijou Créole–all GRAMMY nominees. Chubby Carrier and the Bayou Swamp Band and Terrance Simien were also Blue Moon performers who won GRAMMYs. Additionally, local favorites Al Berard and the Berard Family Band, Balfa Toujours, the Bluerunners, Creole Zydeco Farmers, David Egan, The Figs, Hadley Castille, Harry Hypolite, Horace Trahan and the Ossun Express, Jeffrey Broussard & the Creole Cowboys, Lost Bayou Ramblers, the Magnolia Sisters, Marc Broussard, Nathan & the Zydeco Cha Chas, The Red Stick Ramblers, the Savoy-Doucet Cajun Band, Curley Taylor and Louisiana legends the Hackberry Ramblers have all graced the Blue Moon stage.
Although the Blue Moon’s first steps into music were decidedly local, it did not take long for touring bands to start making it a regular stop. Folk artists, including The Mammals and The Duhks, as well as Texas acts The Weary Boys, Scott H. Biram, Dale Watson, The Gourds, and even legendary songwriter Billy Joe Shaver, have all played to sold-out crowds. Guitar gods Bill Kirchen, Dick Dale, and AM radio royalty Susan Cowsill have all additionally performed several times on the crowded back porch. Even more thrilling were the performances of New Orleans genre mixers The Iguanas, piano champions Henry Gray and Henry Butler, jazz funk guitarist Leo Nocentelli of The Meters, and the Rebirth Brass Band.
Although the primary music genres performed have been roots rock-oriented, the Blue Moon has since grown to feature many styles of music. A mainstay has been performances by indie rock bands. Over the years, there have been shows by FM radio breakouts Givers, New Orleans dance punk organist and puppet show Quintron and Miss Pussycat, new wave rockers Bas Clas, local indie heroes Brass Bed, as well as a string of classic shows by Lafayette rockers Matt Rock & the PowerBoxx.
Larger local festivals have brought many memorable musical acts to the Blue Moon. Bands from Festivals Acadiens et Créoles have even offered occasional full-length late-night sets that collaborate with the Saloon’s “Rhythm and Roots” series, which partners local favorites with visiting international bands from Festival International de Louisiane. Additionally, the club’s location, just off the Lafayette parade route, makes it especially hopping during Mardi Gras, when in previous years, they have hosted an all-day party with food for sale and a day-long schedule of bands.
Inevitably, the Blue Moon has become a community gathering spot. No other time is it more evident than the free Cajun jam, held every Wednesday night. The jam offers an opportunity for musicians to meet and play together, regardless of their skill level. It is not uncommon to find master Cajun musicians at the jam, sitting side by side with novice players. Furthermore, the Blue Moon has been home to numerous events, such as the Nue Moon Revue, which features a revolving cast of community members performing their own songs while backed by an all-star band, the BluesBerry Festival, celebrating blueberries and the blues, various “Hoot Night” concerts, a kind of live band karaoke which invites audience members onstage to sing vocals on well-known bands or Christmas tunes and Acadiana Vinyl Haul, which turns the Saloon’s entire exterior property into a short-lived record swap.
In 2014, it was no surprise that the Blue Moon Saloon and Guesthouse was named one of the “Top 100 Bars in the South” by Southern Living magazine. With a full-service bar, excellent music, and a small stage butted up against a cozy dance floor, a night at this beloved venue is an intimate experience with friends, even if you are meeting them for the first time. It feels relaxed, welcoming, and homey, like sitting on a friend’s back porch–and that’s what it is–Lafayette’s back porch.
Fred's Lounge
Back to Top of ListGetting up early on a Saturday morning for a visit to Fred’s Lounge in Mamou feels like embarking on a first light fishing trip, but with a very different end in mind. Driving the quiet state roads en route, you pass through serene countryside. The vast open plains, carved up into farming fields and home plots, are interrupted by the occasional stand of trees, breaking up the cattle, crawfish, and rice fields on either side of the road.
As you approach Fred’s, you can feel the excitement growing. The side has a large mural proclaiming “Mamou–Cajun Music Capital of the World.” The band inside has already begun, and you struggle to make out a barely discernible tune, muffled as it makes its way through the building’s brick and cinder block walls. As you open the front door, you get your first peek inside the busy space. A man leaning against the inside of the front door nearly falls backward onto the sidewalk outside, as a crowd of people, elbow-to-elbow, drinks and talks behind him inside. Beyond them are a dozen or so bobbing heads of couples dancing, and through the darkness, you can make out the band, roped off in the center of the room to protect them from being bumped by the dancers. Framed posters–advertising politicians, festivals, and other events from years past–line the walls. A string of green, gold, and purple flags advertising beer hangs from the ceiling around the band area. As you stand in the open doorway, music blaring and sunlight streaming in, it is time to push through the dark, crowded room and make your way to the bar. You’ve made it. You’re at the famous Fred’s Lounge in Mamou.
