Long's Shadow — Uncover the Capitol Conspiracy

The 1932 Louisiana State Capitol rises 450 feet with 34 stories facing the Mississippi, America's tallest state capitol building commissioned by Huey Long himself. Designed by Weiss, Dreyfoug & Seiferth, this Art Deco edifice with 22 marble columns became the theater of the Kingfish's assassination on September 8, 1935. From the 27th-floor observation deck, you overlook the river Long dreamed of controlling — and understand why his enemies gunned him down here, at the very heart of his architectural power.

Huey P. Long's bronze statue, sculpted by Ulric Ellerhusen and dedicated in 1947, welcomes you with raised arm before the capitol entrance at 900 N 3rd Street. This effigy of Louisiana's governor (1928-1932) then senator (1932-1935) still guards the secrets of the man who promised to make every citizen a king. Observe this bronze suit: it's exactly what he wore during his final fiery speeches, twelve years before posterity rendered him this metal tribute.

The 1850 Old State Capitol, James H. Dakin's Gothic work, preserves in its rotunda a bullet hole from the 1862 battle — a Civil War scar you can still touch. This first Louisiana capitol, 100 feet high, offers from its 100-step spiral staircase a view over the empire Long was building. Transformed into a museum in 1994, it houses archives from when Louisiana swayed between Confederacy and Reconstruction, preparing the Kingfish's rise.

Capitol Lake spreads its 14 acres between both capitols, an artificial lake dug in 1931-1932 on Huey Long's orders to beautify his architectural project. The 1950 War Memorial, with its eternal flame, reflects in these waters that witnessed funeral processions and political demonstrations. Here, Long organized his populist rallies facing the two symbols of Louisiana power — the old and new capitols he dominated with his stature.

Your journey in Long's shadow concludes between the 1961 Louisiana Governor's Mansion at 1001 Capitol Lake Drive and the 1818 Pentagon Barracks, witnesses to two centuries of Louisiana power. These pentagonal barracks, which housed West Point cadets in 1825-1826, then General Butler during the Civil War, now frame North Boulevard Town Square and Arsenal Park — public spaces where echoes of the Kingfish's promises still resonate. You leave with the certainty that Baton Rouge remains marked by one man's excessive ambition to redistribute all of America's wealth.