PROJECTS — [PART 2] The Black Cat

The Black Cat by RANDY FERTEL

When my father ran for mayor on the platform the zoo needed a gorilla, his campaign manager was The Black Cat Lacombe, a local race-track promoter right out of Damon Runyon, who earned his nickname by consistently picking losers. And not only did he pick losers – he was one of 'em. He was a perennial candidate for governor, among other offices. And he sure had a fine time with campaigning. His run against Earl Long in 1959 was immortalized in AJ Liebling's masterpiece about Louisiana politics, The Earl of Louisiana. Here's just one of its stories

A customer came over from the bar and said to The Black Cat, "I'm going to vote for you, Governor; you're better than them other sonsabitches [SOBs?}, anyway."

"What precinct you vote in?" the candidate asked and, after the man told him, said, "well I'm going to look at the returns Sunday, and if I don't have one vote in that precinct I'll know you're a lying sonofabitch."

The man went away laughing, and the candidate said, "I might even beat Rainach and finish fifth." (167)

The Black Cat didn't make it to the governor's office. But neither did arch-racist Willie Rainach. And next election, The Black Cat ran for mayor of New Orleans, claiming as one of his qualifications that he "nearly went to high school." He got 129 votes.

Known as the Boy Promoter in his youth, the Black Cat may have been Catch-22's model for Milo Minderbinder when he served in the Persian Gulf during World War II. In his book about the Fair Grounds, Bob Roesler, the dean of the New Orleans sports reporters, tells the story of how The Black Cat convinced the brass to build a 5,000-seat open-air arena to entertain the G.I.s. He christened it The Punch Bowl, then brought in boxing matches and the occasional camel race. His boxing team, the Fighting Longshoremen, won the Persian Gulf Command championships there. Then they went on to Cairo to capture the Middle East Boxing title.

But even when he won, the Black Cat lost. On the way to the Cairo championship, one of his longshoremen took down Egyptian King Farouk's favorite bodyguard. When it was suggested that throwing the fight would help the war effort, The Black Cat took his man out on a two-day drunk. Even hung-over, LaCombe's boxer won a unanimous decision.

Farouk was incensed. When LaCombe presented himself to make his apologies for this lèse majesté, the charmed King invited him to a round of golf. In his Irish Channel brogue, as close as we come to Brooklynese down here, and it's pretty close, The Black Cat recounted the match: ""If I'm lyin' I'm dyin', I didn't have to dump the golf match. No way I coulda whipped his royal highness. His arithmetic was worse 'n mine. Or else he didn't know the rules. He never counted balls he hit out of bounds, which was a bunch."

It seems that The Black Cat had landed on his feet. Again.