Departures / Columns Hotel NOLA
THERE IS A level of expectation that comes with any landmark, and in New Orleans, where everyone has an opinion and feels just fine sharing it with you, that expectation hits ever higher. It’s why, when hotelier Jayson Seidman made the decision to buy and renovate the Columns Hotel, it was hard to ignore how easily everything could go wrong.
And it’s exactly why the success of its rebirth was met with such celebration.
The Columns, an 1883 property so storied it’s listed on the National Register of Historic Places not once but twice, sits in the heart of New Orleans’ Uptown neighborhood. Outside its doors is St. Charles Avenue, a wide oak-tree-lined ribbon that meanders through the city along an outline set by the Mississippi River, just blocks away. During Carnival, parades travel this stretch of roadway so regularly it’s not uncommon to find beads tangled in the tree branches here year-round. The roots of those trees seem to puddle into the boundaries of the centuries-old cracked and broken sidewalks below. Streetcars regularly rumble past on a route that stretches from the Mississippi’s river bend down to the edge of the French Quarter.
It is an unexpected choice to stay Uptown in New Orleans, a place where so many travelers instead immediately head to the Quarter to be as close as possible to the action this city is known for. It is a mistake, however, to think of Bourbon Street as the reason to visit New Orleans as much as it is a mistake to think of the Red Light District as the source of Amsterdam’s appeal.
And under Seidman’s care, the Columns is reason enough to stretch beyond what you think you know about New Orleans.
After spending time here to film “True Detective,” Matthew McConaughey once called New Orleans “the home of the front porch.” That’s perhaps truest at the Columns. The wide space between its front doors and St. Charles Avenue has been known locally for decades as a gathering place for pre- and post-dinner drinks, a place to while away the hours running into friends and meeting new ones. Pick anyone at random in the crowd at the bar, and they’re more likely to be a local than a guest of one of the 20 rooms on the second and third floors.
When Seidman bought the Columns, he inherited more than expectation; he also found himself deep in decades’ worth of cleaning, updating, and rearranging. Over the years, while the historic property hadn’t necessarily lost its shine, it had gotten disguised by heavy draperies, furniture ill-suited to the space, and, frankly, a need for a really good scrub.
“This was kind of one of the fanciest dive bars in America,” says Seidman, who would visit as a college student when he attended Tulane University, just blocks away. “We would drink cheap wine out of plastic cups, and … we felt fancy, because we were at the Columns.”