Neil Armstrong’s footprints were left in the sand along the Mississippi Gulf Coast 327 years ago. The anniversary of this momentous footprint is Tuesday, the actual date being February 10, 1699.
The location of the first footprint will never be known. Historians with knowledge of the Mississippi Sound, the islands and the mainland believe the site was the beach in front of present-day Edgewater Mall in Biloxi. Or thereabouts.
Local debate over the site abounded throughout my lifetime, although accusations have become less aggressive as modern people agree to share their founding history. What is certain is that five ships anchored at Ship Island on February 10 because the water was too shallow to anchor near the mainland.
These Frenchmen were searching for the mouth of the Mississippi River. They also wanted to consolidate French ownership, keep Spain and Britain out, and establish a warm port on the bay that would serve as a great center for trade, especially the fur trade.
Historians know, thanks to two journals translated into English, that they first dropped anchor near Ship Island on February 10. The letter from the frigate Le Marin was written by an unknown yeoman. The log of the 30-gun frigate La Badine belongs to Pierre LeMoyne d’Iberville, leader of the expedition.
The expedition was commissioned by King Louis XIV, who wanted to expand his territories in the New World. Louis sent them to find the location of the Mississippi River. The Mississippi River was first explored by rival Spain’s De Soto in the 1500s and later laid claim to France by La Salle in 1682.
The ships carried an assortment of French-Canadian lumberjacks, Caribbean pirates, and experienced French marines. All are adventurers. Iberville himself came from New France, today’s Canada.
The day after anchoring near Ship Island, some people camped on the island, but many remained on the ship. On their third day on the island, they noticed a bonfire on the mainland shore and fired three cannons to warn the Native Americans, whom the Marin yeomen called “savages.”
On the fourth day, February 13, the expedition’s chaplain, Iberville, a native interpreter, and 13 men traveled in a biscay (a sailed longboat) and a bark canoe to the mainland “four leagues north” of their anchored ship. Soon their tracks were mixed with those of the natives.
According to Iberville, they followed “two Indian tracks” eastward for two leagues before encamping, but Iberville did not call them “savages.” They ate oysters and saw signs of turkey.
On the fifth day, after seeing more footprints, the Daily Marin reported, “Mr. Iberville returned to our fire and placed as a gift some glass beads, cinnabar, and two pipes full of tobacco, to show them that we meant peace.”
Iberville wrote that he tracked the elusive natives and found an old man too ill to walk beside the canoe they had left while resting. He lit a fire for him, built him a shelter, and gave him gifts and tobacco before returning to his own camp.
On the fifth day, they also interacted with a frightened old woman, who may have come to help the men left behind. According to Marin’s diary, she was also given gifts and food, and then “went to her people that evening and told them the full story of what had just happened.”
The sixth day, February 15, is 327 years later. Iberville visited the old man and witnessed his death. The day is spent trying to convince other reluctant locals to interact with them. Food and gifts were exchanged, including freshly pounded dried corn.
Iberville recorded that the natives “came and sang me songs of peace.” His gifts were “axes, knives, shirts, tobacco, pipes, tinderboxes, and glass beads.”
The reference to glass beads is humorous due to Carnival. Think about it: The people aboard these five ships were mostly Catholics who would have celebrated Mardi Gras in 1699 on boats at Ship Island or on side searches of the Mississippi River. Mobile and New Orleans—the cities that like to claim the birth of American Mardi Gras—don’t exist.
In 1699, the vast Louisiana Territory was in its infancy, not yet encompassing the 15 states now included in the 1803 Louisiana Purchase.
The protagonists of this 1699 story are the LeMoyne brothers, Iberville, the 37-year-old captain of the expedition, and his 19-year-old brother Jean Baptiste LeMoyne de Bienville, who took over after Iberville died of suspected yellow fever in 1706. Bienville also founded New Orleans.
But first came Fort Maurepa on this coast. By April 1699, the French were busy building a fort as their home port in the Iberville area, which they named “Biloxi” after the local tribe. Today we know that the first Biloxi was Ocean Springs.
The French abandoned Fort Maurepa and headed east to Mobile, and after a severe hurricane, they also abandoned Mobile and returned to their original Biloxi. The French deemed the site of the original Fort Maurepa unsuitable, so they left the site, which they renamed “Old Biloxi,” moved across the bay and built the new Fort Louis in an area they designated “New Biloxi.” The site is thought to be on higher ground near present-day Biloxi’s large seaside cemetery.
In 1722, the French permanently moved the colonial capital to New Orleans, leaving Old and New Biloxi to fend for themselves.
Confusing? These historic games of hopscotch undoubtedly led to the historical debate between what is now Biloxi, what is now Ocean Springs, a town sandwiched between them called D’Iberville, and of course, New Orleans and Mobile. Everyone likes to brag about their so-called “firsts.”
Interestingly, Ocean Springs hosts an annual event called D’Iberville’s Landing, and the city also maintains a replica of Fort Maurepa before Hurricane Katrina destroyed it. Biloxi, on the other hand, took center stage in the numerous Tercentennial celebrations planned in 1999.
In honor of the Mississippi Gulf Coast’s 300th birthday, the paper’s editors gave me the reins of history and expected me to write many articles and columns. I’m happy to oblige.
A “Coast Sense” piece I wrote in February 1999 was titled “Iberville’s influence embodies the taste of the coast.” I quote most of it here:
“If you think all this hubbub about Iberville and the tercentenary is much ado about nothing, think again. Pierre Le Moyne Seal d’Iberville is our Neil Armstrong.
“Just as astronaut Neil stepped into the unknown, so did our Pierre. These two adventurers represent different eras, but the mission is the same – to explore the unknown, face the dangers and conquer it.
“When Iberville set foot on the continent on February 13, 1699, he took one small step for France, one giant leap for the Coastkind. His first step on the sands of Biloxi signaled what would become France’s great colony, and everything that followed—the Louisiana Purchase, which included what is now Mississippi, Alabama, and Louisiana, and the nationwide expansion that was so critical to our development.
“Iberville also did something that we rarely praise: he brought a unique flavor to the region.
“Try to imagine where we would be if the British, who had colonized much of the East, had come this far.
“If our man Pierre hadn’t come, we probably would have been settled by English Protestants. Mind you, I’m not saying it was bad, but we would certainly have been different. Manners, attitudes and attitude joie de vivre Those early Catholic French who remained were very much a part of the spirit of the Mississippi coast and Louisiana. In fact, I noticed this French mentality Already reaching out to other neighboring southern states.
“Imagine no Mardi Gras parades—or parades without beaded necklaces and various other trinkets thrown to the audience. Imagine no gumbo, no jambalaya, no crusty baguettes for the poor. Hell, we eat potatoes instead of rice with every meal. Imagine us without the richness of our Cajun and Creole traditions.
“The French mixed well with Native Americans, Spanish, African Americans, Irish, Italians, later Cajuns, Slavonians, and all other immigrant groups to a large extent. Like a delicious gumbo, this ethnic pot has a unique flavor today but still has the rich seasoning of French Philae.”
Thank you beautifulIberville!
Kat Bergeron, an award-winning veteran reporter and feature writer specializing in Gulf Coast history and sense of place, is retired from the Sun-Herald. She writes a column for the Gulf Coast Chronicle as a freelance writer. Contact her:
BergeronKat@gmail.com
Or, Southern Possum Tales, PO Box 33, Barboursville, VA 22923