Given that the bar opens at 8 a.m., it is not surprising to see many patrons drinking their breakfast. The most popular drink orders are a Bloody Mary and (often two at a time) 10-ounce beers. A morning at Fred’s is very crowded, so making small talk with your new neighbors while waiting to get the attention of a bartender is encouraged. Fred’s is a destination spot for people from all over the world, so there is no telling who you might meet. Behind the bar, t-shirts are displayed for sale in a variety of colors–all featuring a reproduction on the back of a sign fashioned years ago as a plea to the occasionally overexcited patrons: “Please Do Not Stand on the Tables, Chairs, Cigarette Machine, Booths, and Juke-Box! Thank You. Fred.”
The namesake of this fabled spot is Alfred “Fred” Tate, a Mamou native, who bought Tate’s Bar in late 1946 and rechristened it Fred’s Lounge. It quickly became a popular spot in downtown Mamou, a small town that was, and still is, well-known for its watering holes. It is said that in those early days, the bar was open six days a week and always packed with locals. Tate passed away in 1996, and a plaque honoring him is on the wall just outside the front door.
Another famous face of Fred’s is Sue Vasseur–known to most as “Tante Sue from Mamou” Vasseur, Fred Tate’s ex-wife, who passed in April of 2025. Well into her 80s, Sue could be found behind the bar most Saturday mornings wearing a Fred’s Lounge T-shirt emblazoned with an accordion on the front that she sometimes pretended to play, pinching the sides and squeezing it back and forth in time with the music. When the band struck into “La Danse de Mardi Gras,” Tante Sue would lead a procession around the crowded bar and insist that patrons join in. All along, she would stop to hug old friends and strangers alike, posing for pictures and making small talk. On her belt was a holster that held a flask filled with cinnamon schnapps that she occasionally passed around to patrons who would like to take a shot with her.
In the period after WWII, Fred’s Lounge and other places like it became a haven for local Cajun culture. As radio, television, and film began to increase in popularity, many Cajuns felt pressure to assimilate into the increasingly standardized culture that dominated the United States. As a result, some groups in small towns, like Mamou, held even tighter to tradition. For example, the plan to revive the Mardi Gras Courir tradition in Mamou, a masked rural procession to beg neighbors for communal gumbo ingredients, was hatched at Fred’s in the early 1950s.
Even with all the documented history, no one is exactly sure when the Saturday morning band tradition started. What we do know is that it has been a weekly mainstay on local radio airwaves since 1962. High school teacher and Cajun cultural activist Revon Reed pitched the idea to Tate as a 15-minute live Saturday morning broadcast from Fred’s Lounge on Ville Platte radio station KVPI (1050 AM). Once the original concept of live Cajun music, announcements, and advertisements in French became a hit, the show quickly grew into the two-hour-long program that it is today. Reed passed away in 1992, but the show is still going strong, every Saturday from 9-11 a.m.
Needless to say, the Saturday morning event, as well as the culture documented at Fred’s, has undoubtedly made this hot spot well-known to enthusiasts and students of Cajun culture. In fact, Louisiana folklorist Barry Ancelet recorded legendary collaborative and spontaneous folktales or “Pascal Stories” at Fred’s that Mamou locals spun. The Saturday morning band has featured legendary Cajun master musicians Nathan Abshire, Dewey Balfa, and Sady Courville as well as contemporary supergroups, such as Balfa Toujours and the Lafayette Rhythm Devils. Several important documentaries were also shot on location at Fred’s, including Alan Lomax’s 1991 film Cajun Country.
Clearly, it is easy to have a memorable time at Fred’s Lounge. Visitors get pulled onto the dance floor to try out the two-step, the bands are good, and the drinks are reasonably priced. Camaraderie is created among those in attendance–drinking and dancing early on a Saturday feels a little like breaking the rules. It is hard to believe that when last call comes, it is only 1:45 p.m. You close your tab and make your way out the door, squinting in the daylight. The crowd scatters, some to their cars, some to lunch spots nearby, and a few are even headed to other bars whose doors have just opened and bands are just starting up. Fred’s is only open for six hours each week–every Saturday morning from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m.–so be sure to set your alarm and check them out.
