A World of Our Own

The following is a review of the BRIGNAC connection with Port-au-Prince and other areas of Haiti from 1918 until 1958.  It was written by Jane Marie Brignac Brown, Henry’s daughter.

Jane married John Elwood Brown, II in 1965.  They have two children, Kimberly and John, III.  Kimberly and her husband, John Michael Kennedy, have presented Jane with two grandchildren, John and Ryan. 

Those people mentioned in this story include:

·        Thomas Severin Brignac, the fifth child of Henry Severin Brignac and Alphonsine Mayer; his wife, Noemie Brigette Salassi and their children, Henry Vincent and Pearl Mildred.

·      Henry was eventually employed in Haiti, also with his wife, Marie Louise Lyons and their three children, Elaine, Henry, Jr. and Jane.

·    William John Brignac, Tom’s brother, and his wife Odelia Dupuy and eventually their three children, Bill, Jr., Mary Wilma and Thomas Peter.

·     Pete Salassi, a nephew of Tom’s.  “Pete” was the nick name of  L.J., whose story is further explained later in “The Salassi Branch”.

Thomas Severin Brignac

A WORLD OF OUR OWN

by
Jane Marie Brignac Brown

In 1918, Thomas S. Brignac had proven himself a railroad man, having built the roundhouse in the Illinois Central Railroad Yard at Baton Rouge, Louisiana.  He also had another appealing quality: he was bi-lingual, spoke fluent French.  To The Haitian American Sugar Company, HASCO, he was the man for the job.  The job being the construction of a railroad in Haiti so that they could get their sugar cane from the plantations to the sugar factory. 

One has to consider that Haiti was a third-world country whose problems of today were no less significant in 1918, when communications, medications and political affairs were either non-existent or turbulent, to say the least.  For a man with a wife and two young children, nine and seven, the decision to accept the position must have been soul wrenching.  He was not only facing the unknown himself, but also exposing his young family to innumerable risks.

To their pleasant surprise, HASCO provided well for their administrators, having built a residential compound lovingly called HASCO Hill.  The Victorian homes came with numerous amenities, including electric buzzers activated by a button on the floor at the head of the dining table, and the necessary household staff to respond to the needs of the families, such as cooking, cleaning, gardening, laundering and chauffeuring.

To their added delight, The United States Marines, occupying the island, were alloyed to bring their families with them to Haiti, thus necessitating the need for education.  Tom’s young children, Henry and Mildred are listed among the first students enrolled at Union School, established in 1919 to provide an English language school for ex-patriots.  When Union School celebrated it’s 75^th year in 1994, Henry was one of the few, if not the only surviving alumni to have attended opening day.

As Tom and his family settled into life in Haiti, and the railroad was up and running, the needs of HASCO kept growing.  As administrative positions became needed at the sugar refinery, Tom would recruit family members to join him in Haiti, thereby turning HASCO Hill into a family compound.  His brother, Bill joined him with his wife, Odelia and their children Bill, Jr., Wilma and Tommy.  Among other family members working there was Pete Salassi, a nephew of Tom’s.  Other Louisiana natives to inhabit the compound were the Bill Martin family from Mandeville, and a Mr. Montegue from LaPlace.

Haiti is a strategic island where the security of the United States is concerned, so The U. S. Government has always been influenced by the economy of the island.  By helping the country protect it’s independence, The U. S. has, more or less been able to keep out non-friendly political factions, thereby preventing the installation of a communist military base on the island.  During World War II, Mrs. Martin and Father Henry J. Smith kept the U. S. abreast of the submarine activity visible from their hillside residences.

In light of the extreme poverty long suffered by the Haitian people, The U. S. Government was determined to give it a boost, thereby providing the needed camaraderie with the powers that be.  Among The State Department’s greatest pushes was the encour- agement of The Standard Fruit Co. to begin a banana operation in Haiti.  In 1935, the president of The Standard Fruit Co., Mr. Salvador D’Antoni, having met Tom in New Orleans, appointed Tom Vice-President of the companies’ operations in Haiti.  Tantamount to the many “problems” facing the banana plantations in Haiti was the lack of sufficient irrigation and the unstable politics.  Tom’s main initiative was to procure the cooperation of The Haitian President, Stenio Vincent, with whom he had a working relationship from his years with HASCO.  Tom leased an unused sugar plantation from HASCO in the  Artibonite Valley and began planting bananas with the help of his son, Henry. 

During World War II, a ship loaded with bananas was torpedoed and thus ended Tom and Henry’s banana planting.  Thousands of stems of bananas rotted off the trees, because the cargo ships were directed to wartime use.

