the camellia journal

 He told us, “They just weren’t interested.”

One evening when discussing camellias and the status of the New Orleans Club with Nick and Dale Piazza (current treasurer of the Camellia Club of New Orleans), I lamented that some other clubs arranged garden visits and garden tours and that we did not. In fact, that year a garden club arranged tours throughout the New Orleans Garden District and uptown area. For our picnic, we nearly always went to Jim Campbell’s nursery. Nick mentioned that once a man with a lot of camellias in Covington offered his place as a possible picnic site, but when it was presented to club leadership, “they just weren’t interested.”

So Stephanie and I decided to search out this collection. We contacted Robert Suckow at his home in Kenner. He had purchased the property on Military Road from a camellia collector who had shown his blooms and won awards in the days of the Men’s Camellia Club (however, no one seemed to know him). Robert had hoped to share the collection with the club members and possibly get some help tagging the 600 or so varieties there (he had an inventory list, but not a map). Some of the rarest varieties may have been lost when he excavated about half the collection and donated them to the City of New Orleans’ Keep New Orleans Beautiful organization. Reputedly, they planted them throughout the city, including along Esplanade Avenue’s neutral ground. Regretfully, upon later inspection, those plants had died due to lack of care, improper planting, watering, and general neglect.

We found the property after Hurricane Katrina. The house there was damaged, and trees were down throughout the garden. We clambered over and around huge pines, but were fearful of snakes, as the back of the property was a small river. It was easy to understand what this garden had been like in its glory. We identified some of the blooms, like a large ‘Arajishi’ which was near the house. ‘Debutante’, ‘Alba Plena’, ‘Pink Perfection’, ‘Betty Sheffield’, ‘Imperator’ (Fr.), ‘Professor Charles S. Sargeant’, ‘Ville De Nantes’, ‘Adolphe Audusson Variegated’, and ‘Marguerite Coleoni Variegated‘ stood out, along with a deep purple ‘William Paulk’. Further exploration was needed to view the hundreds of others on the property. When we were ready to visit again, Robert informed us that he was selling the property. He asked if we could meet the new owner. Johnny Despeaux was a mountain of a man who owned the nearby property. At that time, he knew very little about the camellias but admired their beauty. We soon made him aware that the collection was special, and we would help him all we could (including making an Excel file of the inventory). He had the skills and will to totally clear the garden of the debris and restore it to a lovely experience for those walking the paths through the hundreds of camellias. I also learned he was from St. Bernard Parish and had served as a Councilman there. In fact, I had been active in the race of his friend and business partner (who successfully became Sheriff of the parish). Politics and camellias became topics of many conversations. Johnny developed a great love of camellias; actually, it became a true passion. We traveled together to many nurseries to make added acquisitions of plants. In fact, together we bought the inventory of one nursery that was closing, including their greenhouses (which he helped construct at Camellia Heaven). He also helped with his tractor to move large plants I had shipped in, and when he found out about another nursery closing, he purchased all its leftover stock. Johnny had definitely

been bitten by the camellia bug. He tended the garden with care and added the acquired plants (‘Crimson Candles’, ‘Elegans’, ‘Hawaii’, and a myriad of others) strategically in open areas. To expand his knowledge, he became a Master Gardener and even joined the Northshore Camellia Club. While he never took blooms to shows, his blooms were entered for him, and he appreciated the blue dotted entry cards as well as a head table award.

Johnny noticed smaller young plants growing and learned from us that these were seedlings that popped up naturally. The seed pods intrigued him, and soon he was collecting them–I mean COLLECTING them. For several years in a row, he would gather seed pods and accumulated 10,000 seeds to plant and watch grow. As most camellians, he looked forward to the day these seeds would produce a new beauty. Besides the natural seedlings, several of which had some promise as new registrations, he watched hundreds and then thousands of seedlings develop.

When his wife retired, they began spending more of their time building, then living in their dream home in Florida. One day, after officially moving his residence, he called to say he was not caring for his seedlings and other potted plants properly and would I like them. Four thousand seedlings joined my own thousand or so seedlings at Camellia Heaven. But I never expected what followed.

Out of the blue, I learned that Johnny had died. He was diagnosed with an aggressive leukemia way too late and succumbed within weeks. In offering my condolences, I learned that the many seedlings Johnny had held back to evaluate himself (many that had bloomed and showed potential for naming) were not being cared for, and I was offered them to

add to the ones I had already moved. These are now also at Camellia Heaven awaiting registration in his name and his wife’s and daughters’ names as well. One he created/grew may be named ‘Johnny Despeaux’. Another on the property, a striped camellia we had both admired, may be named ‘Sir Johnny’s Stripes’. The plants now line Despeaux Drive in a section of about 70 plants (Despeaux’ Depot).

Johnny’s camellia obsession developed from his acquisition of a property loaded with camellias. Unlike so many that acquire lands where camellias abound, he did not bulldoze these amazing plants. Johnny’s preservation will be a special legacy that will last at the property he resurrected and the seedlings he grew. But alas, Hurricane Ida returned the camellia garden to the condition in which we first found it after Katrina. May Johnny’s spirit guide the next owner to restore the garden to its full potential. Johnny quietly contributed to the camellia world–not by being a showman, but by being a preservationist. RIP my friend.