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Vinton Heritage Foundation, 2019 Batchelor Road, Vinton, LA (2026)

08/11/2026

The Day Vinton Made National News

Now, if you weren’t around Vinton in August of 1993, you’re probably going to think somebody made this story up.

Those of us who were here know better.

It started out as a pretty normal day in a pretty normal little Southwest Louisiana town. Before it was over, there had been a police chase through Vinton, a Pontiac had crashed at Ted Lyons Ball Park, and 20 naked people had climbed out of it.

And little Vinton, Louisiana was national news.

You really can’t make this stuff up.

The group had started their trip in Floydada, Texas, and was headed east. Somewhere along the way things took a strange turn. By the time they reached our part of Louisiana, 20 people were packed into a 1990 Pontiac Grand Am.

Now, anybody who remembers a Pontiac Grand Am knows that getting 20 people into one was an accomplishment all by itself.

But there’s more.

They weren’t wearing any clothes.

According to newspaper reports from the time, the group had gotten rid of their clothes somewhere along the journey. Five of the passengers were even riding in the trunk.

Eventually they found their way to the KOA, now Vinton RV campground.

Something happened at the campground that resulted in law enforcement being called, and before long the Pontiac was back on the road.

That’s when the real excitement started.

When officers tried to stop the car, the driver took off.

The chase came through Vinton at speeds reported to be around 90 miles an hour.

Now remember, this was Vinton in 1993.

There weren’t cell phones in everybody’s pocket. There wasn’t Facebook. Nobody was livestreaming anything.

But news still traveled pretty fast in a small town.

And I’m pretty sure a Pontiac full of naked people being chased through town didn’t need much help getting everybody’s attention.

The ride finally came to an end at Ted Lyons Ball Park.

The Pontiac went through the fence and crashed into a tree.

Then people started getting out.
And kept getting out.
And kept getting out.

By the time everybody was accounted for, 20 people had come out of that Pontiac.

Thankfully, despite everything that had happened, the injuries were reported to be relatively minor.

One of the Vinton officers involved had been in law enforcement for more than 20 years and told reporters he’d never seen anything like it.

I don’t imagine anybody else in Vinton had either.

It didn’t take long before the Associated Press and United Press International picked up the story.

Suddenly our little town was being talked about all over the country.

For a few days back in 1993, Vinton, Louisiana was national news.

And of all the things we could have been famous for, this is the one we got.

The story didn’t end there either..

Those of us around here also remember a cartoon drawn by Calcasieu Parish Sheriff’s Deputy Leroy Landry about the whole ordeal. The cartoon is remembered locally as even making its way onto national late-night television.

We haven’t been able to track down a copy of it yet, but we’re hoping somebody around here still has one tucked away somewhere.

Apparently 20 naked people in a Pontiac was just too good of a story to leave in Vinton.

08/07/2026

Da Plane! Da Plane! Notice to the public that while doing maneuvers over the marsh our Armed Services will also be spraying for mosquitoes.

08/06/2026

This story is about my family and many others just like them.

By the 1950s and 1960s, Southeast Texas had become a part of Cajun Country. Thousands of hardworking men and women left the bayous, prairies, and rice fields of South Louisiana in search of opportunity. The refineries of Port Arthur, the chemical plants of Orange, American Bridge, Levingston Shipbuilding, and dozens of other industries offered steady wages and the promise of a better life.

They came from parishes like St. Mary, Vermilion, Acadia, Jefferson Davis, Cameron, and Calcasieu. Some arrived with little more than a suitcase and the name of a relative or friend who had made the journey before them. What they found was more than a job—they found a place to build a future.

They bought homes in West Orange, Bridge City, Groves, Nederland, Port Neches, Port Arthur, and Vinton. They married, raised children, filled the pews of churches, coached Little League, volunteered as firefighters, and became respected members of their communities. Through hurricanes, refinery layoffs, economic downturns, and the changing fortunes of the Gulf Coast, they stayed. Texas had become home.

Yet they never left their heritage behind.

