Danielle Laramie Arceneaux on Spiritland, Bill Clinton, and Coco Robicheaux

“My first night with Coco above Café Brasil, I was hungry and opened the freezer looking for some food. All that was in there was a wax casting of Professor Longhair and a dead owl he’d found in the swamp.”

– Danielle Laramie Arceneaux (Owner of Spiritland Records, Coco Robicheaux’s widow) 

DLA: … Coco’s first album was called “Spiritland”. The title song was about a deep inner place of spiritual connection. Spiritland was also a real place, on Frenchmen Street above Café Brasil. Coco created it in a gardening shed off of our veranda. A beautiful room filled with religious and spiritual artifacts, buffalo rugs, two fountains, and photos and objects celebrating cultural beliefs from all over the world. Especially his Hoodoo beliefs, which came from his deep roots in the Louisiana countryside. 

You can see Spiritland on Frenchmen. Look up to the back of big black cat that’s painted on the side of Brasil. There are pictures of it on the album cover. Locals and travelers would knock on our door asking Coco for a healing or to just sit inside to pray. That really was the Spiritland. 

On Bill Clinton’s sax-playin’ –

I have a story about the Praline Connection. It was on the corner of Chartres and Frenchmen, but I don’t think it’s there anymore. [Nope; it’s Willie’s Chicken & Death Toll Daiquiri Shack.]

On this particular afternoon, Frenchmen Street was hustling and bustling. Coco came running up the stairs and announced, “You have five minutes to get ready to have lunch with President Clinton.” 

We hurried over to The Praline Connection with Clinton and his entourage. It was during the Monica Lewinski situation, and I think he wanted to get out of D.C for awhile. After we finished eating, he said, “Let’s take a walk.”

We walked up and down Frenchmen Street. It was just the beginning of Mardi Gras—the spirit was starting to generate—and Coco was giving a little guided tour. There wasn’t much on Frenchmen back then. There was Snug Harbor and a couple other venues. And the bookshop; we stopped in there. 

That night, Bill invited us to join him at Snug Harbor. We noticed he brought his sax along. Charmaine Neville was playing that night and invited him onstage. The song was “You’ve Got The Right Key, But You Stuck It In The Wrong Keyhole”. He played, but when he came back to the table, he said “I don’t like that song”. 

He was a sweetheart! He asked Coco for a signed copy of Spiritland and insisted on paying. Bill wrote Coco three letters after his visit, letting him know how much he loved his music and the city of New Orleans. 

Coco had just met him standing out on the corner or something. It was as easy as that. He was at the right place at the right time. 

On house fires –

There are thousands of stories. I mean, we lived above Café Brasil for years. So another one. A week before we got married, Coco set the house on fire with me in it. 

On April 23rd, 2001, a magazine was doing a spread on our apartment along with other New Orleans musicians’ digs. We had just renovated our place in time for our upcoming wedding celebration at Rosy’s Jazz Hall on May 11th. We were quietly married a few years before but wanted a big traditional celebration for our friends and family.

We had everything ready. We’d painted murals on the walls, everything was so beautiful, all my bridesmaids’ gifts, wedding dress… Everything set. God laughs at plans.

A little sidenote: The window behind our bed went right into James Michalopoulos’ house/studio. The buildings were connected. It was just before Jazz Fest and James did the poster that year. I believe he had the original print and stock in his studio.

Photographers for this piece came a day early. We shoved all the paints and everything under a sofa on the back veranda right next where Spiritland was. Coco, of course, lit all the candles and sage for the photos and forgot to blow them out before they continued the interview, walking around the neighborhood taking pictures.

The candles and sage must have started the walls of Spiritland on fire. I was sitting on the sofa in the back. It happened fast: Spiritland blew up, and the flames started the paint under sofa on fire and blew me right off the couch. 

I called 911. It was 3:33 PM, and I ran upstairs to warn a woman named Kim. She played piano late night at Pat O’Brien’s and was sleeping. I banged on her door till she woke up, and she ran down stairs and got out. James wasn’t home. Cindy from Judy’s Collage thrift store was out on the street crying from the damage to her store. I ran back up the steps dazed to get my wedding dress. Please don’t follow my example! I got a bit hurt but saved the dress. 

Luckily everyone got out in time. We had a gig at Café Brasil the next night. The fire had knocked the power out, so the show was powered with a generator.

Most of the things in Spiritland were burned, but we saved some of the statues and pictures. The letters from Dr. John and Gatemouth survived, along with Coco’s diaries and lyrics. And the Jazz Fest posters—thank goodness—were unharmed.

So anyways, fast forward. A few years ago, I was watching the show Treme on HBO. It’s still difficult for me to see Coco on screen or hear his voice. There’s an episode where he’s in OZ, and they’re talking. He needed a rooster in the episode for a Voodoo ceremony, and he mentioned the fire. It was the first time I heard him admit to starting it!

On midnight snacks & summer nights –

Our first night together above Café Brasil, I was hungry and opened the freezer looking for some food. All that was in there was a wax casting of Professor Longhair and a dead owl he’d found in the swamp. 

Typical Coco. We were the funniest odd couple on the planet. I hardly drink, and I’ve never had a cigarette in my life. I was never a groupie, which probably helped our relationship. And I didn’t actually call him “Coco.” That was for his fans. I’d go, “Come on. I want to talk to Curtis here.”

Fast forward to about a year later, when I moved in with him. It was two in the morning. We heard a knock on the door, and opened it to two men wearing very expensive suits. And they took that wax cast of Professor Longhair!

After they left I asked, “What was that all about?” Coco explained that it was a bad deal and that he didn’t want to talk about. He didn’t like the business part of being an artist.

It was a rollercoaster of life Coco and I had, and I miss him. I have so many wonderful memories of living in that apartment above Café Brasil. Our neighbor, Kim, bought us this little plastic swimming pool that we put up on the roof, and we’d splash around in it on hot summer nights in the buff. We’d sleep out there under the stars sometimes, high above Frenchmen.