Remembering Pableaux
I was utterly shocked a few hours ago when I read a post from a friend saying Pableaux Johnson died today. It seems impossible. I'd talked to him just a few months back when he did that thing he always did, which was text me once every few months whenever he thought about me so we could catch up and stay in touch. He'd just announced some red beans and rice tours of the south coming up and hinted that he might be headed out west and said he'd give me a heads up when he booked any spaces out my way. I know he'd done them around Seattle before, so I was looking forward to seeing him and getting to eat with him again this summer.
This video I found on YouTube perfectly encapsulates his simple approach to food, family, and connecting with his community:
Where did we meet?
I think I first met Pableaux at SXSW in the early 2000s, back when it was an annual spring break for bloggers and why even when there were a few hundred bloggers, everyone seemed to know each other because we all read each others' sites and talked regularly over AIM. Then we'd meet up each year in Austin and hang out.
I remember seeing his Bayou Dog blog around 1999-2000 and it was probably Steve Champeon and Heather Hesketh who introduced me to him at a SXSW party. We hit it off in the same way he did with everyone, where you instantly felt like old friends. He was incredibly good at connecting people and making them feel welcome.
No one does New Orleans better
I tried to spend the day and get meals with Pableaux any chance I got, and we hung out several times in New Orleans over the years. He was always the greatest host, inviting me and my family to dinners at his place and getting into any restaurant you wanted because he knew the staff at every place. I met a lot of great people around his kitchen table but sadly, in all my trips to New Orleans, I never was around on a Monday night for one of his signature red beans and rice meals.
My absolute favorite day ever spent in New Orleans was in September, 2009.
Looking at my photos from the day, he picked me up at my hotel around noon. We went to get the best Po Boy sandwich in the city because I was ready for lunch, then we hung around the waterfront and at his place. Someone gave us a tip that David Simon was in town to promote his recently announced HBO show Tremé, since The Wire had just ended the previous year. We crossed town to squeeze into a small bookstore to hear him speak about the show which was just about to go into production. After we got out of the event, I mentioned grabbing some dessert and he said let's get snowballs out of the side of an old woman's house. I had no idea what any of that meant, and when we showed up 10 minutes before they were closing, the staff was ready to give him an earful until they realized it was Pableaux, so of course we were welcomed with open arms.
In Fall of 2018, he invited my whole family to join him on a Sunday morning to shoot photos of a second line. I was hesitant to go at first, because as big tall white guy, I'm aware of when I'm taking up literally too much space, but he said it wouldn't be a problem and everyone I met at the homes of the hosting club was incredibly welcoming.
I learned a great deal about second lines that day. It seemed like an all-day celebration of black joy. Every week there are kings and queens crowned in neighborhoods as each fraternity club that hosts a Sunday event tries to outdo the previous week's parade. Everyone was having a good time, people were chill, and you could buy cocktails from little red wagons or out of the trunks of people's cars. Music was in the air and the cops assigned to watch over it all just hung out on horses and let everyone have a good time.
A few days before the parade, I visited the slave plantation museum and it reminded me of how extremely harsh Louisiana could be, and how harsh it'd been for centuries for black people. Having a giant roving party every Sunday (going back over 200 years!) suddenly made sense as a way to take your mind off the world trying to push you down the other six days a week.
Pableaux's photography
Pableaux shot photos at second lines for the past twenty years, and what I loved most about his work was how well he captured people at their best, then cropped the photos tightly to make them the star of the show. Everyone up and down the parade route seemed to know Pableaux and let him go anywhere he needed to get a shot.
It still doesn't feel real
I didn't believe it when I first read it. We last talked just before Christmas making plans to hang out again. He didn't seem old enough for this to happen, but it's a small consolation that he collapsed while attending a second line, doing what he loved most.
Pableaux was one of the kindest, nicest people I've ever known and I'll miss him greatly.
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