the camellia journal

 Bali Ha’i, a special island and elusive plant

To anyone from or living in the New Orleans, Louisiana area, Bali Ha’i was a special island; a tropical oasis on the lake at  Pontchartrain Beach amusement park. Replete with its exotic Polynesian food and rum concoctions, the restaurant’s setting was perfect for that special romantic date. The movie, South Pacific (1958) with its haunting music, added to the mystique of Bali Ha’i as an “island paradise”.

Yes, Stephanie and I went there; those times were special indeed. However, I had another relationship with the Pontchartrain Beach amusement park that made me even more familiar with this iconic location. It was a research client. As local  amusement parks struggled to compete with the super parks like Opryland, Six Flags and Disneyland, Pontchartrain

Beach, with new ride selections, special pricing, and targeted promotions, were driven by our data. It was a fun time to be in market research.

As Stephanie and I perused the old American Camellia Yearbooks, we noticed ads for old nurseries selling scions. That day, the McClendon Nursery in Ponchatoula, Louisiana jumped out with scions for sale of the camellia ‘Bali Ha’i’. I hoped it had at least one stock plant. Besides my desire to expand the collection, it also brought back memories of “At the beach, at the beach, at Pontchartrain Beach…” (Pontchartrain Beach jingle and radio commercial, WTIX New Orleans, 1962) and winning stuffed animals, the haunted house and a special kiss, twisting and turning on the Wild Maus, the Zephyr (roller coaster), the “flying horses” (carousel), and eating burgers and cotton candy. I had to have a ‘Bali Ha’i’! But, was the McClendon Nursery still in business?

“If you try, you’ll find me”

As Tangipahoa Master Gardeners, Stephanie and I met Dolores Hammack, the owner of McClendon’s Nursery. We asked her about the stock plants, but there was no growing area. She pointed to the neighboring subdivision on other nursery land. She did say one of Mr. McClendon’s creations, ‘Miss Ponchatoula’ was on the property. An unregistered sasanqua, ‘Miss  Ponchatoula’ was named as part of the celebration of the City. Later, a client, whose home office was in that subdivision, enabled Stephanie and I to drive up and down every street; not a camellia was found. I did, however, learn a Mr. McClendon was alive. I thought this was the original Mr. McClendon, but discovered only recently, the Mr. McClendon I called was his son, Herman McClendon. 

“Bali Ha’i will whisper…”

It appeared my quest for ‘Bali Ha’i’ might conclude. Mr. McClendon was a congenial octogenarian. John Marks, a Camellia Club of New Orleans member, remembered him as “being very knowledge and being willing to share all he knew.” Marks purchased camellias and other plants from McClendon's because of this local savvy. Marks said, “he asked what the plants were for” and selected varieties for that purpose. Mr. McClendon allowed him to walk among the camellias including ones across a drainage gully that ran through the property. Despite high hopes, the conversation with Mr. McClendon ended with his saying the nursery was gone. I took this to mean that only the small parcel nursery I had visited remained. ‘Bali Ha’i’ was slipping into the mists.

“Someday you’ll…hear me call you… Come to me, here am I… come to me"

Years later, in conversation with another Master Gardener, Vicky Fannaly, a relative of Herman McClendon through marriage, I was told the plants may not have been lost and that I should contact Flora McClendon Nelson, Herman’s sister.

She still owned part of the nursery grounds—maybe the mists had cleared. I called and she agreed to my coming for a visit.

“If you try, you’ll find me…come to me. Come to me.”

In Ponchatoula, I found the usually locked gate and a path along the aforementioned subdivision and saw several camellias.

I thought, “so near and yet so far from our drives through the subdivision, and at that point, how Stephanie, who had passed, would have loved discovering this “lost garden”. I tentatively walked through a front shed filled with old farm equipment and reached their door. From the outside, the house was austere and was clearly an old rural farm-type house, but inside it was beautifully appointed, although a little warm, only cooled by fans. We talked about camellias and how I found her and her husband (Jackson, called Jack—my own nickname). The camellias were mostly intact. However, few, if any, had tags of any type. She said I was welcome to look throughout the acres of camellias for whatever I hoped to find. I wondered why  McClendon had not shared that his sister still owned the site with the camellias. “Bali Ha’i may call any night, any day…”.

Flora could not join us, but Jack Nelson walked with me despite the mud from the heavy rains. I explored the property covered with several hundred camellia plants. We jumped the gulch (John Marks had remembered). Most of the camellia plants had no blooms. ‘Bali Ha’i’ was a mid-season bloomer and blooms would be sparse. I asked if I might return when blooming. Before I left, Nelson shared with me some seedlings he had noted. I took pictures and some cuttings, even though this was not an ideal time for sticking (and late for most grafting). ‘Bali Ha’i’ remained elusive.

“Bali Ha’i, Bali Ha’i, Bali Ha’i someday you’ll see me…”

Time passed and Flora Nelson passed as well. I offered my condolences to Jack and after an appropriate time, I visited again. He was glad for the company and we walked the property again. This time I was determined to check out every tree for the bloom I hoped to find. Then, “Here I am… come to me, come to me”, I found it. The white, semi-double with a pink marking on a single petal and intermingled stamens stood before me. I had found my “special island”.

The day was perfect. I took many cuttings and added cuttings and pictures of two seedlings Jack especially liked. I suggested those could be named for Flora and for himself, but Jack deferred and suggested both be named for Flora—

‘Flora Nelson’ and ‘Flora McClendon Nelson’ were named in 2019 but have not been registered.

Jack Nelson has left the property and the McClendon heirs have it up for sale. I hope to return again before it is sold and probably leveled for another subdivision. That would be such a loss as the elder Mr. McClendon was not only a nurseryman,

but also a hybridizer, experimenting with his own cross-pollinated varieties. All three of the last varieties I obtained have successfully rooted—three ‘Bali Ha’i’ and one each of the “Flora” registrations. ‘Bali Ha’i’ had emerged at last from the mists—“come to me, come to me”!

Note: Bali Ha’i quotes from the lyrics to Bali Ha’i by Richard Rogers (South Pacific show tune, published 1949).