Dorothy Brush "Random Thoughts" Published June 23, 2004

A trip to New Orleans holds treats like none other

Pralines, jazz, oysters, Bourbon St., cemeteries, beignets, wrought iron balconies, crawdad, lush tropical greenery, hot and humid -- all those words and more describe the Crescent City now most often called the "Big Easy." Welcome to the city of contrasts, New Orleans.

I just returned from a long weekend in that 300-year-old city where Andrew Jackson was a strong presence in its earliest years and remains so to this day. In Jackson Square a large statue of him astride his steed is the centerpiece of the surrounding park.

This was not my first visit to this historic city, so I was not tempted to sight see and miss any of the informative talks and seminars presented at the National Society of Newspaper Columnist's annual conference. Just before noon on Sunday the final session ended and most of us walked the short distance to the House of Blues where a bountiful brunch awaited, followed by a stirring gospel sing. It was led by a group from Flint, MI. They moved the packed house to foot stomping, hand clapping and waving our white linen napkins overhead. The place rocked with praise and joy.

For me, no trip to New Orleans would be complete without a taste of beignets (French doughnuts) at the Café du Monde in Jackson Square. The busy café's complete menu is coffee and beignets. The place is roofed but open on all sides. The tiled floor is coated with powdered sugar that falls off the bubbling hot confections. My waitress explained that about 3 every morning the hoses are brought out and the floor is cleaned of every speck of sugar. She added, "By 7 a.m. the floor is covered again."

Tourists are offered tours of all kinds but cemetery tours are very popular. Some emphasize history, others voodoo and others ghosts. I had no interest in these tours because I was reading Death's Acre the fascinating true story of the work Dr. Bill Bass does at the University of Tennessee.

Often called the mayor of the Body Farm, Bass is known worldwide for his expertise in the stages nature plays in breaking down a dead body. The forensic anthropologist came to Knoxville in 1971 to build the anthropology department at UT and establish a graduate program. As Big Orange fans screamed for their football team, few knew that under Neyland Stadium Dr., Bass was graduating top notch crime solvers using the knowledge they gained by a most unorthodox method.

Dr. Bass and his assistants were in demand by law enforcement to help identify bodies and, in 1981, he had a plan for an outdoor laboratory where donated bodies could be observed as nature took its course. He sent letters to funeral directors and medical examiners in all 95 counties of Tennessee explaining his idea and asking for donations.

In Death's Acre, Dr. Bass says, "In the middle of May, 198l, I drove a covered pickup truck to Burris Funeral Home in Crossville, Tennessee - and picked up our first donated research subject." The body had been donated by his daughter and his identity was known "but for the sake of confidentiality, we assigned him a unique identifying number 1-81. The Body Farm was born."

For those of us who live in Crossville, even New Orleans can't top that tiny historical fact.

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Dorothy Copus Brush is a Fairfield Glade resident and Crossville Chronicle staffwriter whose column is published each Wednesday.