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MEMORIES OF HARRISON AND HANCOCK COUNTIES
BY
CLYDE J. CUCULLU
Until very recently, my family lived in New Orleans, but spent many enjoyable vacations on the Gulf Coast. The history of the Cucullu family in the Coast area goes way back, for in 1834, my great-great-great grandmother, Marie Modeste de St. Germain Cucullu purchased a tract of land and a house in Pass Christian, Mississippi. The property which she purchased is now the War Memorial Park in the Pass. Her husband, Manuel Simon Cucullu died in 1833. He was a merchant and ship owner in New Orleans. He emigrated to New Orleans in 1796 from the little Basque town of Plencia, Spain. In those days, it was common for the well-to-do to escape from the yellow fever and cholera of New Orleans by spending the summer on the Gulf Coast. This was apparently the motive of Madam Cucullu.
Next door to the Cucullu house was the home of the well-known Pass Christian Family, Fleitas. The Cucullu and Fleitas families intermarried. The Fleitas family members were prominent in Harrison County politics and many of their sons were Confederate soldiers. Another family that intermarried with the Cucullu's and who had a summer home in the Pass was the Valeton family. In 1851 tragedy struck. Louis Valeton, his four-year-old grandchild and his wife's cousin, Thomas Cucullu all died at the same time from the dreaded cholera. It was determined that healthy Pass Christian was not the source of the cholera. It was brought from New Orleans by one of the deceased.
Many years passed before my family once again frequented the Gulf Coast. My father, Gustave Cucullu, was fond of telling stories about his fishing experiences in Bay St Louis. When I was a small child in the early twenties, my father used to fish in the Bay and claimed that he could catch fish whenever he wanted. One time he and his partner ran out of bait. They tied a white rag to their hooks and started catching many speckled trout. Another story was quite funny. Since he worked for the Sou. Pacific Railroad for over forty years, he should have known better, but for one reason or another, he liked to fish under the railroad trestle. Anyone who has ridden on a train more than twenty years ago should remember the sign which said, "please do not flush while the train is in the station." As the train pulled out of Bay St Louis, you can guess what happened next. Suffice it to say, he never again fished under the trestle.
My earliest remembrance of spending time on the Coast was about 1927 when I was five years old. My Dad,s boss, a Mr. Eddy owned an elevated camp on the beach at Henderson's Point. We
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