Their kitchens still smelled of gumbo and jambalaya. Their freezers were filled with shrimp and fish from Calcasieu and Sabine Lake and the Gulf. French could still be heard around the dinner table, even if only in a few familiar phrases. On Saturday nights, they gathered at legendary dance halls like the Rodair Club in Port Arthur, the B.O. Sparkle near Bridge City, and dozens of other venues where musicians like Joe Bonsall and the Orange Playboys played the music that reminded them where they came from.

These weren’t just dances. They were family reunions, community gatherings, and celebrations of a culture that refused to disappear. The music, the food, the language, and the friendships crossed the Sabine River as naturally as the people themselves.

The Sabine River marked the boundary between Louisiana and Texas, but for these families it was never a cultural boundary. It was simply another river to cross on the way to work, to visit grandparents, to attend church, to go sh*****ng, or to spend a Saturday night on the dance floor.

They built a Gulf Coast Cajun community that stretched from the bayous of South Louisiana to the industrial cities of Southeast Texas. Their story reminds us that a heritage is not defined by a state line. It is carried in the hearts of the people who live it.

The Sabine River divided two states, but it never divided one people.

Visit Lake Charles

08/05/2026

The Hall of Famer Who Came Home,

260 victories.

356 complete games.

27 shutouts.

A career spent entirely with the Chicago White Sox.

A United States Marine during World War II.

Manager. Coach. Scout.

National Baseball Hall of Fame. Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame.

Those numbers tell the story of one of baseball’s greatest pitchers.

But they don’t tell the story Vinton remembers.

When the cheering stopped and the stadium lights faded, Ted Lyons came home.

The first Major League Baseball game Ted Lyons ever saw, he saw from the pitcher’s mound. After graduating from Baylor University in 1923, the young right-hander signed with the Chicago White Sox and went directly to the major leagues, never spending a single day in the minor leagues. Over the next 21 seasons, he built a career that earned him a place among baseball’s immortals.

Yet after more than four decades as a player, manager, coach, and scout, Ted chose the quiet streets of Vinton over the bright lights of professional baseball.

He returned home to live with his sister, in the family home that once stood on the corner of Lorree Street and Eddie Street, where Merchants & Farmers Bank stands today.

Here, he wasn’t “Hall of Famer Ted Lyons.”

He was simply Ted.

Neighbors stopped by to visit. Children knocked on his door with baseballs tucked under their arms, hoping for an autograph. He gladly visited with schoolchildren, civic organizations, and anyone who wanted to talk baseball. He attended church, belonged to American Legion Post 208, and quietly became part of everyday life in the town he loved.

Despite all he had accomplished, Ted never sought attention. When the Chicago White Sox wanted to honor him late in life, he was reluctant to be the center of attention. That humility may have been one of his greatest qualities.

Family remained important to him. Stories passed down through the Lyons family tell of the property he kept south of Vinton, where his nephew, Elton “Son” Lyons, spent many mornings hunting ducks. Those memories remind us that long after the Hall of Fame speeches and newspaper headlines, Ted’s life remained rooted in the same rice fields, marshes, and traditions that have shaped generations of Southwest Louisiana families.

Perhaps that’s why Ted Lyons still means so much to Vinton.

Not because he won 260 games.

Not because he threw 356 complete games.

Not because he never pitched a day in the minor leagues.

Not because he wore a White Sox uniform for 21 seasons.

Those accomplishments made him famous.

But it was coming home that made him one of us.

Today, thousands of people pass through the intersection of Loree Street and Eddie Street without realizing that one of baseball’s greatest pitchers once called that corner home. The house is gone, but the story remains.

As the Vinton Heritage Foundation works to preserve the stories that shaped our community, Ted Lyons reminds us that greatness isn’t measured only by trophies and statistics. Sometimes it is measured by the place a person chooses to call home.

And after all the victories, the accolades, and the Hall of Fame honors, Ted Lyons chose Vinton.

Sometimes the greatest chapter of a remarkable life isn’t written under stadium lights—it is written back home, on a quiet street in a small Louisiana town.

