Louisiana Cultural Vistas - Fall 2007 - (Page 69)

pansion of pharmaceutical treatment for diseases. As well, the American Medical Association joined with the Federal Trade Commission in a campaign to stop misleading advertising about the curative powers of mineral springs. In Abita, the hotels that served health seekers are long gone, and the springs and the grounds became part of the Louisiana State Park system in 1948. Yet Abita and its waters live on, although now the waters offer a different and perhaps more potent elixir in the beers brewed by the company that carries the town’s name Like Abita Springs, White Sulphur Springs is situated in pinecovered hills, offering fresh evergreen-scented air. Its waters were supposed to be of special benefit to people suffering from dyspepsia and rheumatism. The springs were rediscovered — again, as at Abita, they were known to Native Americans who lived in the area — in 1833 by Joseph Ward who was passing through the area on his way to Texas. Instead, he decided to stay and build a resort to rival his hometown of White Sulphur Springs in Georgia. He gave his Louisiana resort the same name. The community that built up around the springs included two hotels, boarding houses, a saloon, a dance hall, and a school. Steamboats on nearby Little River transported patrons and supplies to Ward’s remote rural location. Then abruptly in 1911, the resort closed. The Louisiana Board of Health had declared that the waters possessed no curative powers whatsoever and, in fact, were a danger to health. Today, only an octagonal pavilion commemorates the resort. Built around 1916 by a local resident and located on Louisiana Highway 8 a few miles west of the town of Jena, the pavilion echoes the structure and form of the Abita pavilion. Despite growing medical skepticism about the curative powers of mineral springs and a decline in the number of resorts, they were far from dead. One that flourished in the mid-20th century was located west of Alexandria, bordering the Kisatchie National Forest. It was established in the early 20th century after an oil worker noticed that a rash on his hands had disappeared from washing his hands in hot water gushing from a drilling hole. Soon after, a health spa, named Hot Wells for the temperature of its water, was built at the spot. It operated until the Great Depression For gout, urological disorders, skin infections, and innumerable other ailments, the waters would provide a solution of the 1930s and then closed. Acquired by State of Louisiana, Hot Wells was transformed after World War II with new buildings and facilities that ultimately included a bath house with steam rooms, a motel, restaurant, and hot water swimming pool. Set amidst pine woods, the resort’s extensive grounds provided an area for golf and play spaces for children. The spring water, which reached a temperature of 116 degrees Fahrenheit, was piped into the new bathhouse. This bathhouse was a single story V-shaped brick structure with a continuous band of windows under the eaves to illuminate the treatment rooms inside. It was designed by the Alexandria firm of Barron, Heinberg and Brocato. Within a few years, a restaurant and a large swimming pool were added (the latter was described as Olympic-sized). These were designed by another Alexandriabased firm, Glankler and Broadwell, and set into the hill’s slope below the bathhouse. The pavilion at La Salle Parish’s White Sulphur Springs, west of Jena, was built in 1916, the only structure marking the site of a short-lived resort. The restaurant building included dressing room facilities on its first level, which was at the same level as the pool. The restaurant occupied the second floor and provided views to the bayou and woodland below. Constructed with a reinforced concrete frame and plate glass walls, the building exuded cleanliness, efficiency and modernism. Its folded plate concrete roof extended beyond the glass walls to shade them and gave a dashing and crisp zig-zag edge to the building’s profile. A solar screen of redwood vertical slats protected the rear southwest wall from afternoon sun. The building received a design award from the American Institute of Architects (AIA) Gulf States Chapter in 1958. But awards do not save buildings. Hot Wells operated into the 1970s, when dwindling numbers of visitors forced it to close. The buildings lay abandoned for years and in early 2007 were demolished and the wells filled in. The demand for spas and the rejuvenating powers of water has not disappeared, and neither has the popularity of drinking spring water. And even if they don’t cure the body, they presumably continue to revitalize mind and spirit in an architecture that soothes and comforts. Karen Kingsley, Ph.D., is professor emerita of architecture at Tulane University, author of Buildings of Louisiana (2003, Oxford University Press), and a free-lance writer. Fall 2007/LOUISIANA ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES 69 KAREN KINGSLEY

Table of Contents Feed for the Digital Edition of Louisiana Cultural Vistas - Fall 2007

Contents Friends & Letters Editor’s Column Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities Big Charity: A History of New Orleans’ Public Hospital Historic New Orleans Collection Making Groceries: A History of New Orleans Markets New Orleans’ Faubourg Tremé: Rooted in Tradition Jazz Notes Louisiana Association of Museums Chinatown New Orleans Louisiana Foodways A Question of Secession Louisiana Architecture Louisiana State Museum The Unnatural History of Cypress Parish Terra Incognita Bookstand Sound Advice Forum

Louisiana Cultural Vistas - Fall 2007

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