Grant Street Dancehall
Back to Top of ListIf you ask around about well-known dance halls in Lafayette, it won’t take long before someone mentions Grant Street Dancehall. Located downtown, just off of Jefferson Street, this famous venue has had a colorful past, hosted many celebrated musical acts and has recently been taken over by new owners.
In 1880, the railroad arrived in Lafayette, then called Vermilionville. Many structures were erected near the tracks to service the arriving passengers and products, including the building that now houses Grant Street Dancehall, built in 1898 as a storehouse for fruit. This cypress building, with its open rafters and wide planked floor, which has since been scarred by years of moving pallets and hand trucks across it, served as a warehouse of one kind or another until 1980, when it turned into a dance hall.
Grant Street Dancehall opened on the Fourth of July, 1980. Original owners Mike Hanisee and Loren Farmer booked a sure thing for the grand opening: Clifton Chenier and His Red Hot Louisiana Band as the headliner and the Red Beans and Rice Revue as the supporting act. The club was packed and quickly turned into Lafayette’s premier venue to see bigger local acts as well as a regular stop for national and regional bands on tour.
Some of the local acts who played at the club include punk rock and roll heroes Frigg A-Go-Go, slide guitar wizard Sonny Landreth, zydeco ambassador Buckwheat Zydeco and swamp pop supergroup Lil’ Band O’ Gold. Grant Street also hosted legendary touring bands including Stevie Ray Vaughan, Ray Charles, Muddy Waters, J.J. Cale, Marcia Ball, B.B. King and “the Killer” Jerry Lee Lewis. Grant Street is also well-known for hosting numerous fundraisers, benefits and even birthday parties. On occasion, other types of events, such as midget wrestling matches, have additionally been held at this popular hangout.
By 2000, Grant Street changed hands several times and had gone through several different managers, keeping the club open only intermittently. The club even appeared for sale in the local classified ads. Despite all that, the venue is once again up and running featuring live music.
At the beginning of 2017, Grant Street Dancehall hosted a birthday party for guitar master Paul “Lil’ Buck” Sinegal in the smaller side room called “The Saloon.” Sinegal has had a long and illustrious career, from recording as a session musician for Excello Records in the 1950s, fronting his own rhythm and blues band Lil’ Buck & the Top Cats in the early ‘60s. He was also a sideman with Clifton Chenier for 10 years starting in the late ‘60s, followed by playing alongside Rockin’ Dopsie and Buckwheat Zydeco. Even though he is mainly known as a zydeco musician, Sinegal maintains that he really plays blues guitar. And his party at Grant Street was no exception, as he effortlessly tore through blues standards and R&B favorites, thrilling the crowd and inspiring dancing, from wild spinning to a slow drag.
Lil’ Buck wielded his guitar like a craftsman with a tool, never pausing to look around for reference–his hands knew exactly where they were and went to the next spot with ease and fluid motion. His band, a four piece, was spot on from years of this style of loose playing–no practice needed. The sound bouncing off the brick walls, mixed with a small but colorful light show, was intoxicating.
As the crowd rolled in, Lil’ Buck’s band continued to play as a few university students paused to listen from outside the open front door of the club, then turned to head downtown where cruising and drink specials rule the night. Just then, a car with two older couples pulled into the lot. As they got out, one of them said loudly, “I can’t believe this! Lil’ Buck at Grant Street!” As they danced toward the front door, you couldn’t help but smile. Grant Street Dancehall is indeed back.
Holiday Lounge
Back to Top of ListSouthern Club
Back to Top of ListThe stretch of U.S. Route 190 West between Opelousas and Eunice looms large in the history of Louisiana music. The tiny town of Lawtell featured the legendary zydeco clubs the Offshore Lounge (open sporadically) and Richard’s Club (still operating and now called Miller’s Zydeco Hall of Fame), rhythm and blues club Teddy’s Uptown Lounge (open) and dance halls the Green Lantern and the Step-Inn Club (both long gone). But the clubhouse of swamp pop, the Southern Club, still stands just outside Opelousas, a roadside monument to remind all of the good times that were once had there.
The massive building, which now sits quiet, was once a hub of activity. Built in 1949 as a casino, dinner and dance club by Claude Morein, the Southern Club quickly became a popular spot for a night out. Morein sold out to family after a crack down on gambling, and the business eventually landed with his nephew, Lionel “Chick” Vidrine. The Southern Club had an official grand opening on January 1, 1956.