Thank you for taking time to read about our little town,

Aaron Moody
Vinton Heritage Foundation

08/02/2026

Before Exit 4: The Forgotten Community of Toomey

Every day, thousands of travelers pass through Exit 4 on Interstate 10 without realizing they are driving through one of Southwest Louisiana’s forgotten communities.

Long before Interstate 10, before U.S. Highway 90, and even before automobiles, this area was part of one of Louisiana’s greatest natural resources—forest of virgin longleaf pine. These towering pines supplied the lumber that built towns throughout Louisiana and Texas and attracted the railroad that would forever change this corner of the state.

As the Louisiana Western Railroad expanded westward toward Texas in the early 1880s, a community known as Sabine Station was established near the Sabine River. The railroad connected New Orleans with Houston, making this one of the most important transportation corridors in the Gulf South. The settlement included a post office, a general store, and a church, serving both railroad employees and the families who were beginning to settle the area.

In 1890, the post office was renamed Jacksonville in honor of its first postmaster, James H. Jackson.

As Southwest Louisiana’s lumber industry continued to grow, the railroad stop became known as Toomey. The community developed around the Toomey Lumber Company, whose sawmill, planer mill, lumber yards, and railroad depot became major employers in the area. What is now little more than an interstate exit was once alive with steam locomotives, saws, and stacks of freshly milled lumber awaiting shipment across the South.

One of the community’s greatest tragedies occurred in September 1905.

A newspaper reported that fire destroyed the Toomey Lumber Company’s mill, planer, and 50,000 feet of finished lumber. Workers initially extinguished the blaze around 9:00 p.m., but the fire rekindled before dawn and completely consumed the plant. The estimated loss was $10,000, and the mill carried no insurance.

Looking west from Toomey today, it’s easy to see why this location was important. Beyond the community lay the broad Sabine River bottoms and the crossing into Texas. Before reaching the railroad facilities in Orange, trains had to traverse miles of floodplain, bridges, and low-lying terrain. It raises an interesting historical question: Was Toomey simply a lumber town, or did it also serve as an important operating point for steam locomotives before entering the Sabine River crossing? We continue to research that question and hope additional railroad records will provide the answer.

By the early twentieth century, the great timber boom that created communities like Toomey had begun to fade. The railroad depot eventually closed, the post office was discontinued, and the once-bustling settlement slowly disappeared.

Today, only the name Toomey remains on an I-10 exit sign.

07/29/2026

1920’s Vinton Auto Repair Facility. Does anyone know the location?

07/27/2026

Whats better in the blazing hot Louisiana summer?

Remembering The Pumping Plant,

With another hot Southwest Louisiana summer upon us, it got me thinking about a place that so many people have told me about, but one I never got to experience myself… The Pumping Plant on Wright Road in Niblett’s Bluff.

Originally built by the Sabine Canal Company to pump water to area rice fields, The Pumping Plant quickly became much more than that. For generations of families from Vinton, Niblett’s Bluff, Starks, and the surrounding communities, it became the place to spend a hot summer day.

Every weekend, and just about every afternoon once school was out, people made their way to The Pumping Plant to cool off. Kids spent hours swimming while parents visited under the shade trees. There was even a little store where you could buy a cold drink, grab a snack, or rent an inner tube before heading into the water.

Talking with longtime local residents, it didn’t take long to realize just how special this place was.

Some locals remember one of the Pumping Plant’s most unique attractions—a horse that would actually pull people on water skis through the canal! It’s hard to imagine today, but for those who grew up there, it was just another part of a summer at The Pumping Plant.

Like so many places from years gone by, time eventually caught up with it. As more farmers began drilling their own irrigation wells, fewer depended on the canal system. Carl Harbert remembers that the Sabine Canal Company eventually shut down around 1980, and nature slowly reclaimed the area. Today, the canals are hidden beneath pine trees, and unless you know what once stood there, you would probably drive right past without ever realizing the memories that were made.

Looking at these old photographs, it’s hard not to smile. You can almost hear kids laughing, see people floating on old tractor tubes, and remember a time when all it took for a great summer day was some cool water, good friends, and the promise of staying until the sun went down.

