Keep your shirt on in New Orleans

As a New Orleanian recently moved to California, I was delighted with Rosemary McClure’s “Many Moods of New Orleans” [Oct. 26]. Unlike most travel writers, she came close to capturing the unique spell native son Louis Armstrong labeled “that thing.”

I must, however, chide her for the accusation, “Residents ... bare their breasts for ... plastic beads.” That naughty tradition was created by tourists, not locals, and as police arrest records prove, is almost exclusively a visitor indulgence. With the exception of a few infamous blocks of Bourbon Street, Mardi Gras is a G-rated family affair.

Michael Llewellyn

Pasadena

There are so many things to see in New Orleans that I would not waste my time on Bourbon Street. One thing my wife and I do every time we visit that great city is to go to the top of the Trade Mart at the foot of Canal Street just before dusk. The seating is around the periphery of the bar, and the floor under the seats rotates. Through floor-to-ceiling windows, you can see the ships moving up and down the river, and then the lights coming on all over the city. What a view.

The only thing that I regret about the French Quarter is that the old Dixieland jazz can no longer be heard except at places like Preservation Hall. What a shame.

Donald Bilinski

Northridge