The year was 1935. The old Ford truck chugged along Airline Highway just west of New Orleans. Suddenly the driver braked and pulled onto the gravel shoulder between the aged cement four-lane and the blackwater swamp.
“Stay here, Son,” the man said calmly as he creaked open the driver's door. Cars whooshed close by as they sped past forcing the August heat in through the open windows. The boy watche…