The Vinton Heritage Foundation would like to thank everyone who shared their photographs and memories for this article. These stories help preserve a part of our community that might otherwise be forgotten.

Did you spend your summers at The Pumping Plant? We’d love to hear your memories. Who did you go with? What do you remember most? Share your stories and photographs in the comments so we can keep this piece of Vinton’s history alive for future generations.

As with all of our local history articles, this story was put together by researching old photographs and documents, searching online resources, and—most importantly—talking with the people who lived it. Our local residents are often the best historians we have.

If you have photographs, newspaper clippings, or memories of The Pumping Plant, I’d love to hear from you. Every story helps us preserve another piece of our community’s history. Please feel free to share in the comments or send me a message. You never know what piece of the puzzle you might have.

07/26/2026

Update: History of Edgerly POW Camp No. 29 – A Forgotten Chapter of World War II.

What began as a simple search for information has quickly become one of the most fascinating local history projects I’ve ever worked on.

Over the past week, dozens of people have shared newspaper articles, family memories, and photographs that are helping tell the story of German Prisoner of War Camp No. 29, located in the Edgerly community during World War II.

Each new source helps piece together another part of this forgotten chapter of our history.

A Camp Built to Help Local Farmers

During 1944–1945, the U.S. Army established Camp No. 29 near Edgerly as one of several agricultural prisoner-of-war camps across southwest Louisiana.

Approximately 350 German prisoners of war, most captured during the North African Campaign, were assigned to the camp under the supervision of 35 to 40 American soldiers from Camp Polk.

With so many local men serving overseas, farmers faced a severe labor shortage. Camp No. 29 supplied 15-man work crews to harvest rice throughout western Calcasieu Parish, helping sustain one of the region’s most important industries.

The prisoners earned 10 cents per day in canteen script for field work, which they could spend at the camp canteen.

Life Inside Camp No. 29

Newly discovered newspaper articles provide remarkable insight into daily life inside the camp.

The camp included:

* A fenced stockade
* Guard towers at the front and rear entrances
* A large wooden mess hall
* A medical tent
* Rows of tents housing both prisoners and guards
* A soccer field where prisoners held matches on Sunday afternoons

The articles describe many of the prisoners as educated men who had held skilled occupations or professional positions before the war. Local farmers remembered them as hardworking, dependable, and appreciative of the opportunity to work outside the camp.

Several articles also note that many prisoners were surprised by the abundance of food and modern conveniences they found in America. According to both newspaper accounts and local recollections, several expressed a desire to return to the United States after the war rather than return to a devastated Germany.

The Human Side of History

One of the most remarkable discoveries has been the memories shared by local families whose lives intersected with Camp No. 29.

The son of one former camp guard recalled his father saying that the guards rarely felt the need to carry their weapons because the prisoners understood there was little chance of escaping the United States. He also remembered his father saying that several prisoners hoped to someday return to America.

Another local family whose grandfather farmed rice near present-day Gum Island Road remembered regularly picking up work crews from the camp. Their grandfather described the prisoners as hardworking men and skilled mechanics.

The granddaughter of Henry Kinney, whose family later owned the rice dryer built on the former camp property, shared stories passed down from her mother. As a young girl, she remembered her family feeding the prisoners and recalled that they treated her with kindness. Throughout her life, she remembered them not as enemies, but as men caught in the circumstances of war.

These independent family recollections closely match the published newspaper accounts, providing a richer and more personal understanding of life at Camp No. 29.

Small Stories That Bring History to Life

The newly discovered articles also preserve details that rarely appear in history books.

Prisoners carved wood, painted, and sketched to pass the time.

Some caught small turtles while working in the rice fields, decorated their shells, and kept them as pets.

Local families baked gingerbread and cakes to take to the workers in the fields, while one Edgerly family even maintained correspondence with the family of a former prisoner in Germany for several years after the war.

These simple stories remind us that history is made not only of military campaigns and government records, but also of everyday human experiences.

Locating the Camp

Published accounts consistently identify Camp No. 29 as being located on the property where the Stine and Kinney rice dryers and storage warehouses were later constructed.