Another economic booster sanctioned by The State Department in 1942 was SHADA, Societe Haitiano-Americaine de Development Agricole (The Society for Development of Haitian-American Agriculture).  Tom took on the planting of rubber trees and sisal plants (the fiber of which is used in the making of rope).  He and Noemie lived on the northern end of the island in Cap Haitian.  Visiting them was a joy.  He took us up to the Citadel (The seventh Wonder Of The Modern World) on horseback, and took us with him on inspections of sisal fields and rubber factories.  I can remember having to cross a small river that was impassable unless the truck was unloaded of it’s passengers.  Nothing proved to be a problem when Tom was around.  His Haitian crew merely heaved us on their backs and carried us across.  Although Tom was short, he was a heavy man, and I can still picture him riding piggyback on a man half his size.  Weight was never a problem to a Haitian man or woman.  Their only means of transporting their goods was on their bodies, since very few of them could afford a donkey, and they often carried 50- to 100- pound loads on their heads using a donut made of rags to cushion the load.

In the early 1950s, while sitting in my grandfather’s car at a service station as he filled it with gas, I was awed as a passing Haitian turned to the man walking with him and said “Ca c’est Ton Ton Brignac”.  (That’s “old man Brignac”. Literally “Uncle Brignac”.)  His calm, generous demeanor endeared him to the Haitian people who came to trust him and respect him.

And then, there was Henry.  Henry worked along side of Tom in many of his endeavors. While Tom was working for the sugar company, Henry built a locomotive out of scraps so that the families would have a way to get to the beach for weekend picnics.  When the banana plantation failed, he went to work for The Coca-Cola Company, Brasserie de la Corrone.  It was there that he built the icehouse and was responsible for the smooth running of the bottling process.

We were thrilled when he took us to view the Coca-Cola sign he had installed on the top of the soccer stadium in Port-au-Prince.  Seated around the darkened field were awe-struck Haitians looking up at the sign. It was the first neon sign in Haiti.

While working at Coca-Cola, a friend encouraged Henry to work with The U. S. State Department.  In 1950 he began working with the Point IV program called SCISP, a public health program funded by The U. S. Government.  Among his first duties was to make an incubator out of a closet to hold petri dishes for growing the latest medical wonder, penicillin.  An American doctor was doing research to find a cure for Yaws, a venereal skin desease.

 He then acquired a mobile clinic equipped with an operating table and dental chair and toured the island with Doctor Francois Duvalier (known as PaPa Doc, later to become The President of Haiti in 1957) for years treating the Haitian peasants with penicillin. Their efforts eliminated the dreaded disease.  Little did he know that the man he considered a friend, and who gave his children their vaccinations was actively campaigning to become the president of Haiti and would turn into a terrifying dictator.

Paul Magloire, the President who did the most to foster Haitian-American cooperation was ousted in 1955.  Henry was ‘in the bush’ when the gunfire started, and Henry Jr. and I were at dancing lessons with Lavinia Williams.  Her home/studio was the former Union School building across the parade grounds from The Presidential Palace. 

As bullets began to hit the front of the Victorian building, luckily supporting large solid shutters to cover the windows and doors, we were told to stay on the floor until our parents arrived to pick us up. 

Of course, the first to appear was Marie.  She had been stopped at the roadblock entering the parade grounds and she told the soldier that her ‘ti mouns’ (children) were in there and that he had to let her walk in to get them.  She walked about five blocks from the car to the studio to pick us up.  Miss Lavinia couldn’t believe it when Marie knocked on the door.  As we walked to the car, Mom thanked the soldier for letting her pass and we drove home. 

Later, as one president after another was ousted from office, we would peek over the railing to watch the cannon balls hit the water in the bay after they missed the building housing the police barracks.

From 1955 to 1957, Haiti was thrown into another revolution, and we were governed by seven interim presidents.  The nights were shattered by the sound of the 9 p.m. curfew alarms and the sounds of gunfire, as those who were still walking the streets after curfew were executed. 

During this turbulent time, Henry heard that another coup was about to take place.  At that time he was building the Dikini Tunnel, and he realized that the dynamite used for the tunneling was easy prey for revolutionaries.  He loaded the explosives into the back of his Carryall and rode through town with the caps on the front seat next to him, so that he could get them under lock and key.  Amazingly, he wasn’t stopped at any of the many roadblocks and arrested for carrying contraband. 

In 1958, shortly after PaPa Doc’s election, Henry was transferred to Surinam (formerly Dutch Guiana) on the northern coast of South America.  There, his mission was to teach the use and maintenance of heavy equipment.  His main project was to build a road from the city of Paramaribo to the Brokopondo Dam, used in the mining of bauxite.  His boss asked him when he would be coming out of the jungle and he told him that he would break out on such-and-such a day at such-and-such a time.  How amazing to go to the movies (our regular Sunday outing) and see the Dutch newsreel showing the trees of the Amazon jungle shaking and falling forward as a bulldozer with Henry hanging on the side exited the jungle.  Little did he know that his boss was not just checking on the project but was waiting for him with the Dutch Governor to Surinam, the American Consul and a film crew. 

