A Letter to the Editor: Concerning a Gust Near Highland Road (1924alt)
A fictional 1924 letter to the editor recounts a ghostly encounter near Highland Road in Baton Rouge—just as LSU and College Town begin to rise. A chilling gust and distant thump hint at unrest beneath the old Highland Cemetery, partially built over in the 1920s.
From the Baton Rouge Clarion, October 1924
Sir,
I write to you not as one easily stirred by shadows, nor frightened by the creaks and croaks of an old house settling. I am, in fact, an investor. A practical man. A man who values land, soil, and the promise of steady development. That is precisely what brought me down Highland Road this past week, with thoughts of acquiring acreage in that promising new neighborhood known as College Town.
The land, I must say, is good. Wide. Dry. High. The kind that supports strong roots and stronger homes. But as I passed just beyond the future campus of our state's university, I encountered a most peculiar sensation.
It began with a stillness, the sort that chokes out birdcall and even the wind. Then came the thump. Not once, but three times. Low and deliberate, as if made by the end of a cane on wood, or a fist on the underside of a table. It echoed in my chest more than my ears. I stopped my automobile and stepped out. The trees stood still.
And then came the wind. A great gust, unnatural in force and direction, rose suddenly and swept across the road. It tore the hat from my head and sent a fine layer of dust into my eyes, though there had been no breeze before or after.
It was only upon returning to town that I recalled something my great-grandfather once said, in the sort of story shared only after a glass of bourbon. He spoke of an old burying ground out on Highland Road, one that had long since faded from memory but not from the soil. He said the land would never quite forget.
I wonder now if the road itself remembers. If the old cemetery is still there, marked or not. I do not claim to know what I encountered, but I offer this: travelers, take care when passing that stretch of Highland Road, especially near dusk. The land is old. It stirs.
Yours in earnest, A. J. Fournier
Editor’s Note:
A 1940 survey map shows the cemetery had already lost nearly half its original footprint by then. What remains today is hidden behind College Town Park, where it is often overlooked by students and joggers alike. Whether one believes in spirits or not, this area is layered with more than just history.
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