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A.AA. Tortorich, the father, had founded Tortorich's restaurant located on the corner of Royal and St. Louis Streets whenihe was a very young man. He and Mrs. Tortorich, a wonderful wife and mother, reared six fine children - Marion, Frances, Anna, Mary, Anthony and Joseph. Marion was married, but I was privileged to meet all the others that evening in January 1931.
Frances Tortorich and I were the same age, twenty five, and I truly believe that when we looked into one another's eyes that evening we both realized that a spark had been lighted that soon would become an eternal flame! It was not really love at first sight, but rather an awakening in our conscious mind that the search for a love to fill the void we both had was over. We used to play billiards in the game room and call one another endearing names just to amuse Anna and Jack, we thought, but the feeling was real enough to last forever.
One cold February evening Fran and I went to see the Show Boat on the Mississippi River. When the show was over we had to climb the levee in order to return to Jack's car, and when we reached the top the north wind struck us. I turned my back to the wind and shivered (I did not own an overcoat then). Fran walked up to me and wrapped her lovely fur coat around me. I held her in my arms for the first time and knew for certain that I was in heaven. She seemed so precious to me I just could not kiss her then. She told me a few months later that she was terribly disappointed that evening when I did not kiss her. I'll never forget the first time I did kiss her. We were on the coast, swimming in the Bay at Henderson Point, when a young attorney who was in love with her and had dated her several times, swam over near us. He greeted Fran and said, "My ride has left. You all will have to drive me across the bridge." I embarrassed her when I kissed her for the first time, in his presence. Earlier that day I had introduced her to my mother. Mama called me into the kitchen and said, "She's a little lady, be sweet and kind to her."
One evening we were double-dating in New Orleans with Jack and Anna and they drove me out to the dock where I was scheduled to leave with a tow of piling for the driver. When we drove into the yard, Ed Keller was there so I called him over, introduced him to Fran, Anna, and Jack, and told him they would
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wait until I returned if I left with the tow. He said, "What do you mean, IF?" I said, "Ed, there's one hell of a northwester making up across the lake and in my opinion it would be dangerous to leave with the tow in the teeth of it." He taunted, "What's the matter, Jim, are you afraid to go out?" I believe he thought I wanted an excuse to stay with Fran. So I invited him to accompany me and he accepted. We were about three-fourths of the way to the driver when the northwester broke and it became so severe I was forced to send my deckhand astern to cut the barge loose in order to save our lives and the tug. After we were relieved of the barge I headed straight into the storm. Ed was not in the wheelhouse so I looked down the passageway into the engine room and there was Ed, down on his knees in water half way to his waist, face uplifted, praying for his life. He never knew I saw him. And I did not embarrass him. Needless to say he never questioned my judgement again. After the blow was over, we returned to the scene and found the barge high and dry on the beach. Jack had become worried when the storm struck and had driven down the road to a point opposite the driver, borrowed a skiff when the seas calmed down rowed out to see if we were alright. I called out that everything was O.K. and told him to drive back to the yard and wait for us. It was neariy midnight when I tied the tug up and joined them. We barely had time to go by the French Market for coffee and doughnuts. Jack and Anna were now engaged to be married but even then we were supposed to have the girls home before midnight. We did not make it that night.
The retaining walls were completed by May and two large dredges began pumping sand in from the lake bottom which soon would reclaim more than 300 acres of land, the site of the first airport of any size in the New Orleans area. The towing was completed and again I was out of a job. I went over to see John Graziano the day I was layed off, and he told me that Bill Moore had the contract to build a bridge at Leesville, Louisiana, and needed us there. He said that Blackie Barreleaux had towed a driver and a bargeload of other equipment to the site and Matty Steele was ready to drive the test piling.
The following Sunday, John and I drove to Golden Meadow, a
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