Baton Rouge, Mississippi River

As I glide down the river toward Baton Rouge, my penultimate city stop, the unmistakable tower of the Louisiana State Capitol comes into view. It is a fascinating building, more for what it represents than for any unique architectural features. I eventually disembark my motorboat and head toward this 34-storey Art Deco government building. Its stunning clean lines and symmetrical layout are characteristic of the Art Deco era. The design is the vision of Huey P. Long, a powerful and controversial governor, who rejected the traditional dome-shaped Capitol designs. He pushed for a bold, modern design, arguing that traditional designs were dated and that the original Capitol did not measure up to the forward-looking Louisiana he envisioned.

Baton Rouge, perched on higher ground along the Mississippi, wasn’t always Louisiana’s capital. In the state’s early years, the seat of government bounced between New Orleans, Donaldsonville, and Opelousas, often forced to move by floods, fires, and political squabbles. It wasn’t until 1849 that Baton Rouge finally stuck, its higher elevation offering a bit more security from flooding and a more practical place to run the state from.

Completed in 1932, the building’s form was influenced by the Nebraska State Capitol, one of the first to depart from the usual dome-shaped design, and by New York’s magnificent Art Deco skyscrapers, such as the Empire State and Chrysler buildings. Though Art Deco in style, classical symbolism shines throughout. A grand 49-step granite staircase leads to the main entrance, each step engraved with the name of a U.S. state in the order it joined the Union. Flanking the staircase are two large limestone sculptures: “Pioneers”, commemorating the early settlers, and “Patriots”, honouring those who defended the state. Standing nearby, Huey’s statue keeps a watchful eye over the Capitol, and beneath it rests his tomb, a sombre reminder of his assassination inside the building’s halls.

Inside, the Capitol is a vast step away from its symmetrical exteriors. Marble from around the world, including volcanic rock from Mount Vesuvius, and bronze are used extensively for the interiors. Intricate details are found in the grilles, chandeliers, and even the elevator doors, each decorated with bas-reliefs of past governors, culminating in Huey himself. The result is a visually stunning state capitol that remains the tallest in the United States. 

Down on the riverfront, I come across the USS Kidd, moored along the levee. This Fletcher-class destroyer is preserved in its original World War II configuration, the only one of its kind. Having visited the USS Mississippi at Pearl Harbor and felt the weight of its history, stepping onto the Kidd feels just as personal—especially knowing it was named for Rear Admiral Isaac C. Kidd Sr., who was killed aboard the USS Arizona, lying in the waters near the Mississippi. The connection between these ships, across time and place, makes the history along the river here feel profoundly meaningful.

As I step aboard and walk through its narrow passageways and looming guns, I can almost hear the echoes of the Pacific, imagining the ship cutting through stormy waters and facing enemy fire. This destroyer saw intense action during World War II, earning eight battle stars, from fierce engagements in the Solomon Islands to surviving a devastating kamikaze strike off Okinawa that claimed dozens of crewmen. Her service continued during the Korean War, adding four more battle stars before decommissioning in 1964.

The ship’s personality, though, is anything but sombre. The crew adopted the pirate Captain William Kidd as their mascot and were famously granted official Navy permission to fly the Jolly Roger. That rebellious streak earned them the nickname “Pirates of the Pacific”, a title they lived up to by playfully “ransoming” rescued pilots back to aircraft carriers in exchange for ice cream. The young men who called the ship home found ways to balance the perils of war with moments of humour and camaraderie, blending bravado and discipline as they navigated life at sea.

It’s rare to stand on a ship that accomplished so much in war and yet remains so complete, preserved for future generations to experience and remember.