A Future for the French Language in Missouri
by Henry Greenstein
Around midday, the bona fide star of the fête, Dennis Stroughmatt, emerged on an impromptu stage that had been erected in the middle of the fairground. Standing proudly behind a banner bearing the slogan of Missouri French resilience, On est toujours icitte! ("We are still here!" with icitte being the distinctly Missourian variant of standard french ici), Stroughmatt and one of his many bands performed a litany of traditional songs. The man who labels himself the youngest speaker of Missouri French provided the day's principal entertainment through songs such as "Grand-mère se plaint" ("Grandmother Complains"). Some were cribbed from the Louisiana French or country traditions, but others were unique to the region of which he has become one of the foremost historians. More on Stroughmatt and the particular musical means through which he preserves the dialect will be discussed in the page on relief efforts. For now, join me for a brief but thorough linguistic analysis of the dialect in which such beloved songs are written, Paw-Paw French.
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As I browsed the merchandise, I noticed a great many peculiar hybrids. I approached basket-maker Laura Klaus, who runs Baskets by Laura out of Fenton, MO and had come to the fête to sell her wares, goods that are extremely evocative of a different epoch in American history, but certainly still useful today. What stood out to me were the distinctive patterns on her baskets, each of which takes about four hours to make. The most striking, and according to Klaus the best-selling, baskets featured the iconography of popular Missouri sports teams — the Cardinals and Blues were most prominent for obvious geographical reasons, but I also remarked Royals, Chiefs, and Mizzou baskets among more traditional patterns. Clearly, Klaus was making a great profit off the modern Yadier Molina-jersey-wearing demographic of Old Mines and surrounding areas, which had turned out in full force to this historical celebration.
At the lip-balm stand, I noted a similar phenomenon: amid flavors such as peppermint, pineapple, and tangerine was a special "gooey butter" variety, suggesting a convergence toward urban, St. Louisan culture that was more thorough than I had previously thought. And in "le magasin campagnard" ("the country store") at the periphery of the festival, I found ornamental jars holding distinctly New World-esque goods such as tobacco, commemorating the particular role of American industry in the development of the region.
This modernization engendered a distinct sense of pride in the gathered inhabitants of Old Mines in at least one way. Somehow, news of the fête had reached a local newspaper in Normandy, France (a testament to the excellent job done by the historical society of disseminating information about the culture and their mission), and a couple had been inspired to travel all the way to Old Mines to join in the fun. The article from the Normandy newspaper was preserved under glass and put on display in a place of honor for the duration of the festival, right alongside time-worn photographs of historical members of the Missouri French community.
It was quite clear to me as I wound my way down two-lane highways and parked in a hay-strewn lot just outside of Potosi that I had left the urban bubble of St. Louis, a notion that was further reinforced by the playing of taps and the firing of guns before the day's events commenced, but at the same time I was certainly not in run-of-the-mill rural America. Case in point: "The Star-Spangled Banner" was preceded by a distinctly Missourian rendition of "La Marseillaise," and, in a surprising tribute to the abortive Spanish reign over Louisiana, "La Marcha Real." The three corresponding flags were raised in succession before a call to the people of Old Mines to Laissez les bons temps rouler! ("Let the good times roll!") — complete with the characteristic rolled-r of Paw-Paw French — signaled to me that this festival was to be replete with a sort of cross-cultural fusion I had never before experienced.
The Annual Fête:
Old Mines, Missouri
October 1, 2017
The Missouri French dialect may be down to around thirty speakers (compared to the six hundred families who were present during Carrière's 1939 study), but it is certainly in good hands with the Old Mines Area Historical Society, stewards of the town's treasured Franco-American culture since 1977. With the help of three executives and a highly dedicated board of twelve directors with a variety of ties to the area (including Washington University's own Dr. Carol Diaz-Granados, whom I met at the fête), the society publishes a newsletter entitled The Diggin's. It features historical articles detailing the role of French in the United States (the Winter 2017 issue features pieces entitled "French Named Towns - French or Not?" and "Gumbo French or Creole French") and detailed genealogies of the region's longtime families, such as the Boyer line, which can be traced back to 1771 Ste. Genevieve.
Perhaps more noteworthy, however, are the society's two annual events. The spring brings the French Heritage Seminar, a day of cultural education which has featured such disparate speakers as St. Louis Public Radio host Esley Hamilton (an architectural preservationist), Washington County Native American Paul White Eagle, and proficient musician and dedicated Missouri French speaker Dennis Stroughmatt. The fall brings the annual fête, a jubilant celebration of the language, music, cuisine, and overall heritage of the region. I had the privilege of attending this year's fête on October 1 and have documented my observations (pictorial and written) of the delightful proceedings on this site.