While a sophomore at Dominican High School in New Orleans, I received a letter from Mom saying that the Keenans, whose daughter was a close friend of mine, were being transferred to Lome, Togo in West Africa.  I answered Mom’s letter saying that I was sorry to hear that because everywhere they go, we go.

 Paul Keenan, his wife, and daughter Paula, had been in Haiti with us and it was at Mr. Keenan’s request that Henry was transferred to Surinam.  Within months, yes, Henry and Marie were off to Togo.  I never made it to Africa because The President of Togo was assassinated shortly before I was to spend the summer there, and Mom didn’t want me to risk going there and not be able to get out. 

The Minister of Public Works gave Henry a going away party before he left Surinam.  I was lucky to be home for the summer and attended the party.  I couldn’t believe the words the Minister said about my father as his eyes teared.  Like his father, Henry was loved and respected by all those who worked with him, no matter where we lived or what language was spoken. 

When my son John III was a toddler, he would love to listen to PaPa’s (Tom’s) stories, usually requesting his favorites to be repeated.  By the time he was nine, his dream was to work in Africa with gorillas. Luckily, at the age of twelve, he was one of twelve to be accepted as a Junior Keeper at the Audubon Zoological Gardens in New Orleans.  He then became a volunteer Keeper Aide for the next ten years and joined the staff while attending Tulane University at night. 

When The national Geographic photographer, Michael ‘Nick’ Nichols was photo-graphing the white alligators at The Audubon Park Zoo for their article on the nation’s zoos, John was thrilled to be assigned to assist him.  Nick asked John what he planned to do with the rest of his life; John told him that his dream was to work with gorillas in Africa. 

Thanks to Nick’s letter of referral to Mike Fay, Director of The Ndoki Project (see National Geographic Magazine, July, 1995), two years later, in February 1995, we put John on a plane to The Congo, in Central West Africa.  He spent his first eight months living in a Pygmy village called Kabo, and his only contact with the English language came every two weeks when Mike would call him on the radio to check on him. When the guest house, hanger and airstrip were finished, John moved to the base camp.  His 3- to 6- month contract with The Wildlife Conservation Society, out of The Bronx Zoo in New York, had turned into a year of wonder.

The British funded ‘Projet Protection des Gorilles’  (National Geographic Feb., 2000) asked John to join their project, so, after returning home for four weeks of home leave, he once again returned to the heart of Africa.  After reminising and comparing stories with John, Henry told me that “he saw more of Africa in eight months than I did in 13 years”.

Life with the baby gorillas went smoothly until the summer of 1997, when a civil war broke out in Congo.  John III called me to say that I would be hearing from The State Department, but that he was fine and they were only evacuating women and children.  When The State Department called, I was assured that John III was fine and that they would get him out when it became necessary.  A short time later, John Jr. (my husband) called The State Department to tell them that the French were pulling out in two days, and they told him that he was misinformed.  Within hours, they called back to say that he had been right, and that the Franch were clearing out of Congo. 

The following two weeks were a nightmare because the Embassy notified us that the road had been cut off and they were unable to reach John.  Our only relief came from John III’s calls via a radio operator in England who would call us by telephone and patch John through. Calls would come from the Embassy in Brazzaville, The State Department in D. C. and the project headquarters in England.  Everyone was calling to see how John was holding up because they were unable to contact him on the radio. 

Finally, Mike Fay, John’s former boss flew his private plane into Congo to bring in the funds needed (the banks were closed) to pay the Russian helicopter pilot to fly in to get John.  Red tape prevented any legal evacuation because the general in charge said that he was ordered not to let anyone go back in until the war resolved.  All of John’s fellow workers had already been evacuated to Jane Goodall’s chimpanzee refuge on the coast. 

John, Jr. called The State Department and told them to call the general and release the helicopter.  At 3 a.m. one morning, a call came from England to say that John, Despina, a co-worker, and the baby gorillas had left the ground 20 minutes earlier and were flying out.  When he disembarked from the helicopter, everyone he met asked him if he was John Brown, and he replied ‘yes’.  When the general came up to him, he told John, ‘call your mother, she’s been talking to the world’.

After the gorilla project, John went on to assist his mentor, Nick Nichols in photographing “EXTREME AFRICA”, a walk across Africa by John’s former boss, Mike Fay (see National Geographic Magazine, October, 2000 and April, 2001) with TV segments aired in September 2000 and March 2001