cinnamon toast pirates
Or, Jean Lafitte and his slightly-too-much hats
Hello friends,
The seafaring life is everywhere right now, for some reason. Cruise ships strike us with the same existential terror as The Flying Dutchman. The youths are singing sea shanteys in six-part harmony.
And when I asked my Twitter followers who should be the subject of the next Dirtbags Through the Ages, the answer came through loud and clear: a pirate's life for us.
(I will get to all of these in time, obviously.)
Therefore, let's turn without further ado to the subject of this Dispatch from the Briny Depths:
Jean Lafitte, the Sometimes-All-The-Time Pirate!
Lafitte was born somewhere (Louisiana?) at some point (the 1790s?). The first on-record mention of him is in 1809, when he ran a blacksmith shop in New Orleans with his brother Pierre.
But of course this was no ordinary blacksmith shop. It was a blacksmith shop slash front for a secret pirate society that smuggled illegal goods and preyed on Spanish vessels. Which, by the standards of this newsletter, is badass.
(Lafitte's illegal activities also included slavetrading, which, by the standards of this newsletter, fuck him.)
Now, if you know one thing about the War of 1812, it's probably that it began in the year 1812. Right at the time when Lafitte and his Merry Band of New Orleans Pirates were cruising around Barataria Bay.
If you're the British Navy trying to launch an attack on the U.S., a rogue fleet of pirates at the mouth of the Mississippi River is perhaps something that should be dealt with. And if you're a rogue fleet of pirates at the mouth of the Mississippi River, the sudden presence of the entire Royal Navy is a really lousy surprise.
The British made a valiant attempt to make use of Lafitte and sway him into fighting on their side. But Lafitte, being a pirate and therefore not giving a single fuck, took the British's bribe money, then sailed straight to then-General Andrew Jackson and passed all the British's secret naval plans straight to him.
(Also, by the standards of this newsletter, fuck Andrew Jackson. This story is full of terrible people.)
At first, Jackson was suspicious, so he sent the U.S. Navy to try and wipe out Lafitte's entire fleet. Andrew Jackson's gonna Andrew Jackson, you know. But after this attempt failed, Jackson saw the benefit of having your own Personal Pirate Posse and enlisted Lafitte to fight alongside him at the Battle of New Orleans. Apparently, the Fightin' Pirates were so patriotic and effective that President James Madison gave them a public pardon.
Now, this would be an inspiring story of a Dirtbag Pirate Turned Hero, were it not for one little inconvenient fact. Lafitte may have been a naval officer for a hot second, but he FUCKING LOVED PIRACY.
The second the war was over and the Royal Navy was out of Lafitte's neighborhood, he and his buds immediately said "sucks to suck, Andrew Jackson" and returned to keelhauling etc.
The U.S. was a wee bit steamed about this. Especially when Lafitte started picking off U.S. vessels, which is not typical war hero behavior.
But did this deter Lafitte from his life of Dirtbaggery On the Waves? Of course it did not! He rustled up a crew for his favorite ship, BURNED THE TOWN OF GALVESTON, TEXAS TO THE GROUND, and sailed off into the sunset to plunder the Spanish Main until his eventual, unspecified death.
The moral of this story? Pirates gonna pirate.
Coda 1
Now, I say "eventual, unspecified death," because after Lafitte noped out of Galveston, records of him fizzle into nothing.
But if you know one thing about weird historical figures, it's that people love to speculate about their mysterious deaths! (*sighs in Christopher Marlowe*)
There are many weird and strange theories about what happened to Lafitte in his late lost years. Some people believe he picked up Theodosia Burr (yes, that Theodosia), who according to this story did not die at sea but joined Lafitte's pirate crew instead. Another possible friend on this journey? Noted French asshole Napoleon Bonaparte, who Lafitte allegedly tried to rescue from exile on St. Helena.
Did this happen? No. Do I love it? Yes.
If someone wants to make a What We Do In The Shadows-style mockumentary about Lafitte, Theodosia, and Napoleon stuck on a pirate ship in the middle of the Caribbean, I will give you all my money.
Coda 2
This story would be delightful enough as it stands, but there's one more thing, and it's on Jean Lafitte's Wikipedia page.
If you think there's one point on this list that delights me more than the others, YOU WOULD BE RIGHT AND YES IT IS 10.6.
So in 1973, Quaker was hunting around for a sidekick to Famed Naval Officer of the Breakfast Table Cap'n Crunch. And apparently they decided that a neat model for that character would be...a 19th-century Louisianan pirate slash war hero who raided the Spanish Main?
Enter: the 1970s mascot for Cinnamon Crunch, a barefoot pirate named "Jean Lafoote."
Lafoote didn't outlast the 70s, alas. But I sincerely hope General Mills decides to make the next mascot of Cookie Crisp a cartoon version of Grigori Rasputin.
Book Corner
Again, thank you all for your support of A Tip for the Hangman in its first few weeks out in the world! You can still order a copy at the usual suspects.
If you've read and enjoyed, consider leaving a review somewhere? Positive reviews on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Goodreads are all huge ways you can support a book once it's out in the world.
So is word of mouth! If you have a friend, coworker, or loose acquaintance you think would enjoy either A Tip for the Hangman or this newsletter, please do let them know!
I'm on a brief break between book events, but I do have two coming up later in March if you're a plan-ahead person. You can find details on my website.
Until next time, friends, be well, and pour yourself a big bowl of Pirate Puffs. You've earned it.
-Allison