The Club’s location meant it was a convenient stop for national touring musical acts who were making their way between the New Orleans area and the larger cities in Texas. Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductees Chuck Berry, Lloyd Price, Jimmy Reed, The Coasters and The Platters have all played onstage. These acts alone certainly made this a notable spot, but the most internationally known band to play the Southern Club was from much closer to home: New Orleans’ own Fats Domino.
Chick’s brother, Rayburn Vidrine, worked at the club for 25 years and saw lots of acts, but his favorite performer to see at the club was Antoine “Fats” Domino. He played the club a half-dozen times, heralded by newspaper advertisements for weeks beforehand, resulting in huge crowds. “Fats was really something to see live,” said Vidrine. “They’d set up his piano on the stage against the wall so it couldn’t get out from under him. People would be dancing everywhere. The place would be packed–turning them away at the door. And it was always fun to drink a little bit with him beforehand. Fats was a really nice guy.” Domino, also a member of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, is best remembered in Louisiana for his piano-styled New Orleans rhythm and blues and influence on the evolving style of music that came to be known as swamp pop.
Swamp pop is a genre of music created by young Cajun and African American musicians in the early 1950s that blended elements of the locally popular traditional French music, New Orleans rhythm and blues, country and western music and the emerging phenomenon of rock & roll. Originating in the Acadiana area, swamp pop was very popular throughout South Louisiana and in southeastern Texas. Swamp pop songs, like Dale and Grace’s I’m Leaving It Up To You and Rod Bernard’s This Should Go On Forever, were so popular that they appeared on the U.S. pop charts. Local acts who regularly graced the Southern Club stage read like the list of artists from a swamp pop greatest hits compilation: Lil’ Bob and the Lollipops, Guitar Gable and the Musical Kings, Johnnie Allan, the Fabulous Boogie Kings and Bobby Page and the Riff-Raffs, with swamp pop supergroup the Shondells (featuring Warren Storm, Rod Bernard and Skip Stewart). Simply put, the Southern Club was the home of swamp pop.
The Southern Club’s massive exterior hints at its spacious interior. The building’s front has three joined arches, which still feature part of the neon that spelled out the club name–although only half of the letters remain, survivors of vandals, beer bottles and rocks in the years since it closed. Entering through the front door, you are met with a large bar that conceals two huge drink coolers that once held over a thousand beers each. An immediate left inside the door takes you to the restaurant area–also used for bingo and bourré, a favorite card game of locals. The area to the right originally housed a coat check and slot machines, but now holds a derelict pool table covered with cigar boxes full of cancelled checks.
Past the bar on the left and through a set of double doors with porthole windows stands the main room. Straight ahead is a massive wooden dance floor, now covered in dust and warped in places, betraying the fact that time has taken its toll on the roof overhead, allowing rain to enter. The dance floor is surrounded by evenly spaced posts, serving not only as building supports, but as a place to hang speakers and call buttons as well–harkening back to the days when waitstaff brought drinks to the tables. To the outside of the dance floor and beyond the posts on both sides of the room stand dozens of tables with hundreds of chairs stacked on top, all waiting to be dusted off and used again. The outer walls have over a dozen sporadic rectangular holes at varying heights, once filled by window air conditioning units that were long ago stolen. These holes are now the only source of light–giving the building the feeling of a sunken ship on the bottom of the ocean. Instead of water, the space is thick with memories of so many glory days.
The gigantic room is anchored at the far end by the main stage. The stage itself is slightly raised, allowing a better chance of seeing the band over the heads of the people on the always-crowded dance floor in bygone years. The stage is wide and deep, a reminder that it once held large orchestral dance bands before the invention of rock & roll and its smaller combos. The ceiling over it has a rounded overhang that once featured a gathered curtain, now long gone. A railing once separated the stage from the lower floor–meant to keep people from inadvertently falling onto the stage as they danced past the bandstand. A second stage to the right allowed for a seamless transition from one band to the next.
In 1994, Chick passed away, and the business operated until the Vidrine family closed it in 1996. Since then, the Southern Club has sat quietly, waiting to be revitalized and put back into service. Currently, an effort to do just that is underway, led by Chick’s brother.
According to Rayburn, “I worked here for 25 years, and I saw a lot of different fads in music, in dress and the way people act. It was an experience that I wouldn’t do again, but I wouldn’t sell it for anything in the world either…I’d really like to see something happen with this building, in honor of my brother, Chick.” As his voice quivered with emotion, Vidrine continued, “He was a kind and generous man who helped everybody who needed it, and this was his place. He deserves to be remembered.”
