Elkinsville

In 1864 Samuel McCutcheon lost his home, the Ormond Plantation in Destrehan, Louisiana, and fled with his family to Belize. Among the slaves that they abandoned was an extended family that were called the Smith slaves. My great grandfather, Richard Smith, made his way with some other people, into New Orleans and enlisted in a Union regiment, the 10th Colored Heavy Artillery. Three years later the regiment was mustered out and Richard returned to Destrehan. Most of the Smith slaves had moved to a small neighboring community called St. Rose. They called their neighborhood, between 1st and 4th Street Freetown and then renamed it Elkinsville, after Palmer Elkins, the first Black resident. Richard Smith moved across the Mississippi River to Hahnville and worked for Leon Vial, a storekeeper and local sheriff. About a month ago, while doing some online research on St. Rose, I found a photo of a historical marker about Elkinsville that listed the first nine residents that settled there. The first was Mr. Elkins. Another one was Smith McCutcheons. This represented the Smith slaves who had come to St. Rose after being owned by the McCutcheon family at Ormond. Last week I drove through Elkinsville. I was turning in to First Street when I saw the historical marker. It was across the River Road at the base of the levee. I parked in the parking lot of an old store and walked over to the marker. I took two pictures of it with my phone, one of the whole marker and a close up of Smith McCutchions. As I was walking back across to my car a Black couple was coming out of the store. The lady stopped and stared at me with a puzzed look. I walked up to her and introduced myself. 

"You saw me taking a picture of that marker," I said.

"Yes, I saw you," she said.

"The Smith McCutcheons on there represents the Smith slaves who came off the Ormond Plantation." I said.

She said: "You need to talk to my mom. My grandmother's maiden name was Smith and we came off the Ormond Plantation."

I stared at her and tears began to well up in my eyes. 

"You're my people," I said.

I gave her a long hug and continued to cry. She was my family. We had been split up in 1864. I could hardly let her go. 

"I knew that some of our people had gone other places," she said, "but I never knew where any of them had gone".

"Here I am back," I said.