Local residents have further identified the area near Edgerly Cut-Off Road and U.S. Highway 90 as the probable location. Historic aerial photographs, land records, and additional documentation are now being researched to more precisely identify the camp’s footprint.

Help Us Preserve This History

This project has grown because members of our community have been willing to open old photo albums, newspaper files, and family scrapbooks.

If your family has photographs, letters, military records, newspaper clippings, or memories related to Camp No. 29 or wartime Edgerly, we would be honored to preserve and document them.

Every story matters.

Every photograph matters.

Every memory helps complete the picture.

This is only the beginning of the Vinton Heritage Foundation’s effort to document the history of Edgerly and the communities that helped build western Calcasieu Parish.

Thank you to everyone who has contributed information so far. Your willingness to share family memories is ensuring that this remarkable chapter of our history will not be forgotten.

— Aaron Moody
President
Vinton Heritage Founda

07/21/2026

Thanks for being a top engager and making it on to my weekly engagement list! 🎉

Jo Vincent, Theresa Moss, Beverly Bates, Garland E Walton, Lisa Fontenot, Linda Benoit Ritter, Jessie Tharp Moody, Susan Moody, Debby Jardell LaFleur, Judy Louviere Laughlin

07/19/2026

Heritage of Western Calcasieu Parish:

When Highway 90 Never Slept,

Today, old Highway 90 is little more than a dead-end road through the marsh. Most days you’ll find a few people parked along the shoulder with a fishing pole in the water. Looking at it now, you’d never believe what once stood here.

But before Interstate 10, there was Highway 90.

Highway 90 wasn’t just another road. It was the road. Everybody traveling between Texas and southwest Louisiana came that way. Before you ever got to Vinton, you came through East Orange, Louisiana.

And East Orange as it was known to Texans had a reputation.

If you ask some of the older folks from Orange, Beaumont, or Port Arthur, they’ll all tell you the same thing. When people wanted a night out, they crossed the Sabine River.

Louisiana was wide open.

Along Highway 90 were dance halls, supper clubs, gambling rooms, live music, and just about anything else a person could find after dark. On weekends, the parking lots were packed. Oilfield workers, shipyard workers, businessmen, and travelers all mixed together. It was a different time.

The Orange shipyards during World War II brought thousands of workers to Southeast Texas. When the workday ended, many of them headed east across the river. Highway 90 became one of the busiest entertainment corridors on the Gulf Coast.

Places like the Showboat, the Flamingo Club, Buster’s, the Rainbow Club, and many others became destinations people still talk about today. Some were known for great food and music. Others earned a reputation for being a little rough around the edges. But they all became part of the story.

Around here, folks have always said those places stayed open because the right people looked the other way. Whether you were from Texas or Louisiana, everybody knew what Highway 90 was about.

Then, in 1952, everything began to change.

Louisiana elected Governor Robert F. Kennon, who made it clear that the days of looking the other way were over. He appointed Colonel Francis Grevemberg to lead the Louisiana State Police, and together they launched a statewide crackdown on illegal gambling. Gambling halls were raided, slot machines were destroyed, and clubs that had operated for years suddenly found themselves under pressure.

Not every club disappeared overnight. Places like The Big Oaks and LouAnn’s were still around and became favorites of another generation. But the days of Highway 90 being “wide open” were coming to an end.

Then Interstate 10 bypassed the old highway altogether.

Traffic disappeared. Businesses closed. Buildings were torn down, bridges disappeared, and nature slowly reclaimed what had once been one of the busiest entertainment districts on the Gulf Coast.

Today, unless someone tells you the story, you’d never know what once stood there.

But if you sit down with the old-timers, they’ll smile, shake their heads, and start telling stories about the nights they spent on old Highway 90.

⸻

Do you remember the old Highway 90? Did you or your family have a favorite club, restaurant, or story from those days? We’d love to hear your memories and photographs. Every story helps preserve another piece of the heritage of Western Calcasieu Parish.

Thanks,
Aaron Moody

Vinton Heritage Foundation

08/11/2026

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